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Shadow Boxer

R. M. Fraser

"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

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  If you would like to share this book with another person,

  please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If

  you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was

  not purchased for your use only, then please return to

  for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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