Ingrate
Oh, why didn’t you have a switchblade
to danger my young eyes with,
or do a stint in deep cover so the stories
would be better, so dark, so blue?
Years riding the rails, casting spells,
breaking hearts of small town slatterns
all up and down the line, a ledger of sons
cursing your name every Father’s Day?
Be a one-hit wonder whose ear worm
gets licensed for a Tarantino film,
residuals that bury those lean years
of box cornbread and canned beans?
Just look at what I have to work with:
Lay-Z-Boy recliner with cat-clawed back,
sneakers greened from having mowed the lawn,
snoring, ice conspiring to water down your drink,
slobbery dreams in which you’re not you,
hardly the stuff of poetry: it’ll have to do.
23 thoughts on "Ingrate"
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I like how to poem starts romantic and adventurous but makes the turn to reality, where the true pathos lives. Very good, Bill. Despite the last line — hardly the stuff of poetry: it will have to do — this poem is successful.
Last line has been a struggle on this one. Maybe next draft?!
“Be a one-hit wonder whose ear worm
gets licensed for a Tarantino film,
residuals that bury those lean years
of box cornbread and canned beans?”
Impressive poem, and that incredible stanza earned its place. Another great write, Bill.
Thank you, H.A.
lots of good lines. Love “a ledger of sons
cursing your name every Father’s Day?”
And so it does, Bill. You can make a good poem from anything.
Yes, I agree!
Thanks friend.
Yes – the what ifs vs. the what ares. Masterful, as always and exactly “the stuff of poetry”!
Thanks, Sylvia.
It’s getting harder and harder as the days click by.
Meant for Kevin.
Still laughing…and awe-stricken line after line!
Love every line, especially “Years riding the rails, casting spells,/breaking hearts of small town slatterns/all up and down the line, a ledger of sons/cursing your name every Father’s Day?” and the 4th stanza.
Thanks for the comment, Pam.
I think we were both feeling the blues this morning, Bill, but a solid poem — again.
Thanks, pal. I could say when am I not, but won’t here. Maybe next poem.
isn’t it fun making a caricature of yourself in the last couple of stanzas
This is too funny. I’m going to show my dad. Tell him ditto.
Great humor. “Just look at what I have to work with”—what a fantastic line! What I take away is your luck of having this wonderful man as a dad. (That’s me.) You can borrow mine if you’d like some drama! 😂 💙 (And I have to add: fantastic title, too.)
“slobbery dreams in which you’re not you,\hardly the stuff of poetry: it’ll have to do.” came down like a sharp axe. Well done, Bill.
Another great poem, Bill! And ditto Kevins’s comments, you can write about anything.
Love following where your mind takes us!
The photographer’s eye serves well bro.