INTRODUCING A GRANDSON TO HIS GRANDFATHER
by Bryan Borland
You will know him through your own
sense of humor, the practical jokes
of heredity that make your eyes water
to the detriment of friends.
You will know him through acts
of kindness, the anchor of heart
that compels you to share your treasure
with less fortunate pirates.
You will know him, little Noah,
when a cat stakes her purring claim
against your leg, when you walk
the first of many dogs on winter nights.
You will know him in your name,
in your knees, in your near
tone-deaf ears that hear melodies
beautiful in the absence of pitch.
© Bryan Borland
To mark the first Father’s Day since my dad passed, here is a poem from the new collection, the new book that’s currently under construction. Like many of my poems, it was conceived through a hypothetical question: If I had a son, how would I explain my father to him?
I am crying my eyes out. I have never read anything so beautiful.
My God, you have a gift.
xxox Pearl
xoxo back at you, Pearl.
“(…) the practical jokes of heredity”, what a lovely, lovely turn of phrase.
He’d be so proud.
Thank you QL!
Such a lovely poem Bryan…it is so true that many of the things that are a part of us are gifts from those who came before us….another excellent poem.
Gifts and curses… I have another poem in the collection about the physical ailments of heredity. Of course I hold even those dear now.
Maybe I am starting to sound like someone else, but this, I think, is possibly one of my favorites! I love the looking backward/forward, the continuity of it. The last four lines are my favorite, though.
We’ve got a lovefest, you and me.
I agree on all counts- a good piece. You always bring so much though to my own questions, and make me see I have to push pen to paper myself…I like playing follow the leader with you…
Although holidays have been an issue with me, something I am not sure I could explain or create on paper…
Follow the leader? Nah -more like leap frog. Or twister?
Inside the pile of dirt that is grief and loss, a flower always blooms Bryan, doesn’t it? You’ve grown a lovely blood red rose without thorns.
Beautiful comment, Val. Thank you.
This is absolutely beautiful Bryan! And well crafted. I love seeing you soar
Thank you, JC!
your introduction made it all deeper and stronger. i had to read it second time, after reading your comment. the thought of it… hard to imagine, harder to put into words… once again you did wonderful job..
Thanks D!
spot on perfectly written, not to mention very touching
Thanks Ray!
A lovely poem, Bryan. It made me think.
Now I’m pulling a Val and making you think? Your wife is the master of that, Paul. I take it as a compliment.
I just sent you an email and then stopped over to see what you were up to…. and got bowled over by this beautiful piece.
The visual I have is a granddad and his grandson running amok in the back yard, their eye patches flapping, clashing swords with imaginary scalliwags while singing Yo ho ho…. off pitch of course.
He lives on in you. And he lives on in your work.
Such a lovely piece Bryan.
I appreciate the email, Karen, and your kind words as always.
I missed this one somehow – what a wonderful poem for your father! Absolutely beautiful.
You will know him, little Noah,
when a cat stakes her purring claim
against your leg, when you walk
the first of many dogs on winter nights.
This is beautiful in such a sensitive and delicate way. I can imagine it handwritten, as a letter.