'Twas our Christmas Eve dinner; we all had sat down
at the table to eat. Grandma couldn’t be found!
We children were fussing; Dad rose to his feet.
shouting, “Where are you, Ma? We’re ready to eat!”
When from the next room we heard such a noise
Jenny squealed, “Santa Claus must have brought toys!”
We then heard a sound like a whimpering pup
saying, “Help. I’ve fallen and cannot get up.”
Grandpa jumped up and then rushed to the door
that led to the bathroom. There on the floor
lay our poor grandma, eyes widened in fear,
looking like she’d got run over by reindeer!
The dresser had fallen. It had her pinned down.
Grandma was wildly flailing around.
More swiftly than Rudolph, we did all we were able.
We unpinned her. Then Mom yelled, “Back to the table!”
Back to the dining room all we kids came
As our mom started to call us by name.
“Davy, Mel, Jenny, Angie, Marie. . .
Get back here now. I’m counting to three!”
Like animals not having eaten all day,
stuck in a cage without getting their way,
we sat at that table our bellies all growling,
and Davy, the baby, by now was howling.
And then finally what did appear?
Dad with our grandpa and grandma so dear!
Supported by both our grandpa and dad,
Grandma was flushed and looking quite bad.
She was dressed in a housecoat trimmed in white lace
and a big purple bruise had now formed on her face.
Mom pulled out a chair helping Grandma to sit,
and then our dad bellowed, “OK, have at it!”
Our mouths how they watered to see the large ham.
“And that isn’t all,” said Mom, “I made lamb!”
Her small pretty mouth was turned up in a grin,
“The food’s getting cold now. Children, dig in.”
Our dad how he laughed as he poured lots of gravy
onto his potatoes and kidded with Davy.
And Grandma sat smiling despite her great fall
while Grandpa gulped spiked nog, not talking at all.
With eyes that seemed bigger than my own belly,
I dished out big spoonfuls of cranberry jelly.
Mom winked and I knew I had nothing to dread.
Her pleasure was in us all being well fed.
I went straight to work at stuffing my face
when suddenly Mom said, “We didn’t say grace!”
We closed our eyes listening to our dad’s prayer.
I peeked but was met by my mom’s warning stare!
Dad finished the prayer with a hearty Amen.
Then we were all grabbing Mom’s fixings again.
When the food had all vanished and our stomachs hurt,
we heard Dad exclaim, “So what’s for dessert?”
For the Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale - Poetry Contest
of Carol Eastman
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
This year we will remember
Happier times in past months of December
This year we will certainly see
A massive void where you used to be
This year we will sit and stare
At that forlorn and empty chair
This year we will sit and reminisce
You are not here for us to hug and kiss
This year we will definitely see
No gift for you under the Christmas tree
This year we will shed a tear
For dad as you are no longer here
This year we will raise a toast
To our dad who we loved the most
This year will be so difficult for us all
It was the year the Lord did my father call
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
Dad I know you would understand
We weren’t there at the last to hold your hand
We had already said our last goodbye
You are now with the angels in the sky
Tribute to my lovely dad who passed away peacefully last night at 7.55pm
RIP Dad we will miss you
21st February 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
You have fought with all your might
Its time to let go of your earthly fight
The angel’s are waiting at heaven’s door
To welcome my father who I adore
Time is running out, it makes me sad
Soon I will lose my lovely dad
I LOVE YOU
9th February 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
A wise man once had told me
as I sat sadly on his knee
Son, don’t be afraid to hug someone
When you get the opportunity
He said life’s too short for shaking hands
and keeping distance there
Just hug someone because you can
To show them that you care.
“You know”, he whispered as he leaned to me
with his eyes so full of love
“my daddy told me when I was small
that they came from God above”.
So he gave me a great big hug and said
how does it make you feel?
I said with giggling laughter
“like a silly circus seal “
Well God he knew, that we would need
Something to touch our heart
When times got tough and we were sad
and needed a new start
So he created hugs to cheer us up
and make us feel brand new
Because no matter who we are
we need to feel loved too
So my son you can shake a hand
and play the average role
Or you can hug a man with open arms
and you’ll have touched his soul
That wise man who so long ago
held me upon his knee
Was the greatest hugger that ever lived
he was my dear ol’ dad you see.
But now he’s gone and I’m feeling sad
Cause I miss him oh so much
The way he kissed and hugged you tight
He had a special touch
So if I had, a single wish
to make this sadness flee
I’d wish a moment with that wise old man
A “one last hug” for me.
