I am posting a Father's Day tribute for a friend, Bennet Pomerantz, to his dad Thursday and Friday:
Its funny when I wrote this piece years ago, It echoed how I felt with the loss of my father David.
I read this poem over my Father’s gravesite with family and friends present. My brother and I wanted to say something special to speak of our love for our father, who died four days after his 67th birthday. As a writer, I thought the best way to give him a tribute was a poem. Not to be rude to my brother, but I forgot what he said. I think it was the lines to Cats in a Cradle by Harry Chapin. I am unsure, I could be wrong
With the holiday of Father’s Day looming over me again, as It does every year. I have no children, so I feel very empty. So this year for Father’s Day, I wanted to share something about my father. Note this poem appears in the collection Loving Hearts Live Forever.
My heart go out to those whose parents are long gone, as my father is. Father’s day is a hard holiday to face for me. I hope your Father’s day is a happy one.
The Fisherman's Son
By Bennet Pomerantz
What I learned from my father . . .
People grow old, we all will die
and most of us truly never understand why.
Mysteries belong in novels.
Questioning why does not really help,
There are so many unanswered volumes,
which lay dormant upon the book shelf.
Death is for the living. Dying is the ages.
Blood isn't always thicker than water,
flowing like leaves from pages.
Promises are broken numerous times.
Too many opportunism are forsaken.
Work is power, money buys the finer things.
Life isn't forever and time is too quickly taken.
Day to day tends to become more morbid,
so hard to comprehend.
You need to grown up fast, my son
and push as hard as you can.
I also learned is my father was a fisherman,
in both the land and the sea.
However his big catches were not fishes mounted on a wall,
but his family, friends and a wayward son, me.
I knew he wrestled and reeled in and out the time with me,
casting, waiting, jostling with me all through my life . . .
Venturing boldly, many time with nothing gained,
sometimes day after day, night after night
Love isn't measured in a teacup,
nor a saucepan, an eyedropper or a Swiss bank.
Riches are how you make them with the people in your life,
Good or bad, heartfelt or heartsank.
"Remember respect is earned, my son." my father said
"Learning is always done on a curve"
"Tomorrow's lessons you should learn today
by knowing what you are to watch, learn and observe."
I watched him leave on his boat, while I was sitting at the shore
he is still fishing without me as, I wait for the boat to dock today.
Watching the waves, hoping the boat Safari will come in soon,
as I sit perched myself on the dock of Xanadu Bay
His boat still fishes upon the waters of his beloved Grand Bahamas.
knowing he is departed, awaiting for his return.
Time passes, his words still echo, some hurtful and some wise.
Whereas I, the fisherman's son, still have so much to learn.
@Pen & Ink inc