December 4th, 2008
Link • Audio, Poems • 64 Comments
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Brian Trimboli
THINGS MY SON SHOULD KNOW AFTER I’VE DIED
I was young once. I dug holes
near a canal and almost drowned.
I filled notebooks with words
as carefully as a hunter loads his shotgun.
I had a father also, and I came second to an addiction.
I spent a summer swallowing seeds
and nothing ever grew in my stomach.
Every woman I kissed,
I kissed as if I loved her.
My left and right hands were rivals.
After I hit puberty, I was kicked out of my parents’ house
at least twice a year. No matter when you receive this
there was music playing now.
Your grandfather isn’t
my father. I chose to do something with my life
that I knew I could fail at.
I spent my whole life walking
and hid such colorful wings.
–from Rattle #29, Summer 2008
[...] to Brian Trimboli and Bruce Cohen — their poems “Things My Son Should Have Known Before He Died” and “The Jerry Lewis Telethon,” respectively, have been nominated for the [...]
[...] to Brian Trimboli and Bruce Cohen — their poems “Things My Son Should Have Known Before He Died” and “The Jerry Lewis Telethon,” respectively, have been nominated for the [...]
your son ought to express a great deal of pride for being your son when receiving such a revealing poem about his father. KUDOS my dear sir.
“I spent my whole life walking and hid such colorful wings.” is a fantastic line.
This is beautiful. From the beginning to the end, it’s amazing.
Your son should genuinely be so proud to have you as his father.
amazing
made me smile
Gave me shudders… I never get those.
That was Brilliant!!!
That was great. Very well done. I don’t even know you and it was truly moving. Hats off to you.
that was touching man
Sappy Sappy Sappy……. you people can`t be serious.
that was simply beautiful. I sent it to my son.
“Every woman I kissed,
I kissed as if I loved her.”
This is potent and powerful. Must your son wait until your death to learn these things?
Beautiful.
Wish I knew you…
Your son should receive this before you die!
Absolutely.
[...] three days after “Death and Tacos” went viral, so did Brian Trimboli’s “Things My Son Should Know After I’ve Died.” Thanks to the pair, we’ve been cruising along at 10,000 visitors a day and pushing [...]
I wish I were your son.
I wish I were male so I could be your son.
Tired, dull, and sentimental is no way to go through life, son. And it never makes for good poetry. Just because you’ve slowed down long enough to put an overworn series of thoughts into your own words doesn’t mean it’s any good. Valuable to you and your kid, no doubt (and I give you props on that), but trite and cloying for the general population–except for those who are aching to have their own kids and have similarly predictable feelings and write similarly dull lines.
No offense.
I wish I knew you.
100% chance that many fathers will ask this to be read to their sons, postmortem.
Indeed a beautiful thing…. made me write a letter to a hypothetical daughter myself… (i’m still a college student)…. i wish she’ll like it as much as the lucky kid who’ll keep this note of your’s with him till the grave….
i cried when i read this, and the music played on….
wept, actually.
i am readying for a ceremony where i will finally bury my father and i hear through the place in my belly closest to where your words hit the voice of your soul. thank you for caring so much about your son, my son, all sons that you would share this miracle. i am grateful and awestruck.
i wish i didn’t know you.
A lovely mix from a broken mirror. Very potent.
Difficult to know what to say, what to serve behind.
Nothing beats personal contact, an opening of feelings and a hug.
The meaning re time links of your ‘No matter when you receive this/ there was music playing now’ escapes me. But then who really can understand another through the meager morsels of words?
Nice one!
I feel sorry for the son. This poem is worthless. Let me throw random sentences onto a page and then mix up some syntax. Yay poetry. Rambling is not poetry.
your beautiful words seems to belong together in these sentences and that, my friends, is poetry. Bravo!
So sad that some people reject poetry simply on the basis that it IS poetry … yes, I’m talking to you, Publius.
this is beautiful.
Beautiful
I thought this poem/letter to your son was very touching. You write very well. What saddens me, however, is the comments from “Uisgea,” and “Publius.” Perhaps it is because these two people do not know how it feels to love someone, or to be loved by a father or anyone else. I hope you do not allow these two who lack emotion curtail your future writings.
God Bless
I think there is something powerful in that “My left and my right hand were rivals” is placed where it is. Something about tenderness and self-conflict and the consequences of being alive and young.
i totally agree with uisgea. this isn’t THE SHIT, this is just plain (…)
absolutely beautiful…all our sons and daughters should know us so well…not the stuff they think they see and know, but the things we own in our hearts
I think its sad that you never learned to fly,but the poem is wonderful. Hopefully your son will learn to fly and not walk all his life.
Stumbled Upon this poem… very nice. Makes me want start writing again… thanks
This was positively beautiful.
It gave me goosebumps.
Powerful, raw, and potent. Please continue writing. You have a wonderful gift.
Doesn’t even rhyme.
Good work. Didn’t really like the cliche’ at the end but it looks like your audience really digs them (typical of net poetry, sadly.) Would be interested to see more. Also, Publius is an idiot.
What if his son googles him and finds this poem?
has anyone read Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close??
This is clearly photoshopped. I can tell by the pixels.
[...] Obama with a lightsaber then I don’t particularly care about “101 Zen Stories” or “Things My Son Should Know After I’ve Died” Make no mistake I am not belittling the StumbleUpon experience since on average I can view [...]
[...] Obama with a lightsaber then I don’t particularly care about “101 Zen Stories” or “Things My Son Should Know After I’ve Died” Make no mistake I am not belittling the StumbleUpon experience since on average I can view [...]
Uisgea, Publius, Jyrk…all the detractors with nothing good to say–where are your poems? Why aren’t you publishing your work somewhere where others can read and judge?
It’s easy to criticize, and incredibly hard to put yourself out there by creating something for all the world to see. It’s also easy to know when those who can’t create wish they could.
Whatever man!you are not saying anything new … come on..
your last line is pretentious in context, it belongs in a different poem where it could afford some meaning instead of just wah
thank you for having a comment box
remember everyone,
the internet needs your input
dude, i wish i knew you… kind of.
Does anyone know where that place is to buy books? It’s my first time here and I’m lost. I think it’s in South America. Or it’s named after something there at least. I would just fly around and find it, but you see I’m in a net. I’m just a little confused, but it’s my first time like I said, I’m a virgin to this net…THE net.
LOVELY
Beautiful poem
Absolutely fantastic write my friend. You spoke truth in a way that has to be admired.
Beautiful.
Your words are touching, friend, and I feel as if we shared a soulful moment.
Peace to you.
Kistra
PS: Amusing that such sentiment can evoke staunch, critical thought in others who fail to understand.
Andrew and I agree it’s creepy hearing your voice.
why when you die?talk to him n let him know you for himself.
( I’ve missed something haven’t I? )
you’re incredible.
always have been.
Your thong is hanging out.
[...] “Things My Son Should Know After I’ve Died” by Brian Trimboli (69,999) [...]
Bless you brother.
It seems that we are all acrobats, balancing on the edges of the rope.
Great poem, i can’t wait to have a son of my own
Brian Trimboli is concise…
The Author’s brief lines contain much content of life.
Especially, “The Grandfather”
Time extracted a genuine man.
The “colorful wings” Wonderful analogy