Hug Someone Today!
Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo
To my Dad...
If I could travel to and fro
The winds of change would meekly blow
And Heaven's Gate, that opened wide
Would stay shut tight, Dad at my side
Our campfires, when the firelight danced
You'd find me safe,
wrapped in your glance
Upon this path, which trail to take
Close by my side, clear choice you'd make
And when the future seems forlorn
You'll summon Angels, squash the storm
Missteps, success, I know your here
Your steady hand "jamesy!" your cheer!
On down the road, around the bend
I know your there!
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © James Marshall Goff
I love guns and I have plenty.
When Daddy passed he had near twenty
He kept them locked in the safe I built,
Loaded and ready with no blood spilt.
For him a gun was a precision tool,
Not to be handled by just any fool.
He taught us all how to use a gun.
Took us to hunt and we sure had fun.
The day before my Daddy died,
He called us each to his bed side
And gave us guns from his collection.
He knew we needed no direction.
We keep them cleaned and polished each
Remembering his final speech.
"Care for this and when you die,
Give it to your son - please try -
Make sure he knows its proper use.
Take it now - and don't refuse."
Copyright © Ray Dillard
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs
Dad never knew his father. That soldier died in a war.
All Dad heard was brief stories of the man that went before.
Grandma had some pictures and some medals on a wall.
But Dad never knew his father which was what mattered most of all
I’ve done some family history, and seen the ship’s manifest.
I’ve heard again the story of the good ship Lafayette--
How Grandma and her children searched the waves for periscopes,
Knowing that one torpedo could blow away all of their hopes.
This could have been in any war. Soldiers die and families flee.
But this was the family story that was handed down to me.
It started in old England, then to an immigration line:
A 3-year-old at Ellis Island, in July 1939.
They fled their burning country, to be called “war refugees”.
With help from an old uncle and a kind community,
Grandma made a new start here in the land of liberty.
They learned that Grandpa was killed in ‘44 in Italy.
I found online the letter, that my Grandma didn’t see,
About how the Sergeant-Major’s infantry company
Was caught out in the open by Wehrmacht artillery.
The letter said he didn’t suffer. Was he really killed instantly?
I never knew my Grandpa, though I was named after him.
Though I served a different flag, I was a soldier like him.
I’ve seen my father’s scrapbook, and Grandpa’s medals on the wall.
But I never knew my Grandpa which was what mattered most of all.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday
In mind's eye I reminisce, watching children play
of a spring day sitting here, seeing my children play
blessed to see their smiles, when they hit, slid or fell
A happy day begin playing ball, in this story I will tell
A kiss and hug I get, dad please take us to the fair
Seeing the rides, ooh's, awe's echo from our pair
Eating fried dough, peanuts, "Boy! see the games over there"
We're playing with family and friends, as they make a dare
Can't miss any ride that twists, mixes, spins or flys in the air
There's so much to see, ride and play with, in a day at the fair
Hearing "thanks mom and dad" that night, walking to the car
"Stay awake" they say as we move, you know they can't get far
This day all started with thoughts of fun, smiles and laughs
both asleep, with their dreams, today, mom and dad can laugh
Any poem you posted during this month of* APRIL ~except ~ No! No! Bunny poems, or Easter poems..NOR other contest entries.
entered by Tom Larrow
Copyright © Tom Larrow
I have an Angel guiding and watching over me, every day and every night
When I’m alone and sad, I can feel the Angel hugging me tight.
My tears are been wiped away before they can even fall.
If only heaven had a telephone, I would make an everyday call.
My fears have been diminished for He is always at my side.
When I have no one to talk to, He’s the one that I confide.
This was His promise that He had made to me.
That He will always be here for me no matter what may be.
And till this very day, that promise is kept true,
For my Dad is my Guardian Angel still protecting me like He use to do.
Copyright © Sasha Maharaj
By holding his finger i with my little hands learned to walk,
And by repeating after him some heavy words I learned to talk.
Falling several times during walking I with the support of my father tried again and again,
I also remember the moment when he gave me shed during the heavy rain.
When I achieve something great inside him celebrations he makes,
But does and should scold me when I do bad mistakes.
From him I have taken true inspiration,
And being someone like him is not only my dream but also my despiration.
Through him I always find the right way,
" Try to convert your dreams into reality " is the line he always say.
He was the one who held my hand and taught me to write,
So that ahead of me my future is bright,
And he cares for me whether it is day or night.
