Front Row Seats to a Family Man

Ed: The human spirit is capable of overcoming even the toughest of challenges. And this is exactly what Richard, the author of the "The Family Man" has done, having recently survived a cardiac arrest. In this moving piece of poetry, Richard reflects on the experience and its aftermath, showcasing the resilience and unwavering love of a family man. Get ready to be inspired and moved by this story of hope and triumph!

A lot of people asked for more words after my last poem and I had a low slump on Friday and so I got this together, which is slightly more personal.

Again please go easy on me x

The Family Man

What began. Should never have been. What unfolded, I couldn’t have foreseen.

The performance of a lifetime, a stage now set. This love story unwilling, to forgive or forget.

A tale of murder with no culprit found, a hunt for a killer who’s taken to ground.

Enter our hero, the man with a smile, dancing and laughing all of the while. A jester of sorts with a heart of tin, everyone poised, for the story to begin.

Unknowing to anyone how this plot will twist, like roots in the earth, yanked by a fist.

Roots running deep but anchor no more, a tree unsteady, a fire in its core. Branches are swaying, the earth it does crack, lost are my footings, a balance I lack.

A gasp from the crowd as he tumbles and drops, into the pit where the everything stops. A script on fire, burning all of his plans, cinder and ash, cover his hands.

The curtain has closed the performance no more, a bow to the crowd and out the stage door.

The audience leaves, bowed heads, backs turned. The story so hurtful, all bridges now burned.

A theatre now empty, void of all love, seats all folded, no cheers from above.

All have now gone, but remains just one. A standing ovation from my lady, salvation.

One person left to save this show, raised to her feet and started a glow, a light so pure it burnt through the sky, oh god, not now, I’m not ready to die.

Screaming encore, encore and she prayed for time, scratching, clawing at his final line.

Moving slower and slower the faster she ran, wanting front row tickets, to a family man.

Come back my love and dance once more, this show is yours, I’ll give you the floor.

Sing with me a song of life, I’m by your side, forever your wife. Reach for me, embrace my soul, pulling you from this wretched hole.

Deals are struck and promises made, your heart for mine, deemed the purest of trade.

Haggling, bartering, no more tricks up this sleeve. Begging, pleading, Jesus don’t leave.

Somehow, some way I’m being re cast, The mould now broken, how long will I last?

To the stage once more, I’m starting to dance. But deep down inside there is always the chance, of falling, tumbling being broken again, a prince who was, lost all his reign.

Life hung from a thread, spun so gentle and pure, could easily snap, dragged back to deaths door.

But now I must stand, dance and grin, as this is the part I’ve been re cast in. Inside I cry alone in the woods, people are searching but it’s doing no good.

The show must go on people are waiting,

To see this hero that’s now in the making.

Acting the same, now part of a plan, come take a seat, back to where it began. The curtain will rise and out I will walk, a new script in hand, new words I will talk.

Here is a gift, I’ll give you all that can,

This is front row tickets, to a family man.

Richard Yeowart Moore

I’m a father of 2 boys, suffered a heart attack followed by cardiac arrest whilst running the Blackpool Marathon at the age of 40.