Past Present – A Poem

You tear open your present,
With a total delight
That tears open my present


From the paper comes joy
Uncontained
From the rip only yesterday
Again


When will I shake the shudder
That quakes me utterly
When happiness threatens


I don’t want to mourn
The child of I
That died
Each time
This child of mine
Thrives


The season still
Is one of wanting so much
For my heart to thaw enough
That it can feel all I pretend
To my children


Do I do enough
Each time
I play
The Pantomime


Or perpetuate the curse
I wanted to remain
Mine

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The world is insane and I'm in writing therapy!

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Posted in Poetry
32 comments on “Past Present – A Poem
  1. Ah, Mike. So sad, and yet so sweet, too.

  2. It will take a second and yet third read to ponder this. But I suppose if a poem merits a second or third read the poet did well with the pen.

  3. I can hear that tearing, I understand that sound, though I can not know how it must feel. {(a hug from one father to another)}

  4. Teeny Bikini says:

    Sigh. Hugs. You really know how to get to the heart of the matter…

  5. Just a gentle smile…no more words required..

    • ruleofstupid says:

      Thank you Ginger. How was xmas for you? Hope the kids had a great time πŸ™‚

      • warmginger says:

        Christmas in a Muslim country is a pretty relaxed affair, so suits us perfectly. The boys are happy – they’ve spent the morning ‘junk modelling’ with the Christmas packaging and are now out building a blanket fortress with the other kids in the compound. I’m happy to see they have a healthy disrepect for the ‘stuff’ they were given!

      • ruleofstupid says:

        Haha! Yeah – that’s just how it should be! πŸ˜‰
        Does that mean a dry new year for you? Or have you special rules in the compound?

      • warmginger says:

        It will be a dry one for me but not because of where we live. I stage a pathetic one-woman rebellion against the Scottish decree that you have to get rat-arsed at hogmanay!

      • ruleofstupid says:

        The phrase Pyrrhic Victory comes to mind πŸ˜‰

      • warmginger says:

        Okay, I’m having to hit Google again just so I can formulate a witty response…

      • warmginger says:

        Ooh, I feel like Rita and you’re…well whatever Michael Caine’s character was called!
        Now I feel like I may double-bluff myself into having a drink on Hogmanay and actually enjoying it, as us Scots aren’t actually supposed to win anything. πŸ™‚

  6. warmginger says:

    Oh dear, I’ve just realised the actual TITLE of my post this afternoon is along the lines of Past Present. It must have seeped into my subconsciousness and there I thought I was being mildly clever with a deliberately nonsensical title (okay, I couldn’t think of anything else). Massive apologies or erm, thanks!

  7. Lovely. I really do get this. The fragility of happiness when you understand its opposite so well. Go in peace panda and have some virtual hugs x

  8. unfetteredbs says:

    I softly say this was quite wonderful..sad, true and from the heart. Hard to be fully happy when there is such painful sadness

You can tell me anything (yes, even that!)

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