Bull And Bullock

The other night abed, Father,
propped upon an elbow, dropped
and died. Earlier that week, Mother
gave me Anthony to hold when
Father threw a fist, missed

and bellowed through the door.
I did not see the biggest of them
bear him back. But at the wake
they spoke of how he ran,
fell across a fence and swayed there.

I was in another room,
giving Mother Anthony to hold,
and I remember how,
clairvoyantly for once,
she wept there.

by Donal Mahoney

Comments (17)

Smooooooth and lovely descriptives and then the scene darkens when we realize he is mourning
I like in this how Dickens shifts from the eight-syllable rhyming pattern in the first two stanzas to the mostly-five syllable pattern in the third and last stanza—it shows flexibility and suits his purpose. As to the shadows he mentions and the peace he can’t regain, he tantalizes us and leaves it for us to guess. -GK
Such a beautiful poem on nature. But it ended in a sad note. Enjoyed the flow and rhyming. Thanks very much for posting.
Beautiful nature poem with a touch of sadness for a loss that nothing can replace!
A lament for Lucy by a great novelist
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