Deb Radke Poet Free verse

My Father

I hear his voice

Grown old with my absence;

His powerful presence pale

And querulous no more.

Sad and searching words

Now come from his throat

Where the crescent scar, once madly red,

Lies faded like a wan, winter moon.

His frailty frightens me;

His rage more easily defended

Than this unfamiliar exigency.

My armor has no resistance

Against warm, melted anger

Colored with guilt.

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James Fraser December 17, 2010 at 2:40 AM This reminds me of my father Deb, he also had a scar on his throat through cancer which eventually took him. I have also written a poem about him, it's called 'A Man I'll Never Be' It's a track title by a band called Boston. So many of my poems have a music influence in the, whether lyrics or track titles. To my favs this goes, as does you >> James :)