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(1904 - 1967 / County Monaghan)

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Memory of my Father

Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.

That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.

And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.

Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father."

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: october, london, weather, father, son, remember, death, memory, time, love

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Comments about this poem (On An Apple-Ripe September Morning by Patrick Kavanagh )

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  • Robin illanes (6/4/2007 8:40:00 AM)

    hey S`upp

    this is a very interestin`poem, watch out with the title, the word memory not always mean good things that happened in the past : O
    after readin` it I realized there was sth unclear about the relatioship between Kavanagh and his father.

    Also try to read IN memory of my mother, where its proved what i just said, because IN MEMORY means a kind of tribute, good feelings towards his mother

    cya.

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