Monthly Archives: February 2012

The Twinkle

The best photograph
of my grandfather
is his army picture.

It is of a man
I never knew.
A young man with
movie star good looks.
A beautiful young face
so full of life.
The camera loves him.
He beams and charms.
His eyes twinkle.
He wears his uniform
with so much pride.

The man I know now
is very different.
He is a sad man
worn down by age
and bad decisions.
He does not much resemble
the young charmer
in the photograph
about to become a soldier
and a father.

All the flash and fire
in that young man’s eyes
is long gone.
But I do recognize
The Twinkle.
It’s still there.
I know that twinkle well.

BLOODPUDDING

Look.
Is it pudding?
Or is it blood?
Pudding’s fun,
But this is crud!
This bloodpudding thing,
Is utter folly,
Like putting mudpie
On the desserts trolley,
Don’t mess about,
With words and food,
It’s disgusting,
And kind of rude,
Pudding’s a pleasure,
For which I’m weak,
But bloodpudding?
A monstrous freak!
Call things what they are,
Like mud that is pied,
Blood “pudding”
Is just blood fried!

Hero/Villain

Hmmm.
My grandfather distinguished himself,
On the field of honour
As a Canadian soldier
During Holland’s liberation.
On the fields of Holland,
My grandfather was a hero.
But the hero came home.
And then he was a hero,
In no more than name,
In fact he was a villain,
Bringing medals to shame,
For heroes and villains
Can be one and the same.
Yes the hero came home,
And revealed something other,
For six years of her childhood,
He raped my poor mother,
Until he was caught,
And finally imprisoned,
Leaving lives torn,
Family full of divisions.
An act can be heroic,
Yes I know that it can,
But to see a real hero,
First show me the whole man.

(I don’t usually write after prompts, but I couldn’t resist “Military, Soldiers, and Veterans” from Jingle poetry.)