The Woodcutters’ Son

I dedicate this to my eternal friend Jason Brown
.
.
In the Irish town of Donegal, almost thirty years ago;
There lived the lovely Brown family, that many got to know!
The father was a Forester, tending woodlands round the town;
Then on weekends he did gardening, for large houses all around!
.
Every morning before he left for work, he served his dear wife tea in bed;
A ritual that enriched their love, a secret since they had wed!
Besides his wife, his love was aimed, at Jason, his dear son;
And Jason loved his Daddy too, e’er since his life had there begun!
.
When Jason started his school career, the teacher asked each kid;
To stand up and tell their classmates, the work their father did!
When it was his turn Jason rose up, remembering a fairy tale book he had;
Thinking they would not understand a “Forester”, he said “A Woodcutter is my Dad”!
.
In the Summers Jason would wait for him, on a hill above their house;
He’d hear him chatting with George and Willy, such happiness aroused!
They were riding on their bicycles, with laughter and some jokes;
The Lughnasa sunshine reflecting, off their silver spinning spokes!
.
When his Dad came up to greet him, with an effort free embrace;
He’d lift Jason to the saddle, whilst kissing his little face!
The wheels and bike would vibrate, as they descended down stone stairs;
Jasons’ favorite part of their excursion, a loving son and father pair!
.
On Friday, he’d take out all his earnings, placing the envelope in Jasons’ hands;
Then go give it to your Mommy, and say “It’s from her loving man!
In the evening after supper, he’d turn on his radio;
He’d fall asleep so soundly, in the old armchair where he would go!
.
Sometimes before his slumber, he’d take Jason on his knee;
He would pull him close and hug him, Jason’s favorite spot to be!
Oft times while Dad was working, he would commandeer the chair;
Sitting in it for several hours, even though it was threadbare!
.
In Ireland there is a tradition, much like our Halloween;
They call it Oiche Shamhna, many centuries has it seen!
The children all wear costumes, and go begging door to door;
With tunes and verse reciting, the Townfolk them adore!
.
Their main fare was the Bairin Breac, a cake with raisins and some grapes;
Inside were various items, each one predicting someones’ fate!
A ring meant you’d soon be married, a twig telling of its woes;
A coin meant you’d be wealthy, but a cloth you’d wear rags for clothes!
.
Just like us, they bob for apples, mixed with oranges, pears and nuts;
The task is not so easy, and they get soaked right to their butts!
After Jason turned just ten years old, his Father early did retire;
A few days before this Holiday, on a Friday, difficult respire!
.
To Jason this was a blessing, much more time he’d spend with Dad;
Who would never have to work again, as for so long he already had!
But that day he was not feeling well, so to the clinic did he head;
They had a party for him that evening, then exhausted, they went to bed!
.
But just a short time later, his Mother brought him to Fathers’ side;
Draped in heavy woolen blankets, smooth breathing oft denied!
He reached down underneath his bedsheet, and squeezed his Fathers’ foot;
Thinking he’d be better in the morning, everything then be good!
.
They all congregated in the kitchen, as someone went the Doctor bring;
With tears they waited anxiously, but soon their hearts would sting!
She came just after four a.m., and raced up the creaky stairs;
She nodded to them solemnly, when she saw their anxious stares!
.
A few minutes later the floorboards ceased, to make their sullen sounds;
The Doctor slowly came back down, as their hearts were all apound!
The stethoscope hung from her neck, short cropped hair upon her head;
With tear filled eyes, she said to them, “I’m so sorry, but he’s dead”!
.
Those two words tore Jasons’ soul, putting end to his happy world;
Worse, he could not attend the funeral, his Fathers’ flag unfurled!
They told him of the funeral Rites, his Father then interred;
He listened with his broken heart, and eyes so teary blurred!
.
.
Stillness too early
His Father passed away
Then came the silence

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Comments
Hi Larry, you have taken every ounce of Jason's story and made this really beautiful poem, I felt as though I was reading it for the first time, and just as Samhain did when I read it, I welled up with tears. I'm Sure Jason will absolutely love this Larry
This is such a wonderful thing to do.
All my love to you and Linda
Lorna xxx
My Dear Lorna,
As you know, you and Jason have a very special place in my heart. His beautiful story resonated in my soul, because it brought me back to my own Fathers premature death. The love that they shared, was so beautiful, and to read that poor Jason was only ten years old when he lost him, was gut-wrenching. It was my honor to read Jasons words, and recreate them in poetic form. Thank you for all the heart-warming words that you are ever inundating me with.
All our love back to you,
Linda and Larry xxx
Larry, my dear friend...
This is always a sad time of year for me: ever wondering how things may have been different, had things been different.
I wrote Samhain to honour my father and preserve my childhood memories of him. But with this thoughtful, tender and loving ode...you have honoured us both.
For that, I cannot even begin to thank you...or adequately express how deeply you have touched me.
I think you'd have liked my father. I know he would have liked you.
You sir, are the very Heart and Soul of Cosmofunnel. Long may you continue to be...
Horace and Plutrarch
hold guttering candles to
my eternal friend
your eternal friend & fan,
Jason xxx
My Dear Friend Jason,
Your words bring chills to my spine, and tears to my eyes. You have "more than adequately expressed" the depth of your gratitude. It was so interesting, as I read each word you wrote about your Father, I felt the beautiful love you both shared, in every one of them. He was a man with a gentle heart, and loving soul. It pains me that you lost him so early in your life. "had things been different", I can see him on the sidelines of your soccer games, rooting for his dear teenage son. "had things been different", I can see you and him at an Irish pub, on your 18th birthday, sharing a toast. "had things been different", I can see him still sitting in his favorite threadbare chair, with one of his grandchildren upon his knee.
.
Thou art my Father
My love for you ever lasts
In depths of my soul
.
All my love,
Larry xxx
Wow!! This is stunning LARRY!!..... to know Jason so well as to be able to detail the poem with such loving grace is a blessing in and of itself!!.... you have done honor to COSMO as whole with this unbelievably heartfelt write!! It's such a moving piece I find myself with a lack of words to express just how powerful this is!! Suffice it to say, I am very proud of you my friend!! Brilliantly delivered!! tons-O-stars & PINNED for memories sake!!...... high fives dear poet brother!!......LOVE and ROCKETS!!......T xo ?✳✴♥☀?♥?
My Dear Brother Tony,
I have two Brother Poetic Soulmates on Cosmo, that from the first day of coming into contact with, I have felt a portal to their souls; you and Jason. I think that almost two centuries ago, when Alexander Dumas wrote the Three Musketeers, he looked to the future, and saw us. Our bond is unbelievable, and will never be unbreakable. We will ever be "All for one, and one for all". I love you both, for you are the brothers that I never had.
All my love,
Larry xxx