Posts Tagged ‘Joy’

765

Posted: June 25, 2017 in 2017, Haiku, Poetry
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Croaking old frog

Ripples upon the pond

Rejuvenation 

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© Paul Nichol. 2017

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The strongest restraint

that binds us, is our sadness

for our lack of joy.

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©  Paul Nichol.2016

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The joys of your life.

The tragedies of your life.

Unique.  Commonplace.

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© Paul Nichol.  2016

 

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This lunchtime I took my two eldest sons to the Pub for a pint.   J was recently eighteen and O is home from University for a few days of eating, drinking and washing.

This was an important time for me, a ‘rite of passage’ in my relationship with J, for he too is an introvert.   J seldom asks us for things and he is intensely caring and reserved, but when he is the focus of our love and attention, he shines as a beckon of joy that fills our bruised hearts.

As I sat with J in the Pub, talking, and watching him play pool with his brother, I could not help but reflect on my own life aged eighteen, how, by then I was already lost to such family bonding experiences.   My own Father had died just before my seventeenth birthday so I never experienced this kind of physical transition into adulthood and the emotional significances such moments generate.  My relationship with my own Father was torrid and unpleasant and I have few memories which are worthy of recall.    I expect the disappointments he saw reflected in me blinded him form recognising my better qualities, for he saw only his own disabling failings revealing themselves in my adolescent character, and therefore, he disliked me almost as much as I suspect he disliked himself.

How significant can going to the Pub with your Dad be, when measured against all the other emotional and physical dilemmas’ confronting an adolescent youth?    How pleased would I have been to share a pint with my Father if he had lived, not very, I suspect, alcohol was neither his friend nor mine.   However, that was then and I am not my Father, I know am better than him.  Fatherhood is more than a social trophy with which to beat those under your protection with, either psychologically, emotionally or physically.   Fatherhood is an honour.  Fatherhood is the greatest challenge any man can face in his lifetime, a Father must challenge his own failings and correct any damaging behaviours before they are transferred to his child, he must encourage, affirm, love unconditional, share himself without prejudice of favour, listen, laugh, cry, but most importantly he must be there; for a disengaged Father is no Father at all.

I pity my Father because he failed me, and as a consequence, I failed him, and so the spiral of mistrust, anger and bitterness grew every stronger.  He was the adult and should have taken responsibility for our crumbling relationship and taken steps to rectify or to at least stop our collapsing bond.   I know now what a difficult task that would have been; for I was that angry young man, mature beyond my years, disaffected and fiercely stubborn, touching the point of self-destruction., but still a child.

As I look upon my own children, who exhibit qualities of emotional and social maturity which I never processed at their age, I consider whether I should finally acknowledge my achievement as their Father.   For all my sons must carry the same flawed character traits that plagued my early years and those of my kin, and it would be naive of me not to acknowledge the potential for them to erupt once more in any of us:  And I can only hope that through the love, time and commitment I have given my children, those destructive character traits have been permanently transformed into qualities, strong and virtuous.

I have inevitably made mistakes as a Father and now it is up to my sons to recognise them and know not repeat them.  My children give me pure joy; my own Father never experienced this powerful sensation, he never knew my possibilities.

How significant can going to the Pub with your Dad be?   Isn’t it obvious……………Cheers.

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© Paul Nichol.  April 2014

Tanka 38

Posted: January 19, 2014 in Poetry, Tanka
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We both raised a toast,

symbolic celebration.

Our coffee cups kissed.

Breakfast table revelry,

nourishment to last the day.

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© Paul Nichol.  January 2014

Sterile soul

Posted: December 12, 2013 in Cinquain, Poetry
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Ploughing.

Turning over

old thoughts, furrows my brow.

Is new growth possible? Could I,

reap self?

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© Paul Nichol    December 2013

Various poems can be found on my blog, please take a moment and explore.

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Spring has broken in my garden today, only yesterday my pond lay dark and lifeless, no water boatmen or signs of fish.  I had feared that a visiting Heron had gobbled them all up given the number of visits he had made over the past months.  However, to my amazement not only did the sun shine, the air warm, I also discovered that the fish had survived and that there are many baby fish as well.

 Spring Pond