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(North Yorkshire)

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Sparing The Rod one i

My father always stood at the thin end of his sarcasm,

A fucking great chasm.

A bare foot from the buckle,
wrapped round his right knuckle,

opposite the sharp end of his thick belt.

Which ofen I felt.

He enjoyed trying to break me.

And he knew that he never actually would.

Today I thank him for helping to season my blood.

I remember he liked Johnny Cash and also Floyd Tillman.

Sometimes he almost seemed human.

If only he could.

But he thought I was a horse to be ridden.

Allong cobble and midden.

Never did he spare his rod.

He believed he could break me.

Wherever he trod.

I walked away at fourteen.

Never to be seen.

Again by him or his God.

Unbroken.

Submitted: Friday, April 19, 2013
Edited: Sunday, April 21, 2013


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Comments about this poem (England by Anthony Di'anno )

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  • Frank James Davis (4/22/2013 10:46:00 AM)

    Do we ever really leave home? Don't we always take our parents with us?
    Work with impact, Anthony.

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  • Victoria Donnelly (4/22/2013 9:59:00 AM)

    You articulate well the parental shortcomings that went far beyond moral discipline.....as the eldest of six I often think I suffered my siblings shortcomings too....a painful read in every sense.

  • David Wood (4/22/2013 6:12:00 AM)

    A great poem Anthony but how sad. Love is the most important thing a parent can give.

  • Babatunde Aremu (4/22/2013 5:04:00 AM)

    Great poem. Thank God for the rod not spared. That's what made you who you're now. Great poem, I like it

  • Paul Brookes (4/21/2013 3:55:00 AM)

    I konw where your coming from, my dad was a bit like that, I left home at 16 never a backward glance; so this poem had resonance with me. I wrote a poem called He Called Father about it take a look if you like. I've just done something I hate other poeple doing recommending thier own poems, so I'll give myself a mental slap on the wrist. Well written thanks for sharing BB : O)

  • Smoky Hoss (4/19/2013 6:04:00 PM)

    Such pathos, and yet power in these fine words.

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