Poetry

Poem: The Freak

Previously posted on Pencliff.

 

My father

bought me

an accordion

when I was a kid.

He said

it would help

my asthma,

pushing

the bellows

in and out

over again.

But I knew better,

it was only a ruse.

My old man wanted me

to play polka music

to impress his corny friends.

The Beer Barrel Polka.

The Pennsylvania Polka.

To play in a Mummers’s Day parade.

I’m really a freak,

a grungy beatnik,

I told my dad flat out.

Just get me an electric guitar

and a great big amp

so I can crank up the music

and play in a heavy metal band.

©️mft

Freelance writer, poet, yogi and photographer from Santa Barbara, California. I write and take pictures about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching years in California. The things that move me may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry, pictures and stories resonate with you.

9 comments on “Poem: The Freak

  1. I read this, then read it again and again – it’s very simple but also full of meaning. Maybe that’s just because I never understood things worked with my father or my kids. 🙂

    • Me either. I’m still trying to figure it all out. I guess it’s like putting a puzzle together. I enjoyed your comment. 🙂

  2. Beautifully expressed with direct words. You are a very talented poet that can even reach people not used to reading poetry because of your directness. Loved it! Photo combines perfectly.

  3. I really enjoyed reading this poem….expressed beautifully

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: