Not Long Left

Rookie (17.05.1981 / The Molten Core)

Dad, Dark Demons, And Memories - Poem by Not Long Left

skimming stones,
into a dirty english sea,
bieng my big strong dad,
you would always beat me,
by a skim or two,
you were the Atlas of my world,
and i adored you.

watching me proudly.
playing football on a cold winters day,
i was rubbish,
yet always would you say,
great game son,

holding me tight,
soothing the nightmares frights,
singing me songs your dad sung to you,
the way great dads always do.

holding me hand, high up on the mountain side,
your strong reassuring grip
your face smoothed with pride.

these are the memories i treasure,
i will keep them with me forever,
these are the times when the family was one,
and you was daddy and i was son,
so simple it was back then,
i do love you dad,
but dark demons,
have built high thorny walls,
and neither of us can hear our calls,
of forgivness


Comments about Dad, Dark Demons, And Memories by Not Long Left

  • (4/25/2006 12:05:00 PM)


    My fater is dying right now, in the Mojave Desert, of lung cancer. We had a very incomplete relatonship, but a year ago I made 'amends' to him. Thoygh he deserted his family in its darkest hour, I came to understand how trapped he felt, by my mother and by his feelings of shame. I also remembered that, while he was never affectionate with me, he was very tender with my older sister, who was ill her short life and died. I was able to use this image of his loving nature to leverage a deeper forgiveness.

    Also, I realized that this borken sense of 'father' held me back spiritually. IF God was a father, and fathers were dickheads, was God then a dickhead? I was advised to say a mantra every day for a month - just the word 'Father, ' while connecting weith the possiiblity of deepest and most faithful love - the very thing I missed in my own father.

    The mantra cracked through 40 years of bruised feelings of lovelessness and unlovability - to where I can talk to my 'useless' father on the phone, and comfort him in his sickness.

    It's not perfect, but what is? And meanwhile, my relationship to God leaped over a mountain range - the disaesed connotations I had for 'father.' This love ricpocheted back - to where I can forgive my poor old dad.
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  • (1/2/2006 4:46:00 PM)


    Speaking as someone who knows something about demons and barbed hedges, they are only insurmountable to those who have no desire to try. I am sure you will succeed and, as for your poem, it is sweet and sad and the lines work well together to create strong and solid images. Good workJoy (Report) Reply

  • (12/5/2005 8:44:00 AM)


    certainly this rings an emotional bell with me. One would think there is a way to surmount the barbed hedges the prevent adult access of the old father/child love. All things are possible, I believe, but this turned out to be a heroic task. I still work at it after my father has passed from this world. (Report) Reply

  • (12/5/2005 7:12:00 AM)


    This is brilliant Vincent, and something I wish my two son's would do. It is a form of grieving and does wonders to lighten the load. Believe me, I know. It brought a tear to my eye as skimming stones, was a fav of their dad's, all I can say to you is do not let those dark demon lock you out of what life is about, and that is loving and enjoying it.

    I am sure you are a strong man, if you are anything like your father sounds. I don't believe they ever leave your heart, so make sure it does not go cold. Someone will come and bring love into your life I am sure. 10 from admiring Tai
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/5/2005 7:09:00 AM)


    That's a strong emotional work Vincent. It flows well and the structure is spot on. The opening two lines are great and really conjure up images of a typical English seaside. Small typo in the third line. A cracking work. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 5, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, December 5, 2005


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