Pat's Pride (Thursday, February second, 2006)

The following is a poem I wrote about my mother's ex boyfriend when the family was going through a rough time:


Pat was a man who lived alone,
Pat sweet Pat, nothing he owned,
But his heart was pure,
And his soul great,
Pat would surely hold his place.

We lived with Pat, for not much he owned,
Together we could surely be at home,
Material possessions with us we brought,
This thing called love is what we taught.
A family we became.

But deep inside his pride grew,
"I got these things, for sure not you..."
He lost his love,
Became empty inside,
And little secrets he started to hide.

Pat wanted a cabin,
Out far on an island,
And happily we agreed,
The money we lost was not matter to us,
For Pats pride had started to feed.

Steadily but surely his pride gained mass,
His pure heart had become that of an ass,
Little did he talk,
For he was better,
Only his dog knew the warm hug from his sweater.

We started to plot,
Our lesson untaught,
We would have to teach it again,
A sigh would arise when he came home through the door,
Our love for Pat ceased to grow anymore.

Pat didn't do anything for he lacked money,
Pat started to ask to borrow from honey,
Honey she refused to give,
She had a life she wished to live.

Pat became depressed and stayed at home,
Watching TV and talking on the phone,
On the computer he played solitaire,
On the couch he only lay there,
Pat did not own anything nor do anymore.

Pat grew upset over simple things,
Very little happiness did mean old Pat bring,
We couldn't have it,
We wanted him out,
But grumpy old Pat ignored our shouts.

We came up with a list of the things he'd done wrong,
He hadn't been this cruel all along,
He regarded the list as if it were lies,
His lip had trebled, Old sweet Pat still inside,
But this creature, this thing, had made sure he died.

Pat then grew angry and tried to force jealousy,
"If you don't respect me, then I guess I''ll leave!"
But little we cared, the this creature had gone.
For we knew deep down, that our sweet Pat was gone.

Pat was a man who again lived alone,
Pat sweet Pat, nothing he owned,
But his heart was gone,
And his soul cried,
But Pat didn't care, for he had his pride.