Conor Clooney (pictured) is one of Kingston University's Poetry Now students. Here is a recent sonnet of his, written for my class. I find it very moving, and adept.
My
Father’s Tattoos
I remember looking at your tattoos.
When I was a child I’d stare for hours
Hoping that one day I’d be just like you;
Smelling of ciggys and whisky sours.
You’d come home late with swallows on your hands
And women on your arms. My name branded
On your bicep. I cannot understand
Why it is there and you’re not here. Stranded
In the flat, I wait for you to come home
And kiss me and play with me in the dark,
But you don’t and now you’ll never know
That I wanted you tattooed on my heart.
So now I see that like you they lose their colour
And I should’ve tried to be more like my mother.
When I was a child I’d stare for hours
Hoping that one day I’d be just like you;
Smelling of ciggys and whisky sours.
You’d come home late with swallows on your hands
And women on your arms. My name branded
On your bicep. I cannot understand
Why it is there and you’re not here. Stranded
In the flat, I wait for you to come home
And kiss me and play with me in the dark,
But you don’t and now you’ll never know
That I wanted you tattooed on my heart.
So now I see that like you they lose their colour
And I should’ve tried to be more like my mother.
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