"In this series of poems, SHADOW BOXER, R.M. Fraser pays
homage to and comes to terms with family…All the grace and grain,
the pride and practice, the fear and frustration as well as the hope
and love are here. As progeny to culturally Deaf parents, he understands
that they were able to transcend many of the deficits society foists upon
people they deem handicapped. Sometimes in prose, sometimes in rhyme,
but consistently with the desire to comprehend and reconcile the arithmetic
of kinship and the multiplication of wounds...Fraser moves steadily to a
comprehension that we all do the best we can with the abilities given us
at birth and the limitations imposed upon us by a society rife with indolence.
His is an understanding that while one cannot really go home again,
home follows us wherever we may be."
-- Kathleen Niles,
The Comstock Review
Shadow Boxer
and other poems
by R. M. Fraser
Copyright 2011 R. M. Fraser
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Table of Contents
Shadow Boxer
Pride
Grandfather
Reflection (Part One)
Execution at the Castle
Unconditional
Once Upon a Victim
Soul Mates
Reflection (Part Two)
Coming Home
Social Outcast
Infinitely Hidden
Say What You Want
Share the Moonlight With Me
Ebb and Flow With the Lake of the Devil
The Saddest Man in the World (Part One)
Some Time to Myself
The Day Grief Died in the Sky
Dreams
Forgotten Destination
The Saddest Man in the World (Part Two)
Crimson
Carry Me Home
About the Author
A very special thanks to Ryan Ellis for allowing me to use his
artwork in "Some Time to Myself". His website is coming, but
in the meantime, Ryan can be reached at
[email protected] Shadow Boxer
Looking out that window
At the yard
The field of long grass beyond
And the forest engulfing all
An old man sits
On his living room throne
Watching the snowy antenna tv
Filling the room with his Chesterfield smoke
The middle-aged man watches
Along with the old
At a boxing match
Of two lightweights colliding
The sounds of running water
Clanging dishes, pots, and pans
Footsteps of an old woman down the hall
Cleaning up the boys’ breakfast mess
A small lad I am
Now looking away from that window
Watching the smoke swim
In the sun’s rays coming through
Creating a monstrous villain I must destroy
I throw fists as the on-screen warriors do
When the cigarette is finally put out, I win
Becoming a man among the two in the room.
Pride
Nearing three years to the day
It's the first I’ve written
Of anything at all
Let alone you.
There aren’t spoken words
Of any brand or kind
That would do justice
To what you meant to me.
Thoughts in sign
Expressing every detail
Are what you deserve
But I just can’t find them.
So for now this is it
It's not for you, but for me
To remind me, to inspire me
To keep me from straying.
You were the definition of pride
Like an emblazoned ‘S’ on Superman’s chest
Yours was a ‘D’, however, and more importantly
It stood for something real.
When I was young, your pride
Was loud and on fire
And when served frustration it
Created anger and fits of undeniable rage.
It scared me so much
That I cowered to everything
Still to this day I undo those knots
Twisted in my gut, one slow pull at a time.
I had no idea why you acted that way
And my fear one day turned to protection
Of our frail one, for your ire boiled over
I know you remember my standing up to you.
That day changed everything, it impacted on you
I saw the anger slowly fade
Until it dissipated into the air and vaporized completely
Years upon years, until there was no more.
I don’t know what you thought
But I saw what you did
A complete and total left-hand turn
To a content and quiet pride.
Now I’ve learned why you were so angry
I see it in their faces every day
But it’s your quiet pride I show them
To spare them some inner torment.
How much it will spare them I am cynical of
For the cause of your rage is still out there today
Blindly preying on its victims and setting them afire
I hope what I give them are candles, to help control those flames.
The only way I see fit to honor your legacy
Surprise! You did leave one for me
The desire to empower them all as it empowers me
For the more I age, the more like you I am on the inside, and like them, too.
Identity crisis, among other things
You’ve left me to ponder
I wouldn’t trade any away
Because it’s here I find pride.
My quiet candle-flame of pride
Controlled by me, to set fires within, when necessary
In hopes they will see
The way I think you did, the way I aspire to be.
Thanks to you, father
Nearing three years to the day
That you will have been taken from me without consent
It cannot be for nothing, you’ve no idea what you’ve meant.
With my I-L-Y hand on my heart
How I keep the candle’s flame
Lit under your quiet pride.
In honor of my father, who passed away in 2008.
‘Pride’ was written in January of 2011.
Grandfather
For 15 years I loathed the man
Who was mine to call “Grandfather”.
For reasons unknown
I could not recognize the tone
He carried that made our time grim
And during those days
I would wish the man away
To harsh worlds fit to deserve him.
All others held high in his grace
While mine were the black sheep – out of place
I fought with him tooth and nail
Overflowi
ng with opinions
The Dark Army oozing with his minions
Pointing to oceans he thought I should sail.
But by some ironic, weird twist of fate
All those years the hatred had consistently grate
Were slowly buried by the new man in his place
He learned he would die sooner than planned
An unfortunate way to cause change in a man
Nevertheless, a new spirit would occupy this space.
Blackened from whatever had forever resided within
Was grudgingly giving way to light ever so dim
Soon had let more and more in at ludicrous pace
A spark of core heated, soon coming to a boil
Ending years upon years of tumultuous toil
We felt his love for us, we were held in his grace.
Fumbling with reasons for this new-found affection
Theories of maddening pleas for redemption
That somehow would bring him what he dreamed of
Perhaps an eternity of love, never-ending bliss
Though much of my life a grandfather I missed
I finally realized what this man was made of.
My cynicism gave way to true understanding
His feelings were genuine, no way was he pandering
To the One, who held judgment over this man
His questions sincere, not biting nor profound
Eventually even let me know he was truly proud
To see his grandson become a man.
Just when things were finally good
Fate took him as to anything it would
Irony played the most morbid hand it could offer
It took the man away
The one I wanted to stay
The man I know as “Grandfather”.
Reflection
(Part One)
Someone has scars across the long arms
Its fingers left marks on the legs
Somewhere there’s a man with no place to live
For food and spare change he begs.
Someplace she cries with the wail of the sirens
For another who is now gone away
Her daughter takes time to share in the grief
With the mom who had no chance to say.
On a lake there’s a boat with a man and his son
Fishing for some time to bond
She tips, boy can’t swim, there’s no life coat on him
He’ll rue the day out on the pond.
On the shore sits a man, thinking of the young girl
His sister, who kept their mom sane
Looks down at his arms, the scars for his brother
And his father, who left them in shame.
Execution at the Castle
Held out for all to see
The hair tangled and matted
Caught in his iron fist
The red pool growing on the deck.
Walking from one side to the other
He raises him high
As a warning to all
Who dare to defy.
Walking back to center stage
The post awaits its treasured award
He places the trophy for all to gaze
Towering above the courtyard floor.
“Here is where all shall see
That he who