Poetry In The Mirror

edited by Paul Cummins

ADVICE
   Almost 32 years ago (November 18, 1967), I had a poem published in The New Republic. It was definitely “a 60s poem,” but I still have a fond feeling for it, because I think it captures something of the tensions between older and younger generations, with the older generation often focusing upon annoying sand superficial forms of the young rather than the depth of their content. I remember showing this poem to my older headmaster (I was a 30-year-old English teacher at the time). He looked at it, handed it back without comment, and told me the English faculty was not washing their coffee cups properly...So here is that poem. 
Paul Cummins

Advice
Oh Father, my Father, 
Oh what must I do?
They’re burning our streets
and beating me blue. 
“Listen, my son, 
I’ll tell you the truth; 
Get a close haircut
and spot-shine your shoes. 

Oh Mother, my Mother,
my confusions remove
I long to embrace her
whose hair is so smooth. 
“Now listen my son, 
although you’re confused,
Cut your hair close
and shine all your shoes.”

Oh Teacher, my teacher,
your life with me share
What books ought I read?
What thoughts do I dare?
“Oh Student, my student,
of dissent you beware
Shine those dull shoes
and cut short your hair.”

Oh Preacher, my preacher,
does God really care?
Are all races equal? 
Are laws just and fair?
“Boy -- here’s the answer,
no need to despair.
Shine those new shoes
and cut short that hair.”


   Ed note: Meticulous readers will note that the foregoing ran two weeks ago. It did, but without the name of this feature’s editor, Paul Cummins, who, as it happens, also wrote the poem, so we’re running it again -- with the proper attributions. Besides, it’s not a bad thing to have a second look at a poem.