Dad and the Bike
Learning to ride a bike, and accept my dad.
“Hold the handlebars straighter.”
He was so matter of fact about everything
there was a frigid twinge in his voice, at times
that left me so alone, I never understand
why he even bothered
“You are too worried about falling. Don’t
think about the fall. Balance your weight.”
Sure, what did he know of pain or fear
he gave that out like halloween candy, I
saw the way other men would defer to him,
little did he know that was one lesson I
would pick up without a problem
“We are going to run for a few feet now.”
I have been running for years now, my
heart is tired and the buildings, like the
people in my life, are blurred from the tears
just glossy streams of maroon and
lapis lazuli hued in pyrite like my father’s
aura
“Don’t stop peddling!”
My angry feet and wobbly legs haven’t yet
seen eye to eye on anything, lest of which is
the operation of this bicycle and as I look down
to scold them I notice my frayed laces
coming undone, all gray and beige and off
white like floppy dogs ears stuck out a car
window, the tail to my kite
the braided, knotty bottoms of my hand me
down jeans that never fit me quite right and always
draped behind me like a reluctant bride’s gown
my life felt as if it was being eaten from the
ground up, from the past to now, the dreadlocks
of my childhood flailed in locks that I could
never find room for and flapped like my laces,
beating out a rhythm for my coming, a requiem
for the fall
“Are you okay?”
Splayed out on battle hardened concrete that had
more compassion than this man, with the smirk
that was supposed to make me feel better I just
stared at the spokes that spun a silent record, the
pedals with their ghostly hot walk still attempting
to reach the corner and shaking hands that
appeared to have cyanosis but were simply allergic
to the loneliness I felt even with him there
as the sweat dripped from my cubic face I slowly
spelled out, hold me dad, in the dirt and grime
and prayed silently that he wouldn’t see it
Lys •
why are you so lovely? i love drinking in your words, feeling your emotions, every bit of them. i love your play with images in my head. i love seeing what you see and how you see whatever it is you are trying to show me. i can barely wait to jump to the next word without any fear of tripping or falling into the spaces between them. i can’t believe the power you hold over me with the way you mess up the empty white page with clearly jumbled letters that mean so much in just the right way; the way you rearrange them over and over. your writing is no less than a compilation of your own aesop’s fables, only your audience is composed of that which will pluck the feathers from you and keep them in a glass vase on the table for everyone to see and for everyone to touch and smell. your words are nothing short of fantastic. don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise, ever. your mind is such a cage for your heart and i’m so glad you are slowly opening the door. i can only hope that one day i will know how it feels to release my heart like you do.
deliriousgirl
OH JEEEEZE! This has to be the most wonderful thing I’ve read in awhile!!! I’m so freekin impressed and I don’t impress too easily these days. Lys says she wants to drink in your words. I want to wallow around in them, rub them into my skin, engrave them on my internal organs. This is great work!
mstrace
I felt every word, every image, every nuance. Why is the love we hold, or don’t hold, or want desperately to hold for our Dads such a messy and lasting thing? Fathers must be in the air tonight, having dreamt about and written about my own just now.
This is a beautiful piece of work, poignant, dark and full of parental longing. It is the most bitter kind of sweet. Thank you SO SO much for sharing!
jjgmail replied
You are very welcome. Thank YOU for your share. Family is incredibly emotional, I know. Still trying to figure mine out!
Peter Evans
Excellent trip back to the past mate.
No doubt you felt as much pride in yourself as I did when you took off on your own.
But you probably didn’t see his pride because, if he was like my Dad, he believed he wasn’t allowed to show such emotions!
He died before I got a chance to say goodbye and to show him mine, don’t make the same mistake.
Superb work :-)
jjgmail replied
My family of stone. Chipping away at the surface to one day sculpt some semblance of emotion. Thanks for the words Peter, it means a lot.
PJ Ryan
such a beautiful brilliant write xx
jjgmail replied
Thanks Nicole. Sometimes it’s hard accepting such a compliment, but I really appreciate it.
PJ Ryan
oh, i feel compelled to add ~ my dad gave me my first bike without training wheels .. i pushed it around for a year. No exaggeration.
jjgmail replied
I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I think that is wonderful. I don’t think I would have had the courage to push anything around for a year, especially with my dad hovering over me.
deliriousgirl
_My family of stone. Chipping away at the surface to one day sculpt some semblance of emotion. _
your words absolutely mesmerize me
jjgmail replied
You are far too kind.
