‘I Have my Father’s Voice’-Chris van Wyk (1957-2015)
When I walk into a room
Maturity
where my father has just been
I fill the same spaces he did
Physical similarities
from the elbows on the table
to the head thrown back
Voice of instruction
and when we laugh we aim the guffaw
at the same space in the air.
Reflection
Before anybody has told me this I know
because I see myself through
Life frustrations
my father’s eyes.
When I was a pigeon-toed boy
my father used his voice
to send me to bed
to run and buy the newspaper
to scribble my way through matric.
He also used his voice for harsher things:
to bluster when we made a noise
when the kitchen wasn’t cleaned after supper
when I was out too late.
Late for work, on many mornings,
one sock in hand, its twin
an angry glint in his eye he flings
dirty clothes out of the washing box:
vests, jeans, pants and shirts shouting
anagrams of fee fo fi fum until he is up
to his knees in a stinking heap of laundry.
I have my father’s voice too
And his fuming temper
And I shout as he does.
But I spew the words out
in pairs of alliteration
and an air of assonance.
Everything a poet needs
my father has bequeathed me
except the words.
Title
Title is personal as the speaker expresses his thoughts, feelings and experiences about
his father. Voice = sound/tone (can send different messages)/diction (words of voice)
When I walk into a room sets up connection, relationship, expectation
where my father has just been that he follows in his father’s footsteps (shared
I fill the same spaces he did similarities).
When I walk into a room
Maturity
where my father has just been
I fill the same spaces he did
Physical similarities
from the elbows on the table
to the head thrown back
Voice of instruction
and when we laugh we aim the guffaw
at the same space in the air.
Reflection
Before anybody has told me this I know
because I see myself through
Life frustrations
my father’s eyes.
When I was a pigeon-toed boy
my father used his voice
to send me to bed
to run and buy the newspaper
to scribble my way through matric.
He also used his voice for harsher things:
to bluster when we made a noise
when the kitchen wasn’t cleaned after supper
when I was out too late.
Late for work, on many mornings,
one sock in hand, its twin
an angry glint in his eye he flings
dirty clothes out of the washing box:
vests, jeans, pants and shirts shouting
anagrams of fee fo fi fum until he is up
to his knees in a stinking heap of laundry.
I have my father’s voice too
And his fuming temper
And I shout as he does.
But I spew the words out
in pairs of alliteration
and an air of assonance.
Everything a poet needs
my father has bequeathed me
except the words.
Title
Title is personal as the speaker expresses his thoughts, feelings and experiences about
his father. Voice = sound/tone (can send different messages)/diction (words of voice)
When I walk into a room sets up connection, relationship, expectation
where my father has just been that he follows in his father’s footsteps (shared
I fill the same spaces he did similarities).
