I am a father now

I am a father now, I tell you, I was there …
feeling and sharing in a secondary way
something of the searing pains my dear wife felt that day.
*
It was interminably long for her
as slowly, push by gasping … crying … straining … push
those intermittent hot pulsating surges
stretched more her pelvic frame and cervix.
This, midst low caring murmurings of her doctor and the nurses
who came and checked and whispered
went … came back again … assisted
then left us for a while, mother- and father to-be.
*
And I, helpless and with deep concern did watch
I squeezed her hand and wiped her brow
and kissed her damp, untidy perspirated hair.
From time to time, staff came and went
in crisp clean antiseptic gowns
and in-between they peered and talked and peered some more
and she, submitted to all this invading hurt
as on her crumpled sheets she wrestled there.
*
At least that’s what I thought, imagined it must be for her
I had not realized she saw beyond the drawn-out anguish of her bed.
She knew her body must become a door to motherhood
paining life’s miracle to the light of day.
*
And as a father I can tell you now, it was most wondrous to
behold the moment when my daughter entranced forth,
her tiny body holding so much hope,
as her first blessed helpless human sounds my heart did touch.
*
I had not thought when first began the process to this did span,
that it would be as I experienced now, and I first kissed this babe
of ours upon her lovely, soft and tender brow.
*
And even now, these many years gone by
my arms do feel again in memories treasured times,
her so small body snuggled warm against my chest.
And ‘membering when I first did look upon her face,
I feel those unashamed tears again spill from my eyes.
*
I am her father still, my wife and Love’s best gift,
and will they ever know what word means to me?
I, am a father now.
*
© Dennis Crompton 1994

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Places

In that small cottage over there,

I first saw the light of day.

 *

Up that dark and cobbled street,

awful demons I did meet.

 *

In that schoolyard I met Alfred;

he could pee two inches higher.

 *

In that schoolroom I did learn

the wonders of the written word.

 *

In this ear did a schoolgirl whisper:

come closer, love, and let me kiss you.

 *

My sister gave me in that house there

a delicious slice of her homemade bread.

 *

In that village house I knelt beside

the bedside of a coffined child.

 *

In that air raid shelter I did hide

from enemy bombers in the night.

 *

In this street I once did see

a big red bus run near over me.

 *

From Glasgow city I sailed away,

great expectations filled my day.

 *

Down that road I walked on air,

softly whispering my love for her.

 *

In that ward a miracle I did see;

my first daughter born to me.

 *

So many places I have seen,

wandering, adventurous, lucky me.

 *

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Spring

I speak here of springtime in New Zealand.

*

Of all the seasons of the year

Spring causes me to wonder,

what magic in each dormant seed

awakes, out of itself,

takes root and grows apace.

*

Changing in form to slender stalk,

bearing aloft to Summer suns

a multiplying, delicate, golden spray

ripening to a golden cluster,

making visible the invisible.

*

A picture, of what we’re meant to be,

treading our path from infancy,

onwards to eternity,

experiencing, learning,

widening influence bearing,

the visible made invisible,

in Spring.

*

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

With these eyes I have seen

I have seen with these eyes

things to make me wonder, weep or cry;

been lifted up and cast down too

by the kaleidoscopic gamut

of happenings around.

*

Seen troops of chattering children

free from classrooms’ confining walls,

learning as they strolled hand in hand

along widening enlightening roads.

*

Frail elderlies too, sedate, composed

on their daily walk to town…when,

a sudden swirl of wheeling birds

brings them joy in the sunny air.

*

From trailer hitched to back of truck

stare two soft eyes, lovely and brown

a patient cow from out of town…

now comes a fat and friendly Labrador,

his coat a glossy black

lightly trots his sniffing round

pink tongue peeps from smiling mouth.

*

Be careful now!…he’s on the road,

inspecting something lying there;

hedgehog squashed, exposed, obscene

too late on snail patrol he’d seen

oncoming vehicle lights surprised

and just as suddenly, he died.

*

Here comes a silent, sad-faced gentleman

hurting deeply at employment lost;

services no longer required; sorry,

must lay you off, says his younger efficient boss.

*

There is beauty, wonder, sadness, love…

yes, all these things for me are free.

I can select, absorb, ignore or shut out,

the choice is mine, you see…

from my store of mind-pictures

sometimes deep emotions stir,

make me one with all mankind…

silent at night or away on my own

the call me from the library of my mind.

*

Then warmed or weeping, bless the thought:

‘These things I’ve seen I can share with you’.

*

Dennis Crompton © 1995

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

A spontaneous expression of exuberance

Sometimes as teenagers we would each, in our own way, talk in an exaggerated fashion about all manner of things, quite loudly so that those around would hear. At first, what we said was for ourselves and personal but those around would give us friendly glances and smile. Thus encouraged, we carried on so that the whole atmosphere became lighter and more human. The feeling was similar I think to seeing lambs frolicking in spring, and should anyone of the onlookers have chastised us for our daring to express our feelings and thoughts so openly; that would have been to do us a great wrong. We would surely have curled up and died in some way, lost our freedom of expression, become less of what we were intended to be. Oh we’d have been quiet, yes. Restrained? Yes. Puppets perhaps? Yes, even puppet-like, and surely there are enough of those already!

The puppets were like us at some stage of their development, so they were like us in their experience of their life, and someone looked at them the wrong way, said the wrong thing, did not respond to their openness with tolerance, humour and acceptance. Eventually they became stunted, closed in, wrapped in a cocoon which stopped their unique individual growth.

It was only for a short time you understand, this frolicking and sheer — almost wanton and yet non-destructive — enjoyment of our human freedom, for we had to grow up. Now there’s a stultifying, depressing, dehumanising and killing phrase, like the thrust of a spear against an unprotected belly in an attempt to stop some basic expression of enjoyment. And it must have had its effect on the thruster too, restricting and reinforcing the cocoon-forming ability they’d acquired.

Once a young woman said something to me when I had been enjoying, with others, a moment or two of self-expressive, audience-appreciating happiness. She had such a sad look on her face as she spoke to me. ‘Oh, I will be pleased when you’ve settled down to a quieter and more useful life, instead of doing this sort of thing. You were meant for better things you know.’ And there it was the thrust of the spear. Intended not merely to prick and burst the balloon of my selfness but to destroy it and make me more like her. Did she realise that? As she put her head gently on her pillow in the quiet deadness of her own ‘grown-up’ self, did she wonder if she’d been successful?

On this occasion she failed. Yet there was something calm and yet disturbing in her manner as she looked at me, a glint akin to sharpened daggers in her eyes. And yet there was something in me, flushed, warm and happy with the company of those who’d enjoyed my moment with them, which kept my mind intact. She did not at that time kill but she did plant a seed I think, for I hardly ever after that enjoyed quite as deeply such a spontaneous expression of exuberance.

Dennis Crompton © 1996

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)