He always stand alongside me whether I win or lose,
Through him I learned how to the right path choose.
He is the one who stays hungry when I don't eat,
And in the cold he becomes my warmth and gives me heat.
I give my father a tribute from the bottom of my heart,
And I hope that our bonding of love never goes apart.
Copyright © Rachit Bansal
To sit in the confines of knowledge
At a desk the colour of porridge
An air of unescapable heat
At a desk the colour of wheat
The lure of the Mail Online
At a desk the colour of brine
Looking at Jamie Kirby's broken leg
At a desk the colour of regret
Copyright © Tom Hyam
< Coco was his name
Spider monkey all the same
Dad worked for zoo
Feeder of Coco too
Brought the little guy home
Boy did Coco love to rome
Droppings here and there
Mom covered up his dairy - air
Shoulders he did seek
Knocking younger ones off their feet
Bananas and salted nuts
Made Coco dance and strut
Each day a animal of new
Dad brought home from the zoo
But the one I'll remember the most
Was coco who shared my daily toast
Como Park Zoo
St Paul Minnesota
Coco And Daddy
Can You Imagine
A Monkey Playing
With 10 Kids LOL
Copyright © Katherine Stella
Yarns and laughter once flowed through my father’s old chair,
With its smile shaped cushion that’s in need of some repair,
He laughed as he told his stories and reeled us with his charm,
As we wormy wriggled on his words with no fear or alarm.
He smiled with his eyes and blinked as the memories rose,
His tortoise shell glasses were perched wisely upon his nose.
Regal stories of yesteryear when he was in his prime,
For reasons lost or disregarded, now a shadow lost in time.
His smile made us happy as we sat and listened true,
Of friends he met, or grew up with, some we even knew.
Now the chair is silent, though its cushion tries to smile,
I hope to find a shadow there when I check once in a while.
Just memories fill the void where once laughter filled that chair,
With its smile shaped cushion that’s in need of some repair.
18th July 2013
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca
A long time ago we had a pet, his name was Little Bimbo
He came to us all bald and crying, his mother he didn’t know.
Our dad had bought him from some kids, who were trying to kill him to eat.
They had killed his mother before, and now they wanted this baby for meat.
Our dad was a strong sailor and it was before the quarantine laws.
He threw the children money, and grabbed the baby’s paws.
Bimbo came to live with us, he lived inside a fireside oven.
You may think we would eat him, but no. it was the warmth that it did govern.
Bimbo grew and played with us like a little brother or sister.
He would hide inside our jumper, if he didn’t like a strange mister.
One day poor Bimbo trapped his tail, it was really quite a shock.
Especially when the vet said, "The rest of it was also for the chop."
Poor Bimbo was now accident prone, his balance he had lost.
He fell into a thorn bush one day and now his sight was lost.
The vet was upset, but not as much as we were on that day.
Our little pet monkey Bimbo was taken far away.
Our mum tried to pretend he was being looked after. and that he was well
We knew the truth when the vet came round, and returned Bimbo’s little Bell.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl
Never got a chance to say a proper goodbye
Too late now to waste time regretting or muffle a cry
When last we spoke I never saw you again
Just wanted you to know it hadn’t all turned out in vain
Many of the main things in your life became the main things in mine
Kept on pushing with all my strength to the end of the line
Never stood by when someone was kicked around
Always felt one with the poor, the gagged and bound,
Never let the rich guys get a free ride if I could help it
Stopped them and made them feel the pinch if time would permit
Was outraged at bureaucratic bull and complained out loud
I’m not certain but I think you might have been proud
Built up some handy ways for work, destroyed a few useless ways
Helped a few people to live easier, peaceful days
Always used what brains I had, and avoided wasting even a moment
Tried to find useful ways as to how my time was spent
Happiness? Some, sure, but not always, except towards the end.
Regrets? Yes, my damaging mistakes cannot be made to mend.
Copyright © Sidney Beck
Happy birthday Dad
Ever since you left us all in tears,
our hearts ached in grief for years.
Sweet memories of times together,
brush gently as subtle touch of feather !
Longing to touch you and embrace,
while feeling your presence at every place.
Your smiling face in my eyes I embellish,
but wonder why in a blink you vanish?
That in my each cell you are very much alive,
It was too late to realise and end up strife.
Remember the days of joy, None of them so sad,
Today I am wishing you happy birthday dear Dad!
