Replying to a comment on:

Making a Man (Free verse) by Christof

The snow is still soft, sifted in drifts Before the crust forms. Warm feet, rapidly cooling In clammy boots, Flute though the easy powder Pocking the skinless Whiteness of unbodied cold. Now a hand And a face solidify in the sun, Running and stooping, Scooping pawfuls to build the flat waste Into a body Ready to become a man. A breathing man Stands back, stamping and shivering, Wondering if With luck his daughter Will get bored, Worn out with snow that refuses to play, Before she calls him, Impatient, importuning, impolite, To make a head. Dread of his own irritation, Dislike of the temper Remembered from another father Thirty years ago Grown hot in his own head, Scorches red the snow. No father, really: Merely a progenitor.

vulcan 7-Jul-09/7:59 AM
hello dear Chris..hope you're fine..great to see you here again..and read one more of your wonderful poems..you're doing great as before..all the best.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001