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Open Poetry #5
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Dedicated to My Father "The Man" revised Caution still, it's a long one
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Open Poetry #5
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Dedicated to My Father "The Man" revised Caution still, it's a long one
| Open Poetry #5 |
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Dedicated to My Father "The Man" revised Caution still, it's a long one |
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HelmutB Senior Member
since 2000-01-06
Posts 964Canada |
Thank you "Tori" for helping me out with this for me so important piece. The man He was born when times were hard He always had to be on guard A child, he never could be Too much sadness in his destiny No room for amusement, or childhood fantasy He was forced to face bitter reality Man in brown robes came one day And took his heart away There was nothing he could do or say “Too young” to know right from wrong He did not know where to belong? Those devils had easy fight With just a child in their sight They gave him false hope with empty pride As he went along on their foolish ride They gave him uniform and a song Teaching a child how to be strong Trained him with all the drill Took away a child’s will As they tutored him how to kill Masterminds of Hades, mesmerized his own will The rifle was his only mate, his destiny to kill His mind was his only lock, to block away the fears Was he ever close to haven’s gate, in these tender years? Before he knew the truth, so many had to die Will we ever know the reason why? The place that they called home Turned on them and in the end, let them suffer still alone A soldier he became, yet to many, just a shame At fourteen years in thirty-nine Way to young for medals or a final shrine Fighting for the wrong ideal As six years later, the truth would reveal Three rounds found his hide No one there to hold his pride Again, he tucked it deep inside Lying in the street short of breath Bleeding slowly there to death Russian soldiers walking by carrying their gun He didn’t know his ordeal had just begun The people that teach him how to kill For them, he would pay the final bill Hardly eight-teen years of age All hope gone and left in rage A young life shattered by bullets in his back Shooting pain up in his neck Like knifes the bullets hit One kidney gone the other split Left with fear that he would die In many hours that had gone by Found by medics, who saved his life Yet, his soul went on in pain and strife Only to be thrown into prison for a crime To fight for his country, now, not worth a dime Five long years of POW toil Down in France on enemy soil Blackened each day his weary soul Underground to bring out the coal Behind bars that he did not see Always wondering when he would be free They let him go in forty-eight For his family and his home it was too late No way to return to his mothers eastern home Westward bound he would roam The war had torn his home away There was no reason for him to stay Brother, sister, mom and dad Lost for certain behind the Mighty Iron Curtain My mother was the only one he knew Life still uncertain and askew All he knew of life was a dark hole that captivated his very soul And how to toil the dark black coal With bear hands through tunnels narrower than man He did not know any different then Never knowing how to be a child Not even for a little while The man in brown, they took his smile Twenty-two years had gone by Still hunted by the question why A man he was, who learned to fight Yet a child in the dark of night Build with broken dreams he had A life in hopes, he’d never be sad Married then in fifty-one A child was born, his first a son Two followed, of which I was third His first, he died before he could utter his first word Again, life struck him oh so hard He begun to crumble, down fell his guard His armor broke and so his soul Black was his heart, black as the coal Day in and out he went to toil Not missing one day digging the soil Hard on him self and at his kin Often in range shattering our skin Nothing left of gentle touch How could I say, “I love him so much” His life he gave to a lie so grim Alcohol would make his pain grow dim In drunken escapades he fell out of all control As the Devil likes a well drenched soul Some days he was running mad Made his wife and sons so sad Hugs and love was never heard or known He lost the touch before he’d grown He drove away his sons with fear Only to reach out for another beer Then at the age of sixty-one His final ordeal had come His lungs black like the soil he toiled for years Short of his final goal lost in fears His stomach gone, and liver too He wend to die without taboo That history had born him too Though, the Doctors tried to save Nobody was on his side to wave He told a lie, his last sin, He said “I don’t have a next of kin” He left us all behind to grieve He died like soldiers drawn in siege Three bullets and a dead soldiers song It’s all what’s left to linger on I cannot remember if I ever felt pain or morn I cannot remember if he ever said, “I love you son” I cannot remember a gentle touch I didn’t want to like this man so much Who had not for me a tender touch I didn’t want to grieve inside With such coldness when he died But now that time has me by I don’t try to explain or wonder why I just know out on the battlefield of a war so shamed Something of me went up in flames Was the best this man could give? His hope…unlike him, we could live I now know, I never understood that “Man” That old and angry man, …who was my father. Still something inside of me had died When he never recovered his dignity and sense of pride I did never understood his fight Yet I loved my father no matter what was his plight < !signature--> The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools. [This message has been edited by HelmutB (edited 01-29-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Helmut Becker - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Corinne Member Ascendant
since 1999-10-28
Posts 5167state of confusion |
Wow! I'm speechless, and that don't happen often! Very touching and poignant tribute to your father! Corinne |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Helmut, this is a masterpiece of writing. Such a sad story of an unfortunate man. Robbed of his childhood, used and then abandoned by his country, what a painful life your father lived. Other events grabbed the headlines but the story of your father, and countless others like him, are tragedies of equal importance. It took a lot of courage to write this. You have my full admiration. |
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Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191Cape Cod Massachusetts USA |
Helmut... Mein Vater ist siebzig fünf, und er ist viel wie ihr Vater. Ich sehe ihn in ihrem Gedicht. Danke... Funny I visited your website tonight too...  btw... Mein Vater ist "fluent" auf Deutsch... I'm not.....  |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
What an excellent tale my friend. This is one that needs passed on down the generations and kept as part of the family history |
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HelmutB Senior Member
since 2000-01-06
Posts 964Canada |
Corinne Thank you Corinne the "wow" made ne feel so good Balladeer Thank you for your words. You must know how much your words mean to me. May this never be forgotten. Nan Thank you for you kind words, Your German is very good. Send my regards to your Father and god bless him as well as you. hoot_owl_rn Thank you dearest. Thank you for the hint to keep the poem, I shall get it framed when it is all done, still doing final touches. The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools. |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
We so often look at the politics of a nation and overlook the tragedies of individual lives. Your poem is heartbreaking, Helmut... and a great tribute to your father. He might have had his youth and his dreams and even his ability to show love taken away... but his son's loving heart shines through. |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Helmut, my friend- This is such an awesome walk through life wearing the shoes of another. Brings me to tears to remember what truly happened in the killing fields of history. Love, you have 'gathered' much compassion in this piece. What a wonderful tribute to your father and a testament to the size of your heart. God bless your memories, Helmut Becker. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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RainbowGirl Member Elite
since 1999-07-31
Posts 3023United Kingdom |
Helmut: Big HUGS Feed your dreams with love... |
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HelmutB Senior Member
since 2000-01-06
Posts 964Canada |
suthern Your words have lifted me, Thank you so much for you kind words. Marge You have always nice and heart felt words to say, Thank you dear, don't let anybody tell you different. RainbowGirl Your reply so short but very powerfull, Thank you I take the big hug. I needed one. The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools. |
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Dedicated to My Father "The Man" revised Caution still, it's a long one
