Dad,

Where are you? Can you hear me?
Can we communicate right now?
It's your son, and I've grown older,
but still so much I don't know how.

It's just a few years since you've left us,
though for many you were ready.
I saw you fade  but to a whisper,
from a voice so strong and steady.

And though you may have thought
I couldn't wait for you to die;
Today, I stand bewildered.
I beg for one more chance to try.

To try to ask you how you did it;
be a husband and a dad?
Things I never thought to ask you,
or did not know how since I was mad.

But, they throw food across the table.
Constantly fight and misbehave,
and then my wife feels so defeated.
(You must be turning in your grave.)

I worry so I've failed my boys.
As I remember, so once did you.
Though my brothers and I, we made it.
Just exactly how, **I never knew.

The things I never saw you do,
yet, you must've done somehow.
Solving all the world's dismays.
Never failing in your vow.

You made it look so easy.
So calm and  yet concerned.
No question left unanswered.
No compliment unearned.

You always looked undaunted.
Did you ever want to run?
Where did you find the answers
on exactly how to raise a son?

I sat smugly as a young man
dismissing all you said to me.
But, sadly now I sit here
wishing for one more chance to see.

They gathered by Williamson Road at sun-up
      from neighboring spreads across the Tioga valley.
They came with carts laden with lumber stacks -
      with saws, adzes, hammers and sundry tools.

They gathered with the homesteaders bond.
      to co-build their neighbor's' dreams.

Sweet music of community echoed off the hills.
     Chisels clanged into rock, shaping the foundation,
saws sang into boards to frame a timbered skeleton.
     The staccato syncopation of hammers fastened walls
that soon would shelter plowshares, stock and grain.
      A smithy leaned over his fire and forge -
chiming iron into sturdy latches and hinges.

     Children scurried about mixing squeals and laughter
with exuberant fetching and lifting whenever called.
    
In two short passings of the sun the deed was done
      and a handsome new barn, decked out in a wash of red
was silhouetted tall and proud against the fading light.

Homesteaders gathered at a celebration table
      to share a hearty meal adorned by the music
of fiddles, grateful smiles and easy laughter.
  
Then one by one they steered their wagons home
      gazing back at what their labors had wrought -
knowing to the depth of their communal souls
      that we are more together than we are apart

Listen up, America!  This is the music of community.
      We are more together than we are apart.

*© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard

This temper that lives inside
Storms out unexpectedly
Like a monster unleashed
Ignited by stress

Spilling Anger
Yelling in irritation
Sensing my mother
Lurking in my shadow
A vile aftertaste still lingers
Forced fed by her poisonous venom

Until I realize
I'm roaring
Splashing my screams onto
My loved ones
Making them cry

The beast has taken over
From the depths
Where my momster
Lay her eggs  
Waiting for them to hatch
And be released
In shame and guilt

The last thing I want
Is the mirage of that
Ghost haunting
My babies

The creature that resides
Hidden from the world
To protect against  
The carnivores who feasted
On my innocence

Now breathing to exhale my scare
Away from my young's oxygen
One breath at a time until
The monster's ghost
Has settled back
Deep inside my oppressed soul

© Jl 2016

I was raised on dissonance
watching the mental conflicts rage war in each of the human beings I am a product of.
they almost named me concordance so that I would never feel like I was the product of two failures
so that I would feel whole in a divided world
but from day one I have been an anomaly
loving pain but living with the fear of being hurt
this is why they named me variance
to teach me that growing up meant filling in the pieces
and that it was okay if each piece was taken from another whole to patch yourself together
I was raised on numbers
my first word was five
this number composes all human beings
five fingers
five toes
five vital organs
but none of them are mine.

-KZ

That woman has never had a motherly soul.
           That is why her children have become so impudent!
Patience and Kindness is the key to raising young ones.
           Support and Love is the key to raising young ones.
                      Trust and Faith is the key to raising young ones.