Yeatsian Interlock – “To My Father”
To my Father (Ill for Some Time Before Death)
I miss you more than I can say–
you, who sat in a chair all day
so far away– What did we say
those days? Just know I called each day
and you would listen–I say, hear.
I miss you in the buzz of silence,
where listening is silenced; I can’t hear
your ear, your soft soft ear, in this silence.
****************************************
A reading of the poem, which may be interesting due to the breaks. – (Note that it does not have the full title.)
This is a poem posted for Kerry O’Connor’s “mini” challenge on With Real Toads to write a poem in the form of Yeats’ “He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven” – (check it out on With Real Toads.) The Yeats’ poem (a wonder) uses interlocking repeated words and rhymes.
I found this very challenging. My poem uses a bit more rhyme and repetition (just to make sure I got it all), which probably makes it way too sing-songy. But I enjoyed the challenge nonetheless. Thanks, Kerry!
I am also linking this post to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night. Pearl (my dog) and I are currently working on Nanowrimo so couldn’t get a new poem up today.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: "To My Father", Father child poem, grief poem, Imitating Yeats, manicddaily, missing lost father, Sounds of silence in loss poem, spoken word grief poem, Yeatsian Interlock (hopeless)
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November 18, 2012 at 9:22 am
So tender and sweet, Karin…your poem pulled at my heart…and brought a lump to my throat.
Gayle ~
November 18, 2012 at 9:29 am
Thanks, Gayle. k.
November 18, 2012 at 9:56 am
Ineffable is the word that comes to mind.
November 18, 2012 at 10:01 am
Thanks so much, Dave. k.
November 18, 2012 at 10:59 am
Reblogged this on shafiqah1 and commented:
Beautiful and thank you, may both of our fathers feel better ❤
November 18, 2012 at 11:00 am
Oh, this is just heart-breaking! And I am all over in goosebumps! Those last three lines ripped through the deepest part of me.
November 18, 2012 at 11:02 am
Oh, Kerry, thanks so much. I really hadn’t intended to write more poetry last night, as I actually am doing my job work this weekend (a great incentive to write, I guess) – and then I saw your post and wanted to support your great endeavor of coming up with all these challenges. You chose such a marvelous poem as the model/form. I really admire your energy with this. Thanks much. k.
November 18, 2012 at 11:20 am
nice….so full of emotion this one…and made me think of T losing her mom a few years ago…they would talk on the phone often being as we lived a ways away….you work the form really well to accentuate not just to fit…
November 18, 2012 at 11:21 am
Thanks. Hope your mom has recovered by the way! k.
November 18, 2012 at 11:55 am
I really enjoyed your reading here, karin–it seems to emphasize the softness of a dwindling time, wrapped in love and concern to cushion it as it slowly melts away. There is a powerlessness that is painful, of course, but here more of a surrender that cherishes without letting go of all that can be kept. A beautiful piece.
November 18, 2012 at 11:58 am
Of course, it’s meant to be after death, but I wanted somehow to give a meaning/explanation to the chair all day. And it may be fine to be in an illness too. I’d not thought of it that way, but may be fine. Thanks. k.
November 18, 2012 at 1:11 pm
Very moving and I like the extra repetition. In a way it says something about how we often used to say the same things over again to the elderly relative in the chair – neither minding, just enjoying the conversation. A great response to the challenge.
November 18, 2012 at 1:12 pm
Thanks, yes, I thought of that too. It’s true. Thanks very much. k.
November 18, 2012 at 1:20 pm
the ear- physically and metaphorically- wonderful. Silence is as profound as the soft of his ear; the softening of his hearing finds wrought through the buzzing. this is really brilliant.
November 18, 2012 at 1:24 pm
Thanks, Jane. I almost used “soft-lobed” ear but wanted to emphasize sound aspect. k.
November 18, 2012 at 1:36 pm
I felt the soft-lobe with your “soft soft” The sounds are just terrific, the rhyme assists the music. His ear is as real (more real than) the chair he sat in.
November 18, 2012 at 3:01 pm
Thanks. I liked the ambiguity of it, and also there’s so much repetition, it seemed to make sense to have the repeated words flat out. Thanks again. k.
November 18, 2012 at 1:30 pm
Nice job with this! I found this really moving.
November 18, 2012 at 3:56 pm
OH my goodness!!! You’ve worked magic of this form!!! So heart wrenching and the words you chose to repeat didn’t even seem as though they were…great work, Karin!!
November 18, 2012 at 4:37 pm
Thanks so much, Hannah. k.
November 18, 2012 at 5:31 pm
So much you say here.. yes there is so much in silence… the monorhyme you almost establish in the first half is broken as if silence. I see the form but the end-rhyme and the breaking of it amplify the silence – if that isn’t oxymoronic
November 18, 2012 at 5:38 pm
Thanks, Luke.
