Real Man

Status: Finished

Real Man

Status: Finished

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Real Man

Poem by: bobthebuilder

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

This is my first time sharing anything like this. Just looking back on my life, thinking about some of the things that make me who I am. Let me know what you think!

Summary

This is my first time sharing anything like this. Just looking back on my life, thinking about some of the things that make me who I am. Let me know what you think!

Content

Submitted: October 21, 2011

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Content

Submitted: October 21, 2011

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I am a real man.

Fish fear me.

I clean, do laundry,  vacuum,  make the beds.

I am master of the BBQ.

I drive a truck with big tires.

I use tools, and think tools that are loud and make lots of sparks are really cool.

 

I am a real man.

I live in a house that I built, for the wife and son that I love.

All around me I see, wrough in wood and glass, tile and stone, drywall and plaster,

that which was once only ephemera and smoke and thoughts,

forged and fitted by flesh and blood,

become doors that open to friends and family,

walls that shelter and protect

the lives and hopes and dreams of my little clan.

 

I am a real man.

I sometimes cry at movies.

I cried when I saw my wife-to-be walk down the isle.

I cried when I learned she was going to be a mother.

I cried harder as I watched as my daughter took her last breath,

 only days from her first.

I cried when I held my son for the first time,

and am amazed  that tears can flow as I smile so hard it hurts.

 

I am a real man.

I am a mystery,  a riddle,  a conundrum, an enigma.

There is always more that I can learn about myself.

 

I am a real man.

I've helped bring people back from the brink of death.

I've held vigil with families as they have ushered loved ones off this earthly plane,

to the mysteries beyond.

I've absorbed hysteria, anger, fear, anxiety, overwhelming grief, stood solid and erect, like a real man,

only to collapse into my car at the end of my shift,

and scream until my throat bled.

 

I am a real man.

I've done things that have made me proud,

and things that I am ashamed of.

Too many of the last.

Not enough of the first.

 

I am a real man.

I've gone to bed tired, sore, disgusted, bruised and beaten,

and woke up eager to do it all again.

I live each day with hope for the future,

striving to do better, be more, smile often,

practice random acts of kindness, listen to others,

love with enthusiasm and without condition.

 

I am a real man.

I have limitations.

I bleed, I can break, and have done both.

I have fallen, but have always gotten back up.

I have tried and achieved,

and I have tried and failed.

I learned that falling hurts, and losing sucks.

I tell myself that failing just teaches me how not to succeed,

and try to learn from my mistakes.

I make mistakes.

 

I am a real man.

I thank God for the time I've had,

and pray that He grants me more.

More time to do the things I want to do,

see the things I want to see,

be the person I know I can be.

I ask for His help to do these things I know I cannot do by myself.

To be a real man.


© Copyright 2016 bobthebuilder. All rights reserved.

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