fathers and their children

In My Father's Eyes
(by Eric Clapton)

by stu pidasso

23Feb2011

My office wall is adorned

with three separate portraits

of the same man,

whose stress on my life

is still being realized.

His father was a junior

making him "the third".

He used the Roman numeral three

as his mark quite frequently.

I see that figure often now

standing resolute in my mind.

Those three pillars,

upright and strong,

are my symbol of how he was

and how I wish to be.

Wisdom comes with age.

Age comes with time.

Time is what we wish we had used better

once we are older and wiser.

I get my advice from him these days,

by reflecting upon his life,

savoring every juicy bit

of example he did provide

by living a life I can

now appreciate and respect.

I just wish I had taken the time

to let his words linger in my ears,

to notice the work he produced

with his able hands and body,

to ask about the origins

of his convictions.

I wish I could look

in my father's eyes

and tell him how much

I respect and miss him now.

And, I hope that my son

does not let pass

the same chances

to talk to me.

Look what I stepped in.....

Serendipity of Slutdom

by stu pidasso

25Jan2011

My path to ruin

has spanned the years

My choice of actions

has elicited tears

The consequences of which

has stoked my fears

and left me a debt

which is still in arrears

The descent of my honour

is a pitiful ordeal

my shame and my sorrow

are hard to conceal

Chasing life like prey

has passed with the thrill

for my wasted life is

the true victim of my kill

For one of the young ladies

I bagged in the hunt

wound up carrying child

due to my callous want

The untimely occurrence

led me to the church front

Then to child number two and

a role much more important

But somehow amidst

this life long mess

The only trophies I have

I stumbled upon, I confess

Now I strive to atone

without an ounce of duress

or a single iota

of intent to impress

For during the time

I was trying to feel

any and all of the pleasure

the Devil used to appeal

To me to lead me astray

so my soul he could steal

has led to my salvation,

and that, I find is surreal

This is my offering for last weeks challenges at 3 Word Wednesday and the Wednesday Poetry Challenge at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer. The 3 words are descent, kill and surreal.

Will it ever end?

Tribulations

by stu pidasso

13Oct2010

This world is a rough and tumble place

and tough are the obstacles we all face.

Tedious and tiresome can be this rat race

as we all try to find some peace and solace

But when we are competing against so many,

it's expected that we run into the random unfriendly.

No matter when along the journey from five to ninety,

the ridicule we all will endure will be plenty.

The names which we will be called is sure to try,

and many will be the tears we are forced to cry.

Boos and hisses are the ammo the crowd will let fly.

Sometimes it will be so bad, we'll just want to die

But what we weather in our lives is not who we are.

It matters not the numbers or the type of scar.

Unimportant is the weight we drag or how far

our position is above or below the population's par.

How we conduct ourselves is the ultimate measure.

Are you a pain in the arse or are you a pleasure?

All the memories we share are the priceless treasure,

and all those unfriendlies out there might say, "Yeah, sure."

So when you find yourself mistreated now and again,

remember that it's how you play and not if you win.

Absolve all those who treat you wrong of their sin,

and part ways with them amicably with a hug and a grin.

Forgive and forget, but keep hostile feelings at bay.

Wipe the slate clean at the start of each day.

We all have to eat our words, so watch what you say;

and life is hard enough, so remember to play.