November 18, 2012 at 5:39 pm
Oh, certainly not sing songy. This is a dear, very dear epitaph any father would treasure. You are so lucky to be able to “miss” such a kind man’s listening ear. Some never, ever have had it. You say he isn’t gone yet… I hope you have time to just enjoy holding his hand.
November 18, 2012 at 5:58 pm
No, no, he is gone. He died last January and had a very beautiful death. Thanks. I know how very lucky I am. k.
November 18, 2012 at 7:26 pm
Thanks, Margaret, You know I am changing the title to make that point more clearly. k.
November 18, 2012 at 7:20 pm
love that notion, missing in the silence where listening is silenced. great, great line.
November 18, 2012 at 7:26 pm
Thanks, Marian. k.
November 18, 2012 at 11:46 pm
Not only have you mastered the form wonderfully, and attained an elegaic tone while doing so, the poignancy of the feelings expressed really reach the reader. The repeated words emphasize wonderfully the emotions expressed. Fantastic write, kiddo!
November 19, 2012 at 2:08 am
I feel the narrator sharing the phone line ear to ear with the old father. I am trying to remember the name of the Japanese author who wrote about the wisdom residing in the wrinkles of an old man’s ear, but I cannot. What a loss of softness.
November 19, 2012 at 4:00 am
Very emotional and poignant…much enjoyed your reading… thanks
November 19, 2012 at 5:42 pm
What a lovely voice for reading poetry. So enjoyed your rendering.
November 19, 2012 at 5:48 pm
Ha. Thanks so much. k.
November 20, 2012 at 3:01 am
Challenge it may have been, but you have risen to it superbly.
November 20, 2012 at 9:17 am
What a lovely response to the prompt. I can understand so well, because my father wasn’t well for some years before he died, but we still loved him, and he knew it.
Thanks for sharing this with us.
K
November 20, 2012 at 3:08 pm
This is so very sad that it choked me up as I read it. It is so true of the way it is when one spends time with someone near the time of their death. But it is important time…..for both…and a time you will never forget, and someday you will meet again and both know what this time meant.
November 20, 2012 at 3:09 pm
Thanks, Mary. Hope so. k.
November 20, 2012 at 3:17 pm
K this is so poignant and vivid. So sad. Loved the buzz of silence.
November 20, 2012 at 3:42 pm
this feels just warm with love for your dad…and we don’t have many people nowadays that really listen…good listening is an art..
November 20, 2012 at 3:43 pm
the essence of simplicity of this poem goes straight to the heart, K.
I ‘hear’ you, because…well, you know.
Lady Nyo
November 20, 2012 at 4:16 pm
Hi Jane! so sorry I haven’t done your review yet. I’ve been working (at my job) a great deal. k.
November 20, 2012 at 8:35 pm
No problem, K.
November 20, 2012 at 3:57 pm
“I miss you in the buzz of silence,
where listening is silenced; I can’t hear
your ear, your soft soft ear, in this silence.”
these lines are so well crafted.
November 20, 2012 at 4:32 pm
so hard… but I still think I can hear my mom and dad in the whisper of those pines
November 20, 2012 at 4:33 pm
That reached in and touched me. Leaves no room for doubt that you love and miss him very much. What a lovely tribute.
November 20, 2012 at 4:34 pm
Sweet…made me think of my parents …I miss them so much. Sorry 😦 I understand this too well.
November 20, 2012 at 5:27 pm
I love this: “I can’t hear
your ear, your soft soft ear, in this silence.”
November 20, 2012 at 5:55 pm
Heart breaking and yet, it speaks so eloquently to the love you shared–
November 20, 2012 at 8:20 pm
I think you used the form most wonderfully… very heartfelt and touching.
November 20, 2012 at 8:21 pm
Thanks so much, Kelly. k.
November 20, 2012 at 11:17 pm
Affecting, honestly I envy your relationship, Beautifully done.
November 20, 2012 at 11:23 pm
Thanks, yes. I was tremendously lucky. k.
On Tue, Nov 20, 2012 at 11:17 PM, ManicDDaily
November 20, 2012 at 11:57 pm
The concise nature of this poem makes it all the more compelling and poignant. Beautifully done, Karin.
Pamela
November 21, 2012 at 12:25 am
…sad yet delivering… i can read it aloud playing a background in it..
November 21, 2012 at 6:47 am
Very sadly sweet, k. The emotion is thick in this one.
November 21, 2012 at 2:05 pm
loving, with a lullaby lilt in the rhyme…just beautiful.
November 21, 2012 at 10:46 pm
hearing you read
made it even more personal and
solidified its shape on a real level of intimacy
and understanding 🙂