LIES I’VE TOLD
My dad is a movie star
pretty soon he’ll come get me
we’ll go to Hollywood
and I’ll be on his TV show.
Want my autograph?
He’s a spy
a famous scientist working on a cure for polio
I can’t come to your party
because my dad is taking me
to the zoo.
We always go to the monkey house first.
Right now my dad is asleep
so we have to play at your house.
(Can’t you hear him snoring?)
My dad travels a lot.
but he taught me how to tie my shoes
ride a bike
and how to speak Pig-Latin
so we could share secrets just between us.
Last week he gave me his lucky silver dollar
and promised to buy me a pony
for my birthday.
He’ll be home soon
and you can ask him yourself.
@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2010
All Rights Reserved
Tanita Says :
My Dad reads a lot, so we’d have to be quiet … we should probably just play in your driveway.
We’re going on vacation, so I won’t be home.
Well, I can’t come to your birthday party, because my Dad’s taking us shopping.
Dad’s buying us a car.
…and more lies.
Re: Tanita Says :
Oh Tanita. You know. You SO know just what I mean.
Love this, Susan (though it’s heartbreaking).
Thank you, Jama. Heartbreaking for many years but this journey is healing me.
so much truth among the lies…xo, Susan
All between the lines.
Oh my goodness, this is excellent. It reminds me of a conversation I overheard in a local library. One librarian was telling the other about the effect reading a specific Roethke poem had on an audience of teens. When she’d finished, one of them said, “Yeah, my dad’s alcoholic, too.”
This poem taps into something deeply universal.
Thank you. I love it when I can find that universal connectin!
Susan, the specificity of this poem is just lovely. 🙂
Thank you. I’m writing these fast and it sort of surprises me sometimes.
With each poem I read, you deepen my understanding—and will help me help a couple of little ones close to me when that time comes. Thank you.
Oh my, this makes my heart ache that you will have to answer some tough questions too. But I know you will find the right way.
That poem is so wonderful and it made me cry. My alcoholic dad was fun and reliable (workaholic) but my mother, who would have been helped by Alanon, was kind of a witch. You could change the w to a b and still be accurate, and nothing we did was ever good enough…
Is it wrong that I love to know that I make people cry? 🙂
I know there are a great many people who had a parent that they wished were different and some of them have told me that maybe it was a good thing but you know, there’s that hole that you just keep poking.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could make life just as we wanted it through a few simple dreams. It would be so much easier than the truth. My dad was an alcoholic, who was hardly ever home I used to lie awake at night until he came home to make sure he did. He was so selfish, he used to just sit and watch tv and let my mother wait on him. Yet he thought he was so perfect. He hardly ever spoke to me and when he did it was only to tell me how I was never going to amount to anything etc etc. I proved him wrong though and mow he spends his days full of loneliness and bitterness because he chose to push us all away all those years ago. Yes not having a father can be heartbreaking but sometimes having one can be even more so.
– Anne McKenna
Funny how history repeats itself
Wow, Susan. This is beautiful and heartbreaking and courageous, and I’m in awe. Your never-present father wounded you deeply but you’re strong enough to use that hurt in such a powerful way. Wow.
Tracy you are so darn good for my ego. Thank you.
Loving your poetry. xoxo
another great one
Once again, excellent. I can feel the optimism…maybe one day…
Re: another great one