Yasemin Sumner
This kind of perspective, this backwards, forwards, looking glass thing. It gives me such a dizzy feeling of peace. Like the vertigo is finally exposing the truth. Your words are honest in a way that make me want to be too. Thank you.
Oh, and Lys, stop breaking my goddamn heart. Her comments here are something shiny, they’re something else.
jjgmail replied
You are most welcome. This was difficult to write, as are most pieces about my family, hence the back and forth. I found it easier to give from my truth this way.
I found your poem ‘tickle me aubergine’ comforting, lovely.
Lys IS something shiny!
fleece
i like this
jjgmail replied
Thank you.
Blaze66
Very touching! Your work is excellent. I love the way you describe things so that you feel them right through the heart. Wonderful emotion evoking and mellow feel to the piece! Thanks for sharing!
jjgmail replied
My life is all feeling now. It is work for me having been shut down my whole life, to express this way without fear of being struck with shame. Thanks so much for taking the ride with me. :D
tracyxkeema
this is an excellent piece of work, i’m still crying, like blaze66 this went right through my heart, this stirred huge emotion in me especially the lines ‘hardened concrete that had
more compassion than this man’ and ‘I slowly spelled out, hold me dad, in the dirt and grime
and prayed silently that he wouldn’t see it’, such intensity, your imagery is captivating. I have issues with my father too, he’s a brick wall but putty underneath, i wish i could break through.
jjgmail replied
There is so much identification in just the lines you pointed out. The writing helps, it really helps. No one can tell me not to write. I am coming to realize that my writing might inspire or free someone else to do the same, process their inner…feelings. I am overjoyed that you could find something within the words that moved you. Thank you for sharing with me so honestly.
abatst
Hi I read your amazing piece, and the comments below it.. It is wonderful and awful that you should feel struck with shame sometimes about your writing. I am in awe of what you create with your feelings and words. So brilliant. Nobody else can do this. Only you. Please keep going….....
jjgmail replied
I will, I will. Writing is cathartic and one of the healthiest outlets for me. Thank you for the comment, so wonderful!
mistletoes
That is a piece of pure beauty. Thank you.
jjgmail replied
You are most welcome, and thank you for your comment!
burntblue
gentle and powerful and very good. Love it very much! What a window into a tender world.
jjgmail replied
It is a tender world, well said…and thank you.
Dane Austin
Wow… your words have dumbstruck me! I’ve been at RB for several months now, and tonight is the first time I’ve ventured into the writing section. Yours is the first piece of writing I’ve read, and I wonder if it’s possible to get any better than this. Your words are hard, powerful, and raw, and they apparently bring many of us back to those times in our young lives that yank at the very cores of us, as though our firmly snagged anchors threatened to wrench our lifeboats right under.
Thank you for a great introduction to the writing section of RB, and I look forward to reading more of your writing and that of others here. Take care.
jjgmail replied
I am grateful that my writing can elicit any sort of response, never mind the level of honesty and vulnerability that I have received recently. This was an intimate writing. As difficult as it was to write (there was a bit of shame around the subject), it was even more challenging to post. Your response is a cosmic kindness. Thank you.
paintingmagic
Oh my, how this artwork (yes, artwork) strikes me. It tugs the watering eyes to stream freely (‘course it probably doesn’t help that I’m eating really spicy chips at the same time). Even your replies to these wonderful comments are poetic and beautiful. All I can say is, SEE ABOVE!
jjgmail replied
That was funny. It feels nice to smile about this piece. What kind of chips? Your comment feels like we know each other; it was great, thanks!
genie17
It’s inspirational and theraputic all together.
jjgmail replied
the one begets the other apparently. I am glad the poem affected.
wigs
wonderfully written…I like this….
jjgmail replied
thank you so much.
roger boreham
This was funny,,,,,, well done ,,,,, by the way did you hear about the irish vet who tried to separate a siamesse cat,,,,,,
jjgmail
Not sure what was funny. Thanks though, I guess.
Did you hear about the Irish pilot?
He refused to fly the jet unless they put the propeller back on.
butterflysoul
Cool <