Matthew Harris Poet Elegy

Blessed Child

"Blessed Child"

No explanation why
trade marked self made
     unsheathed sword didst try
to wreak havoc, sans
     deep hurtful (severe) stabs,

     no solution to
     NON internal Quoi
yet, decades long inconsolable tears
inflicted toward self,
     and family I cannot dee nigh

     (of origin plus deux offspring
     begat), oh my
whereat I clamped "hands"
over figurative "ears" obliviously,
    and/or faintly aware

     at times withholding
     compassion, no lie
mercilessly depriving affection
     from this fluky, kooky,
     and quirky guy,

albeit the sole son
     emotionally estranged
     from his late mama, and
     octogenarian widower papa, who I
     rarely ever said "hi,"

when living under their roof
     (at 324 Level Road,
     long since demolished)
never inquired, nor
     rarely ever acknowledged

     appreciation (on a
     regular basis), deep pry
ving expressing care and concerned,
     whether kinfolk lived or didst die
     (strong possibility linked thy

aver diagnosed with
     schizoid personality disorder)
nope...not even
     hugging me mum,
     (whose desperate non
     
     verbal plea ignored)
     days before she passed away,
now as a father, (whose eldest
     well on her way
     to promising future)

     her rebuffed overtures stung
     at paternal resolution,
     until this day, when
     a singular sentence
     she emailed as sent

     ting genuine permission
     for her to glimpse
     a poignant poem,
perchance inducing my loving cry!

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Leanne Lovejoy-Burton October 10, 2018 at 11:35 AM What can one say to this one...perhaps, one day, thine prodigy will get thine message. It may be when one is long departed this dimension, but it will be read and it will be thoroughly understood. Matthew Harris October 12, 2018 at 10:58 PM "gnome hatter this worded message posse sub billy need dulls your adept aptitude with me manifestation, obfuscation, syllabic satiation may obscure, or more lack substance, a playfulness instigates this rambling prolixity. tis inherent within this ac/dc (dirty deeds done dirt cheap) body electric to cogitate intelligently without exuding prolific pomposity, magnanimity, grandiosity, et cetera, cuz this generic foo fighting bestie boy relishes expanding the repertoire of words. Matthew Harris October 12, 2018 at 10:57 PM the title ye referenced asper "Blessed Child" might best be tweaked (a twit till bit) to "Blessed Grown Child" since said progeny seems to prefer emotional estrangement, and thus this papa accepts as due process (or whatever technical term for comeuppance), since aye likewise never fostered filial fealty of this sole son.