dannyboy

Family duties

The shaft stands out from his withered
thigh, a musical instrument
awaiting the soft sigh of fingers.

‘It hurts to think about the past’ he whispers
while his red-tinged fingers pluck
at the blade’s point that pokes, shyly as a bud,
out from underneath his thigh
having chewed through muscle and nudged
bone. His cow-sad eyes plead.

‘I remember firm calves
and eyes that could read the signs,’
he says. Tears cut through his flesh
to spill upon the floor a million visitor’s footsteps
have worn to dull boards.

I withdrew the spear, his body
shivered; a lover farewells
the assent. ‘it will reappear again tomorrow
and for as long
as you are prepared to withdraw it.’
His mouth stumbled over each word
as if he were drunk with the absence, the pit.

My eyes followed his down to the hole,
saw the flesh split. ‘It’s the yang of me’ he said
‘that undoes the memory of blood I have spilt
upon the fields of valour - or worse,
in bedrooms trying to restore the finite amount
of courage left in my heart.

His hands gripped my shoulders, fingers
pushed deep as if to touch
the heart of me. ‘It must be said,
I am not without fault.’ He said, his white hair
swishing as he shook his head.


That night I slept in a cell,
small and dark – cold as a lover’s back
in a bed somehow stretched
to engulf a world.

In the morning the songs of birds
hung the sun out to dry,
shafts of light,
gentler than the spear,
fell upon my bed and face.
I rose knowing
I would need to grip that shaft again

and onwards until
my father felt redeemed
despite his guilt.

peterphreak

Your title gave me a rise, thanks. Here's how i read your poem, was i off base?

-


Family duties


8r8r8
The shaft stands out from his withered
thigh, a musical instrument
awaiting the soft sigh of fingers.


Love the chirality of shaft/withered, thigh/fingers. "thigh, a musical instrument" inseminating your introduction.


11r7r11r7r8r6
‘It hurts to think about the past’ he whispers
while his red-tinged fingers pluck
at the blade’s point that pokes, shyly as a bud,
out from underneath his thigh
having chewed through muscle and nudged
bone. His cow-sad eyes plead.


"blade's point" = pick or prick like a masturbatory bud. Like the meter and flow between the "calves".


6r7r7r14r5
‘I remember firm calves
and eyes that could read the signs,’
he says. Tears cut through his flesh
to spill upon the floor a million visitor’s footsteps
have worn to dull boards.


I'm beginning to sense your overlayed images of music, sex, redemption. cow/calves/worn. Like how you fuse these enjambments by merging last lines with new lines "signs, he says. Tears". Line four a bit long? (sorry)


8r7r8r4r8r8r11
I withdrew the spear, his body
shivered; a lover farewells
the assent. ‘it will reappear again tomorrow
and for as long
as you are prepared to withdraw it.’
His mouth stumbled over each word
as if he were drunk with the absence, the pit.


I understand your woody words connecting you libidinous morning/mourning? spear/blade's point/shaft


9r11r12r9r12r7
My eyes followed his down to the hole,
saw the flesh split. ‘It’s the yang of me’ he said
‘that undoes the memory of blood I have spilt
upon the fields of valour - or worse,
in bedrooms trying to restore the finite amount
of courage left in my heart.


down/pit/counterpane, spilt/split (nice cathect) valor/mortal marital bedroom, valour/courage (nice) - heart/blood (rich)
Something i found written by gener202 on the web:
"The East sees things not so much as independent and outside of self, but bearing within from the inner world and not separate but a part of the overall whole. Therefore, yang is yang only in its relationship to something else, and so is yin. Therefore it is not perceptually correct to say, this is yang and that is yin. They are only correspondingly and relationshipfully (ok, he should check his dictionary) so. An object we would consider independent therefore is only yang in reference to an object we would in its independence call yin. It is not inherently yin or yang. That is dualistic perception and we must get beyond that. In reality yin and yang are only concepts created by the mind to categorize a relationship with something else. "


8r6r8r11r7r
His hands gripped my shoulders, fingers
pushed deep as if to touch
the heart of me. ‘It must be said,
I am not without fault.’ He said, his white hair
swishing as he shook his head.


Disturbing. heart/hurt/heat fault/crack(nice imagery). Hamlet: "I am thy father's spirit"



7r9r6r5
That night I slept in a cell,
small and dark – cold as a lover’s back
in a bed somehow stretched
to engulf a world.


Beautifully written, i see the light. No comments but these words betray me. "cold as a lover's back" - lovely yet forlorn


8r6r3r5r7r4r9r
In the morning the songs of birds
hung the sun out to dry,
shafts of light,
gentler than the spear,
fell upon my bed and face.
I rose knowing
I would need to grip that shaft again


sun/light/spear/shaft, mysterious. Your shaft/pit/hole tempts me for a definition (need not answer objectively, just rhetorical musing)


5r6r4
and onwards until
my father felt redeemed
despite his guilt.


Wow. Yeah, a morning's woody is a bitch. But, then aye, there's the rub. Thanks. I was transported by you dissemination.

dannyboy

ta P.P.

Industrial

Your poems are vicious.

This is really good.

__________________
my reach is global
my cause is noble.

PrisonerOfPrey

damn. I really liked stanza 8, it really showed the emotion. Especially, " shafts of light,
gentler than the spear"
Really good dannyboy, this was disturbing yet beautiful. Reminds me of some classic books i've read.
This made me stumble in its imagery, " having chewed through muscle and nudged
bone. His cow-sad eyes plead." Chewed? bone? I am confused as to this line.

I really like how it starts out and one might think it was love. That it might be two very close companions. Then, as you read on it turns into more of a slave ritual and the true morbid-ness of line 4 hits you.

Really good job dannyboy, absolutely wonderful.

__________________
Now I lay me down to sleep/
With every passing thought I weep/
Lead me into nights dark bliss/
And let me wake in innocence. -Me

dannyboy

ta all.