Hero
When I was a boy my dad said I’d be
A great man some day, a leader of men.
My strength was in words and making folk see
What simple to me, but hard for them.
He said “You’ll grow to be a gentleman,
A voice of tender hope and pure reason,
A prophet who will do all that he can
To heal the victims of social treason.”
So not strong or brave or speedy am I,
Nor some knight of old on his mighty steed,
Nor can I vanish, or mind-read, or fly.
But a hero is made through one good deed.
Heroics lie in the eyes of a friend,
And thus is a man made great in the end.
-
Standing On The Shoulders Giants
Born into muck that could choke the small babe;
Home to the down-trodden/broken yet brave.
Though I am lifted from a life so grave,
Because I was
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
Fragile youth, of every shadow scared;
Innocence and ignorance equal shared.
My monsters chased away by heart that cared,
For I was
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
Growing in rage and pushing bound'ries back;
A fire inside grew that turned love black.
Origin of the flame taking it's flack,
As I was
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
Now standing above the murk and mire;
Master of life, and darkness, and fire.
I'm now a Titan lifting my babes higher,
And still I'm
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
A time will come when I must stand alone;
Newly crowned King on my Sire's throne.
I know I'll walk tall even when alone.
From my time
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
I hope my son sees me as I once saw;
My shoulder: his seat, from which he may soar.
And I hope, as I have, he sees once more
That he's been
Standing on the shoulders of a Giant.
-
That's Not The Man I Knew
I have to stand here listening to people
Tell me all about this man,
As if he was some stranger
That I must try to understand.
But that’s not the man I knew…
They’d talk about this veteran
A hero in some unknown war
And how proud he was of his service
And the conflict that he saw.
But that’s not the man I knew…
They’d wax on about his grandkids
And how he doted on the lot,
Saying he was gentle and caring
And as a grandad was quite soft.
But that’s not the man I knew…
About all of his past jobs
And how hard he worked, they’d shout,
Sacrificing time with kids
So that we’d never go without.
But that’s not the man I knew…
I remember his stories of war
And how those who serve are fools,
Throwing away their lives
As some politician’s tools.
That’s the man I knew!
I remember him being a strict man
Hard and firm but fair,
But his raised voice was just his way
Of expressing how much he cared.
That’s the man I knew!
I remember my dad being home a lot
And how hard it was not to work,
But the time he spend on us kids
Made it seem more like a perk.
That’s the man I knew!
So don’t tell me about some Aden Vet
Or some old man worked to the bone.
I remember the man that raised me
But it seems that memory’s mine alone.
I remember my dad as a giant of a man,
A real inspiration to me,
And no matter how old or frail he gets
THAT is all I will EVER see.
-
My Father's Son
There’s just no use in crying;
I don’t recall Dad ever did.
He just “bloody got on with it”
And his feelings, hid.
It is true that he left us
This morning before Eight
But that doesn’t mean now’s time
To shirk off this grim weight.
I’ve gotta stay strong for the others;
My sisters will be a mess.
I don’t know about my brother
As he was already depressed.
And of course my Mam will be in bits;
It was her husband after all.
So I have to hold on to this stuff;
I can’t afford to drop the ball.
My partner tells me “men CAN cry”
And I would, if I wanted to.
But I just don’t have the time for it;
As there’s so much I have to do.
I have to be the proverbial rock
That weathers the dreaded storm.
Its MY turn now to be the foundation
That supports our family home.
I always remember Dad being strong
Even against the endless tide;
Head held high, our ship kept dry,
And the struggle he’d try to hide.
I’ve read the books, I’ve seen the blurbs:
“Its not healthy to bottle it up”
But surely pouring out what's in you
Just leaves behind an empty cup.
So yeah I could fall into despair
Just like some others have done
But that’s just not the way I was raised
For, I AM my father’s Son.
-
Little Deaths
Dad died this morning, but why am I so empty?
Is it from when Mum said “he fell last night and is in hospital”; so I feared the worst?
Is it from visiting him there and seeing him so frail; thinking he looks almost spent?
Is it from seeing him home and in his bed; not able to even stand?
Is it from being told he’s in hospital and suffering from pneumonia; knowing that’s how old people end?
Is it from a childhood of seeing him on the floor and coughing; a life of smoking taking its toll?
Is it from years of depression and his constant whispered threats; “I might as well top myself”?
I feel like I have done this journey so many times now...
Am I just well practiced at mourning Dad?
-
Dad's Not Dead
When I wake and my voice is gruff and deep:
I hear him
Dad’s not dead.
When I look at my chimpanzee like arms:
I see him
Dad’s not dead.
When I’m getting dress up and don Old Spice:
I smell him
Dad’s not dead.
When I cook Yorkshire pudding with garlic:
I taste him
Dad’s not dead.
When I smooth my unruly, bushy brows:
I feel him
Dad’s not dead.
When I rage at the bullshit of the world:
I feel like him
Dad’s not dead.
When I chastise my child in earnest love:
I sound like him
Dad’s not dead.
When I laugh before I have told the joke:
I laugh like him
Dad’s not dead.
When I see creases on my ageing face:
I look like him
Dad’s not dead.
When I think of the man I have become:
I AM like him.
DAD'S. NOT. DEAD.
