The Intensely Loved
The intensely loved and cherished child
Can suffer late.
Waiting innocently through
The too few summers
Spent in total love.
Above him still, the parents’ strength
Prescribes the length
His loving years shall run,
Before time’s taint reveals his ancient face
Beneath the slowly peeling paint
Of pictures placed
To keep the knowing day at bay,
And stay completion of the plan
To mould the clay, in such a way
He grows a sold and silent man.
Unless time slays his rising sun
Can suffer late.
Waiting innocently through
The too few summers
Spent in total love.
Above him still, the parents’ strength
Prescribes the length
His loving years shall run,
Before time’s taint reveals his ancient face
Beneath the slowly peeling paint
Of pictures placed
To keep the knowing day at bay,
And stay completion of the plan
To mould the clay, in such a way
He grows a sold and silent man.
Unless time slays his rising sun
To extinguish all sensation
In one swift and savage stroke,
Before a doubt is spoken,
Or disaffection’s woken
From his learning touch.
He perhaps, expects too much.
Such is the faith of infants,
Secure within their fragile skin,
So thinly wrought in thoughtful art,
In one swift and savage stroke,
Before a doubt is spoken,
Or disaffection’s woken
From his learning touch.
He perhaps, expects too much.
Such is the faith of infants,
Secure within their fragile skin,
So thinly wrought in thoughtful art,
The heart’s wild wishes can depart,
But disenchantment can’t see in.
© James Rainsford 2011
But disenchantment can’t see in.
© James Rainsford 2011
Note to readers: Posted as my contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Your views are welcome. Please click on the comments tab below. I'll try to respond to all who visit here
My kind regards to all, James.
James! What a fantastic presentation! The look on the lads face in the photo is priceless...much like this wonderful write. A little sad in tone, as I am forced to think of all we loose in our up and comings in this world...but that look on that child, my goodness...I can remember smiling like that! Thank you!
ReplyDeleteA thin line indeed, wonderful rhyming pace too!
ReplyDeleteA parents adoring love, instead of a daycare worker and teachers. I was blessed to just watch my little ones laugh (and cry) and enjoy all their exploring and discovering. Freedom and joy replaced by the regimen of school and peer pressure... It is so hard for me to let them go and get hurt, to fail. But summer comes to an end, and off they went, go and will go and that is the way of life. But that face in the photo... REALLY tugs at my heart strings. Now I must go hug and squeeze my 3 year old... ;)
ReplyDeleteI love your writing because it is so "real" - it connects with experiences many people have.
Deeply touching-- when that time of innocence is stolen, it's a tragedy-- I loved these lines--
ReplyDeleteTo keep the knowing day at bay,
And stay completion of the plan
To mould the clay, in such a way
He grows a sold and silent man.
Did you mean sold or solid? Love your work, James. xxxj
Interesting play of end sounds/rhyme here exploring that rite of passage - boy to man and the way it molds each one. Well done. G.
ReplyDeleteI like innocence and joy in his face.
ReplyDeleteLike these lines:
He perhaps, expects too much.
Such is the faith of infants,
Secure within their fragile skin,
So thinly wrought in thoughtful art,
The heart’s wild wishes can depart,
But disenchantment can’t see in.
Very adroit use of language, and full of insight into the human condition--as always with your writing, James. I especially like the closing lines.
ReplyDeleteLast weeks post and this weeks both show a great deal of understanding about children, and that knowledge is extensively packaged in the form of two brilliant poems. Too bad more men don't appreciate or understand the knowledge you have shared her.
ReplyDeleteAs I read this wonderful poem, I pondered on the depth of innocent trust, recalling how I woke each day to the belief that imagination ruled the world, adults were an unknown species, pains could be eliminated by a mother's kiss or a cartoon bandaid, fairy tales had happily ever after endings, and star wishes were guarantees. Such a precious time... like an alternate reality to me now. For me, this poem is multi-layered. That is likely my perception from my personal experience. The best poetry lets each reader take personal ownership of the emotions stirred, don't you agree? Bravo! Very much enjoyed.
ReplyDeleteBeth
Look at that child - there is just pure joy on that boy's face, goodness. Beautiful bit of language here too James, your insight into and understanding of children explored through your words is adept and beautiful - touching all around.
ReplyDeleteToo soon we grow and harded...that childhood such a blessing...bkm
ReplyDeleteHm... need to think about your words. I do believe my sons would fit into the character of your piece. I think it made them better men.
ReplyDeletehey James
ReplyDeletealways a pleasure to hear your strong poetic voice matrix as you describe strong ideas.
i dont have children but i think i would worry so much for their future disapointments - it must be a tough aspect of thoughtful parenting.
so easy t lay our disappointmnets at the feet of our fathers.
thanks James