Night Poem From Khandro (Sat.)

[Khandro]

Now That I Hear Trains
whistling out of Paddington on their way to Wales,
I like to think of him, as young as he was then,
running behind me along the sand,
holding my saddle steady
and launching me off on my own.

Now that I look unlike the boy on the brand new bike
who wobbled away down the beach,
I hear him telling me: 'Keep pedalling, keep pedalling'
When I look over my shoulder
he was nowhere to be seen.


Hugo Williams

[Rosie29]

I liked that. Very evocative.

[Ken4155]

Wonder if this poem was the inspiration behind Peter Gabriel's 'Father Son'?

[Khandro]

Could be Ken, but it could also be this smashing poem by Seamus (the famous).

Follower
BY SEAMUS HEANEY
My father worked with a horse-plough,
His shoulders globed like a full sail strung
Between the shafts and the furrow.
The horses strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing
And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.
The sod rolled over without breaking.
At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round
And back into the land. His eye
Narrowed and angled at the ground,
Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hobnailed wake,
Fell sometimes on the polished sod;
Sometimes he rode me on his back
Dipping and rising to his plod.

I wanted to grow up and plough,
To close one eye, stiffen my arm.
All I ever did was follow
In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,
Yapping always. But today
It is my father who keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away