Written November 23rd, 2014
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
A tribute to my dad on his birthday today
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma
Everyday when his dad came home he was waiting there
This was the special time that his dad always had to share
He taught him to throw and to catch how to swing his bat
Every game he played front row is where his dad was at
Started off with tee ball and even then he was a superstar
Not one of the older kids could hit the ball near as far
Then he moved up to softball and what was clear to see
The boy had a natural gift as natural as a gift could be
When he made it to hardball believe these words are true
Matt was one of the best pitchers the world ever knew
Through school and into Collage there never was any doubt
Their best player step up to the plate, Matt would fan them out
Sometimes in life just when we start thinking everything is great
Whether or not we deserve what happens we meet a divesting fate
Matt was out on a Friday night after pitching a picture perfect game
With the stands full of pro scouts promising him a career and life of fame
His fastball clocked at 98 and his control was pinpoint on the spot
After every game he would hug his dad and tell him “Dad thanks a lot”
A drunk driver ran a red light and ended Matt’s career that night
Being left a Paraplegic as it turns out would be Matt’s final plight
A lesser man would have been angry he would wallow in his hate
But that path was not for Matt he just stepped right up to the plate
Became one of the worlds greatest sit down skiers, the first to do a flip
Matt didn’t just come back swinging he was swinging from the hips
You see Matt’s dad didn’t just play with him he taught him the game
He taught him how to fully believe in himself, the W by his name
What Matt learned from Baseball he taught to you know who
Long as you believe in and assert yourself, nothing you can’t do
Written in honor of Matt Oberholtz
who I was fortunate enough to meet
because my friend Nick Jenkins was
his roommate. Want to talk about a
cool guy ice cycles shot out the back
of his water ski. Oddly enough I wrote
Matt's poem for Matt's contest.
Copyright © Michael Jordan
I've heard stories of when I was born
The celebrations that went along
I've seen the love that you taught
You never said it, but you always showed it
The foundation you set in us
The spirit with which you directed us
You never said much
And your presence was always respected
Thank you for believing in me more than anyone else
Am always thankful for your support
Your inspirations still live on
Protecting me all the way through
Copyright © njeri hunjeri
Cancer, I hate you with a deep passion
You took my dad not in a timely fashion
My dad was the backbone of our family
His absence left an aching need cavity
He held our family together with prayer
Away from Satan’s snare and hell’s fire
Then one day he was so terrible sick
We thought this must be a silly trick
The doctor said he had not much time
O no the family thought this is a crime
The best father there was down by cancer
Riding on a black horse this hated lancer
For Michael J. Falotico's contest
Copyright © Joy Wellington
Hidden away by a Mother's love
To the protective torture of the clergy glove
Sentenced to a life of hell
Before life began, the hammer fell
Frightened children, black and white
The dog yard coffin, the dark of night
The stars looked down on naked flesh
Scared eyes looked up through wire mesh
Until the stars could look no more
And the sun, it opened daylights door
The demons woke and walked the halls
The scream of silent “help me” calls
No one hears their silent pain
Or see’s the blood between the grain
A nation’s fear of God above
No one to hold, no one to love
Finally a letter states
We want them home, freedom awaits
But where is heaven, where is hell
Through their fear, they cannot tell
Violence, drink and Daddie’s girl
Wishing she could be a pearl
All safe and snug, within the clam
No one to fear, but who I am
So, who am I and what’s my worth
What’s my purpose, on this earth?
I’m here to live, and one day die.
I am me – myself – Just I
Copyright © Miriam Owens
Chicken, potatoes, and cold pumpkin pies
The food on the table is covered with flies
White ones and red ones and black ones and blue
Just look at that mountain of laundry to do
Dishes and pot lids and pans that are green
Oh, look at this pile of dishes to clean
Here there is carpet but there there is none
I wish that this pile of garbage was done
Smudges on windows and dents in the doors
Remains from the hundreds of food fights and wars
Couches all tattered and furred by the cats
A mound of cracked snow boots and sweaty old hats
Dishes or laundry or piles of goo
I have me a plan and I know what to do
Toss 'em out windows or down the front stairs
I know this is cheating but who really cares?
Out goes the laundry and stashes of junk
From Adam's green apron to gramma's old trunk
There go the dishes all covered in mold
Along with some food that is forty years old
Off with that chair and "The Three Little Pigs"
Things that are broken and "How to Grow Figs."
Off with this junk that my kids left behind
This statue of rocks and a petrified rind
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst
The frightful winter storm is o'er, now all is so serene.
Mellow moonbeams now flood the wondrous wintry scene!
