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35. Poetry
35.2. Poemotions
35.2.6. Text of book
Start of page 185 in the book
Part Eight
Parenthood
Prologue Eight
186
By the Father of Daughters 187
Family Influences 188
Daughter's Cry 189
Why are you wearing your Sister's Knickers?
190
Funfair Baby 191
Start of page 186 in the book
Prologue Eight
The Bennion Muse has little to say about parenthood, but that
little (She insists) is important.
A father of daughters (who very much wanted
a son) broods on his lost boy. My unbegotten son has flaxen hair;
a little boy forgotten he waits there . . .
Another parent grapples with multicuralism:
Pakistanis I couldn't abide, till my daughter decided to court
one.
An adolescent daughter finds herself stifled.
Mother dear, disappear: you're not needed here. But perhaps she
is still needed.
Then a new-born baby boy suffers unexpected
rejection from his radiant Mother, who always wanted a girl.
The group ends with the poem that has always
moved me most.
Start of page 187 in the book
By the Father of Daughters
I
My unbegotten son has flaxen hair
a little boy forgotten, he waits there
skulks in my skull, kicking the cells about
desperately seeking the way out
Behind his keen bright stare suspicion grows
soon he will sense what his fond father knows
this planetary life is not designed for all
failure to rise is worse than any fall
II
He fights it though
denies his fate
demands his birth
and will not wait
Poor hapless youth
you must not fight
unseemly truth
denies your right
III
I will not withhold my love
from this boy who longs for birth
I will do what can be done
to personify his worth
I'll write it down, since writing's the last
word
his unrecorded story shall be told
his unbirth birthed
I'll not be denied my heir
IV
But will that be enough to bring my boy to life?
The answer of course is no -
So?
Start of page 188 in the book
Family Influences
So far I have made up the world like my family.
Pakistanis I couldn't abide
till my daughter decided to court one -
and then what could I do?
Irish papists I used to loathe,
being a devout non-practising Proddie.
Then my son waltzed in with the Rose of Tralee
and I was struck dumb.
My dear little nephew
has started writing to a Japanese girl.
Well he'd better get on with it as far as I'm concerned:
there are limits to multiculturalism.
Start of page 189 in the book
Daughter's Cry
You tell me where to live;
you tell me when to love -
when, and how, and whom to love;
the detail's pitiless.
You lay out my path,
you plot all my growth,
the length and breadth and depth of me -
shallowing my depth.
Mother dear, disappear,
go away, dearest dear:
on your way, get away,
you're not needed here.
Oh, oh she's gone!
I'm the deserted one.
Start of page 190 in the book
Why are you Wearing your
Sister's Knickers?
New-born first-born, freshly washed and dressed:
with pride they brought you to your radiant Mother.
Gently she held you, then remembered
that you were not the long-expected daughter
And threw you to the bottom of the bed.
Start of page 191 in the book
Funfair Baby
Look at the mess I've done to my hand;
hear, as I die in shock,
a sigh for you.
Look at the mess you've done to the world,
look away at me;
the world we knew, the funfair ride.
Hear the noise the world must spew
crash across the down:
the world untrue, the fun belied.
Look at the mess our lives are in,
look away at me,
the lives we knew, the lie beside.
Listen, the crashing funfair noise
gags a kid in pain;
the fair askew, the unfair life denied.
Look at the mess I've done to my hand
hear, as I die in shock,
a sigh for you, with love.
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