I think I am a good man but...

[onepapa]

I think I am a good man but
hands that work don't rest to pray.
Hours pass in sweat and sweet,
sweet hope that every day will end;
then home to fall into the fold
of old familiar things.

From where I sit I watch you  
as  saintly sleep puts arms
round both of us;
then gently, I  pick you up
and wrap you in warm blankets
made from softer stuff than me.

Your mother sits alone
in the kitchen made of mirth
and madness, songs and sadness…
while we, just you and I,
climb up the stairs.
This is how each day should end.

You will say your prayers
when you are old enough
to speak the unknown words.
I once did, too, when just like you,
I heard my father whisper
in the hiss and drone of night.


I know now that he cried;
for all his love was in his words
and all his words were in my dreams.
That is why, my baby boy,
all my dreams are wrapped
inside a blanket, softer than me.

I think I am a good man
but I have no time for prayer.

Tectak.
2015

Tectak,

Your use of consonance and alliteration and near meter make this lovely poem flow smoothly and soothingly along except for the last line in S3 and the first three lines in S4. This one portion seems discordant to my ear.

You might consider dropping the comma after blanket in the last line of S5.

I also liked the terse ending and the way it separates itself from the sonics of the rest of the poem. I wonder if dropping, "I think" from the first line of the last strophe would help clarify that this man knows he is a good man.

Very nice work.

onepapa