31st Birthday

[TranquillityBase]

31st birthday

Suddenly I remember
I had a son.

I drop down
into an empty place.

It’s a soft landing.

I sit at an old picnic table
on the shore of a lake.
It’s August, the month when he was born.

The table is shaded by a tin roof
held up by four worn cedar posts.

John sits across from me.

I ask him how he is doing
and he says “OK”.

He’s never been much for long conversations
unless the questions came from him.

He is gone again
and I watch the waves on the lake
roll towards me.

31st birthday

Suddenly I remember
I once had a son.

I drop down
into an empty place.

It’s a soft landing.

I sit at an old picnic table
on the shore of a lake.
It’s August, the month when he was born.

The table is shaded by a tin roof
held up by four worn cedar posts
decades older than I am.

John sits across from me.

I ask him how he is doing
and he says “OK”.

He’s never been much for long conversations
unless the questions come from him.

He is gone again
and I watch the waves on the lake
roll towards me.

I once had a son.

[busker]

Poignant and beautiful.
The universe rolls on oblivious to human grief. I don’t know why.
I think it’s more powerful without the last line at the end

[Lizzie]

He’s never been much for long conversations
unless the questions come from him. 

Don't want to ruin your thread with a bunch of blah blah, but this part is gutting. The fact that he leaves again is wrenching, and yet there seems to be a sense of hope that, maybe, one day the conversation will continue longer. The overlapping of hope and grief is so beautifully done and leads seamlessly into the wave imagery. 

I agree with busker that the last line lessens the impact of the waves coming in, but this one's a keeper. This is publishable, IMO. It has a cinematic feel to it.

[TranquillityBase]

Thank you Busker and Lizzie,

I agree about the last line.  I feel like the conversation is too brief.  I'd be curious as to your (or anyone else's) advice about that.  Or is that simple "OK" enough?  But if I made it longer, it would short circuit the following lines.

TqB

[Knot]

Hi Tim,
strong stuff.
I agree with the others, that last line really undermines the rest of the poem.

I think 'Okay' works (or 'fine').

Would prefer to see the whole thing in couplets.



I remember I once had a son
and drop down into an empty place.

A soft landing: an old picnic table
on the shore of a lake. It’s late August. *

Beneath an old tin roof held up by ancient cedar posts
John sits across from me. I ask him how he is

he says “OK”. Just that. He’s never been one for long
conversations, unless the questions come from him.

Then, he is gone again and I'm left watching
the waves roll towards me. "Happy birthday, son."


* It seems to me the whole 'month he was born' is redundant given the title.

Seems that the tenses are a little ... variable here. Should the 'watch the waves' be in the present tense? (It is August after all.

Best, Knot.

[Lizzie]

Thank you Busker and Lizzie,

I agree about the last line.  I feel like the conversation is too brief.  I'd be curious as to your (or anyone else's) advice about that.  Or is that simple "OK" enough?  But if I made it longer, it would short circuit the following lines.

TqB

It's definitely enough. One of the great tragedies of the piece is the one-sidedness of the relationship. You could always try having that bit be longer and see what everyone thinks; there's really no harm in trying if you feel like you'd always wonder. But, you certainly don't need more, IMO.