Jo, you are on your way with poetry. I tend to need a theme and a punch line. You have those and you can work on them.
This poem was written in the depths of grief. It is a sad one posted on this forum some time ago. But it is also, in my view, filled with wonder. That my father never kissed me but loved me unconditionally. I got my kiss and broke the tradition men had in the "old days".
TO KISS HIS TEMPLE
There were some things I knew as taboo
to express my love but to question who?
to touch the pale face of my dad back then
when touching taboo...when "men were men"
For boys were male and "you cant do that"
jealous of my sister and that is that
that man couldnt hug his son for how he was seen
nowadays if you hugged your son- well, you'd be relieved.
And so my dad the salt of the land
wouldnt touch me even by hand
he knew he loved me and I him
with a wink of an eye from under his brim
Then that day we all regret came along
where watery eyes was met by song
and there he lie with an eerie smile
I be alone with him for just a while.
As I stroked his forehead cool to touch
I raised my head automatically as such
to kiss his temple of which I dare
I knew his mind was well aware.
Of all the kisses I missed
they gathered together in just one kiss
finally as his spirit rose and went
he left his love and hugs were spent
I never craved again heart be blessed
that tradition of males their love expressed
a kiss on his forehead way back then
ended an era when "men were men"....
White knight
