A Blessing and a Curse

[rsadasiv]

I try to be patient

In the face of your impatience

I try to be calm

As you rage against authority

The wild Irish temper

That rises above your grandmother's freckles

And pulls you up out of your seat

Makes you dance across the room

A marionette tied to the strings

Of your father's upbringing and your ancestor's genes.

 

The second son of seven

Tied to a home of stone and sod

With a taste for whiskey and tales of rebellion

Saturday night spent in flight from the cops

Sunday morning hidden in an ancient Celtic cross

In the British census you were marked as John

But in the village you were known as

The one who got away

To America.

 

I curse you to never feel satisfaction

To see injustice plain in all of its forms

I bless you with strength

Quickness of mind and limb

A winning smile, the desire to learn.

I curse you to be unable to follow

An excoriating inability to suffer fools gladly.

I grant all of these qualities to you

Because I carry the burden of carrying them too.

[blue2blue]

He said excoriating.

 

 

 

I'm gonna have to wait for a recorded version to decide how I feel about how these words work...

[Chicken Monkey]

I think you lay on the Irish references a little thick:

 

May the road rise up to meet you

All the way to the Blarney stone

I'll cook you some potatoes

And we'll have 13 kids, as birth control is forbidden

 

There's a lot of beautiful lines in there, but that bit seemed heavy handed.

[rsadasiv]

Just got back from two weeks with my Irish mother. If you think I lay it on a little thick, well, I guess you just had to be there.

[Chicken Monkey]

I was going to recommend some steel cut oats to detox, but I think those are Scottish.

[blue2blue]

Does she live in Ireland, Ram?

 

I had a Scottish grandmother. And even though she was born in the States, she was a full McIntosh. There were pipers at her memorial services.

[rsadasiv]

She lives in New England. She was actually born in New York, but got Irish citizenship through my grandmother.

[blue2blue]

Ah... my grandma was born in Indiana. But, you know, she was the first one in her line in memory to marry outside Clan McIntosh. Thank goodness, it's a big clan. (Though, I have to say, I've always felt just a little, shall we say, overbred. ) She didn't have any burr, but she had plenty of Scotts attitude.

[Eclepto Funk]

very nice

 

that really stands out as a poem. it doesn't need any music

 

the word play on the last line is priceless. "But in the village you were known as / the one who got away / to America" is awesome.

 

if i may suggest a few word cuts (in bold) to let the Seamus Heaney terseness of language shine through (it's already there):

 

 

I try to be patient In the face of your impatience I try to be calm As you rage against authority The wild Irish temper That rises above your grandmother's freckles And pulls you up out of your seat Makes you dance across the room A marionette tied to the strings Of your father's upbringing and your ancestor's genes. The second son of seven Tied to a home of stone and sod With a taste for whiskey and tales of rebellion Saturday night spent in flight from the cops Sunday morning hidden in an ancient Celtic cross In the British census you were marked as John But in the village you were known as The one who got away To America. I curse you to never feel satisfaction To see injustice plain in all of its forms I bless you with strength Quickness of mind and limb A winning smile, the desire to learn. I curse you to be unable to follow An excoriating inability to suffer fools gladly. I grant all of these qualities to you Because I carry the burden of carrying them too.

 

[anglerfish]

Did you cut out the lines Chicken Monkey mentioned? They don't appear to remain...