THE SEED (in the beginning)
My father was a Poet in his bygone days
there were his ‘Ode to a Kite Hawk’ and poems on Indian ways.
He wrote of love for Mother and of David too
there were his words of Christian faith and a prayer or two.
When I used to know him before he sadly died
he would show his poems to me with modest pride.
But I was too young to see the light, of the seed he’d sown in me
at that time, I did not take to words of poetry.
Then one late November day as I sat there in my room
I heard on the radio someone sing words to a classic tune.
My head was suddenly full of words running around in rhyme
could it be the seed he’d sown had found its harvest time?
Now, I’m just beginning, in this moment of time
to see if I can also write something down in Rhyme.
I’d like to think the way he wrote now lives inside of me
and I too can write some words in verse like him as poetry.
Copyright © TIM KITCHEN | Year Posted 2010
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