The gaily-festooned sleigh glides silently o'er the pristine snow,
Laden with festive revelers, their ruddy faces all aglow!
The two svelte steeds trot rhythmically o'er snowy hill and dell.
Sweet melodic tunes chime merrily from each tiny harness bell!
Mom keeps hot cider flowing to fill each empty mug.
Recalling days of yore, Dad slyly steals a kiss and hug!
The kids urge Dad to make the horses go a little faster.
"No" says he, "With drifts ahead we'd surely court disaster!"
Candlight welcomes them to Grandma's house just beyond the bend!
Boundless love and a roaring fire await them, on that they can depend!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 8 in Francine Roberts' "A Winter Couplet" Contest - November 2011
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw
my father was never there
he has no love to share
my mother was so strong
teaching me right from wrong
sometimes I sit and cry
asking myself why
he just up and left forever
we didn’t spend a minute together
I still love him to the end
I even wrote a note to send
I hope he read it and learn
that my love is only earned
he will always be my father
even though he didn’t bother
Copyright © Michelle Pryor
You are my Days my glowing bright Daze
You are my Night my shining armored Knight
You are my Son my daily rising Sun
You are my Peace you are the final Piece
Every Day is Father’s Day
Copyright © Warner Baxter
Before I start on my very funny life,
I'll hand over what seems like a very tiny knife.
Here's a little clue,
To guess my age too,
I'm younger than you think,
At the bottom of the age sink,
Family is the starting point,
But I'm the sticking out joint.
Dad, we seldom see,
But he's more like me.
His ambition used to be,
Writing a book while drinking tea,
Mom is more like the master,
Of the household disaster.
She claims that she could have been,
An army captain and a engineer of tin.
We should have been the perfect triangle,
But instead us three made a perfect tangle.
Sis and Little Sis, they matched up,
For they could draw a perfect pup.
Me over here,I just shot out,
I couldn't even draw a single perfect clout.
Instead of entering the artistic home,
I entered Dad's dusty, old tome.
That's right, I was born a bookworm.
That's how it came out during that term.
Now let me introduce them and me.
We weren't that fond of tea.
Sis is the negative of the bunch.
She was famous for her hard punch.
Thinking deep thoughts,
Drawing something other than clots,
Confined mostly in her arcane space,
Not joining the fun race.
Little sis is the perfect mix,
Leaving definitely nothing to fix.
Though younger than me,
She draws everything there is to see.
Me, there's nothing I would tell,
You'll have to guess, looking at this deep, dark well.
Copyright © Sarah P.
I wish the Gods would create a stairway, that would lead me straight to You.
To spend special days like these above the sky so blue
I would do the things we lost out on back when I was just a child
And capture every moment of your ever beautiful smile.
I would write down every moment and new memory that we make.
And read it every time my heart starts to ache.
I’ll never ever get tired of hugging You all day.
As Your arms are my favourite place I wish I could forever stay.
But for now Dad I can just keep wishing and praying that this comes true.
As I cannot wait for the day that I’ll start to spend forever again with You.
Written On Dads Birthday
Copyright © Sasha Maharaj
It may not always seem like it, but I really love my Dad.
At any rate, I was kind of stuck with him, he was the only one I had.
He and I went through some pretty tough times, when my mother screwed around.
We travelled together all over the world, and when we were Canada bound.
He let me smoke cigarettes, he let me drink beer. He made me a rye and coke.
He wonders why Im an alcoholic, he wonders why I smoke.
When we got home he was often alone, he lived by himself in T.O.
Whenever he;d ask for me to come down, I,d jump on the bus and I,d go.
But now that I,m older and I need his shoulder, he seems to think I am to blame.
I was hurt at work, because of some jerk, since then I,ve had crippleing pain.
He,ll die one day, of this I,m sure, I don,t know if I,ll cry.
To say that I won,t miss him, well that would be a lie.
I just pray that I am different, I pray that I,m not like him.
So excuse me while I butt out my cigarrette and finish my tonic and gin.
Copyright © Thomas Plue
Dad Did Die
Why was it really meant to be?
Dad did die serving his country
And me and my family were left alone
Each day when the sun had shone.
I am still so lonely each night
And sad tears off have to fight
Never receiving a one last kiss;
Him forever will always miss.
It is now Memorial Day again;
My dad was one of many mighty men
Who for country had given his all
And for him one day God did call.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Bolivia, NC Name of Father
Arthur Frederick Horn, CPO, AOC, USN
Copyright © James Horn