Listening As A Little Lad To My Old Lad Telling Stories Poem by Dónall Dempsey
Listening As A Little Lad To My Old Lad Telling Stories
Listening to
Dad in the dark
us boys
in stitches
telling us stories
about himself
when he was our age
& growing up
our eyes
seeing it all
come alive
the darkness lit up
with laughter
us boys
clutching our sides
pleading “Please...
No more…no more! ”
(yet never wanting it to stop)
Knowing every nuance
each perfect pause
each shiny word
“No more…now…no more
go to sleep ya little devils! ”
Silence then
& then he’d be the first to
break it.
His wheezy hee hee
infectious
(we wanting to wee wee)
laughing so much
it hurt
“Oh God...oh God! ”
Dear Dad
I still listen to
your stories
in the dark
my laughter
echoing
down the years.
(For Brian my co-listener in the dark)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 2:31:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
What joy...and yet what sadness, I see in this poem. The memory of what (and the who, too) was, and are no more...except for the you still here...and the echos. But what pure love that was..and still is...