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darrell-wade-elverumPoems
I have had it all wrong, I wonder if my grandfather thought that, when on a steamer                     he arrived a dreamer of moving west from Montreal single trying to find a life, better, opened and tasted peanut butter,                                                 and never did ever eat that again, I have had it wrong, all of it He kept dreaming and trying, took the train to the northern Alberta, saw his dreams take shape as he built                  homes for other dreamers, he met his wife, but that is a poem for another story, he was a pacifist, he did not support, killing another, but he sure had a temper,            for a peaceful man, he decided to retire, and that let him get old, I admired him for what he stood for and sit at a desk he built with my dad. I still have had it all wrong. The desk is nothing special other than the hands and knowledge that built it and something a father and a son did together, one of the last things of each other, that would be remembered, they worked well with their hands. Both men were dreamers. My dad had his dreams, he mostly kept to himself, but you just knew that they were to do with things outside of the house. Oh don't misunderstand, he loved working with wood, he knew firearms, he recieved a Medal for Military Merit, for dedication above and beyond what a militiaman was to do, he wasn't a pacifist, in many ways he was different from his dad and so many more he was exactly the same.                                                                               Shame, I have had it all wrong. I was not an A student, but Gee, I tried hard, my potential was palpable we just needed to resuscitate it from time to time, I joined the CAF, married and had three who have amazed me, with their strong beliefs, so different from one another, see? I have worked twenty jobs and not one among them defined as a career... oh and yes, I have spent time  in an unemployment line. I am not a carpenter, like the other two could, my grandfather as a career my dad took it on as a hobby, I am a pacifist, yes, but don't push to hard, I might write you into a poem...   I have written so many serious and sombre pieces, There is already so much sadness in the world, If planet Earth could cry a tear, standby with the tissue, I deal with my stuff in words, I try not to hang onto them, Rather free them like birds, Ravens and Crows with Hummingbirds and Eagles, My soul is sore and Animus would rather soar, so I pour the toxins from my mind, my skin, from my day you already know I am not perfect I sin, from my way of life, so I pour the garbage I live and beauty as I see it is around me for you all to read, shame on me I have had it all wrong. I don't have to get it right, I must write. ©DWE122013
0
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
I have had it wrong the whole time
I have had it all wrong, I wonder if my grandfather thought that, when on a steamer                     he arrived a dreamer of moving west from Montreal single trying to find a life, better, opened and tasted peanut butter,                                                 and never did ever eat that again, I have had it wrong, all of it He kept dreaming and trying, took the train to the northern Alberta, saw his dreams take shape as he built                  homes for other dreamers, he met his wife, but that is a poem for another story, he was a pacifist, he did not support, killing another, but he sure had a temper,            for a peaceful man, he decided to retire, and that let him get old, I admired him for what he stood for and sit at a desk he built with my dad. I still have had it all wrong. The desk is nothing special other than the hands and knowledge that built it and something a father and a son did together, one of the last things of each other, that would be remembered, they worked well with their hands. Both men were dreamers. My dad had his dreams, he mostly kept to himself, but you just knew that they were to do with things outside of the house. Oh don't misunderstand, he loved working with wood, he knew firearms, he recieved a Medal for Military Merit, for dedication above and beyond what a militiaman was to do, he wasn't a pacifist, in many ways he was different from his dad and so many more he was exactly the same.                                                                               Shame, I have had it all wrong. I was not an A student, but Gee, I tried hard, my potential was palpable we just needed to resuscitate it from time to time, I joined the CAF, married and had three who have amazed me, with their strong beliefs, so different from one another, see? I have worked twenty jobs and not one among them defined as a career... oh and yes, I have spent time  in an unemployment line. I am not a carpenter, like the other two could, my grandfather as a career my dad took it on as a hobby, I am a pacifist, yes, but don't push to hard, I might write you into a poem...   I have written so many serious and sombre pieces, There is already so much sadness in the world, If planet Earth could cry a tear, standby with the tissue, I deal with my stuff in words, I try not to hang onto them, Rather free them like birds, Ravens and Crows with Hummingbirds and Eagles, My soul is sore and Animus would rather soar, so I pour the toxins from my mind, my skin, from my day you already know I am not perfect I sin, from my way of life, so I pour the garbage I live and beauty as I see it is around me for you all to read, shame on me I have had it all wrong. I don't have to get it right, I must write. ©DWE122013
darrell-wade-elverum
Written by
darrell-wade-elverum
Canadian
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
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