On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

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Poem Commentary

"It is better to be hated for who you are, than loved for who you are not." --Kurt Cobain

On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me


My glories mix with failures,
That burn like dust--
Dust that smites my eyes, dust blown by the desert wind.
My main mark has not been made before I end,
In this wild whirling world of love and lust.
Ghost-written works, unlikely to be uncovered as my own;
But still, under my own name, there is enough of my flame
To catch fire in the world, and show my light from a growing great blaze.
After I end, then.  Little for me, before I die.  I live poor, and lonely for a lady, until then.
Unless I find new feminine love, who can love me as I now am--to give me love again--
I must feel unloved, unpleasured, lonely, lonesome--a man without a woman--so alone.
-----------------------
My healthful days are gone--as soon I must.
I yearned to have a son--to be his friend--
To share my values in his values' blend.
My once wife defeated that dream, with my unborn child's end.
I still grieve.  I hope for love, somehow, at life's crumbling crust.
But time has taught me only tombs to trust.
-----------------------
I learned my baby was a son, my son that iron fate took to destroy.
So I lost my only child before he could be born to my loving gaze.
And yet--perhaps I had a son, a born and living son, in the past;
When my nephew Anthony and I shared special days,
My sister's son, whom, in his earliest years of life, I helped to raise.
From when he was a baby, till he became a precious little boy.
-----------------------
My heart's deep dreams are lost; 
I am now treated as if my life were as worthless as a cheap broken toy.
Yet I'm kept alive at a price I cannot long keep paying, a crippling cost.
But I am happy to know I did have a son, a living son, in my life's past.
For Anthony, who grew up, oh, so fast--
To become a good young man, who became a new glad father--
Chose--not his father's name--but my name, rather--
Saying I was more a father to him than anyone else; and, to make that last,
He honored me with memory and praise,
To give his son my name, to my great joy.

=============================================


Written by Michael LP
aka MLP, aka Mr. Poet, aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC
(I'm just me)
Copyright (C) 2010 by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved.

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lunamarie commented on On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

10-21-2010

.......... this poem ... is one of the best poems I have ever read ... I have no words ..............................

arronpalmer commented on On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

10-20-2010

So so frank and touching is your admission to your disdain at life, or the tribulations of it (possibly a scandalous understatement to someone in your circumstance, but I trust you know where I'm coming from), robbing you of a chance to become what you are no doubt to your nephew, who clearly idolises you, to a son of your own. But a Father is more than flesh and blood. It is the love, the care, the sacrifices made in the interest of a child. Things you no doubt did to/for your nephew. A Father isn't ever forgotten, especially if another generation bears his name. I think you are more a father than most could claim to be.

abuelita1 commented on On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

10-19-2010

Your nephew and his son are both blessed by having you in their lives. What an honor to be named after you. ;)

arronpalmer commented on On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

10-19-2010

I love this, but I have left a more detailed comment in reply to your comment you left on my profile. I didn't want to simply copy and paste. A ten from me.

abuelita1 commented on On My Nephew Naming His First-Born Son After Me

10-16-2010

Your words are as cherished as you are to any. Oh, lucky is the woman to have you.

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

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