Saturday, October 15, 2005

Memory Of My Father


Every old man I see

Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father."

- Patrick Kavanagh

3 Comments:

Anonymous zab said...

three cheers for Patrick Kavanagh!

2:00 PM  
Blogger Ridzy said...

Lovely poem :)

Nice blog. I don't like karela, though. :shudder:

:)

Ridzy

8:09 AM  
Blogger karrvakarela said...

Zab: Hip hip hurray!

Ridzy: Neither do I. *shudder back*

2:57 PM  

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