I have learned to say thanks
... It's free
I can not remember that I sat on your lap when I was little
How delightful it is to have a child on my lap
I can not remember no one hugs
Today I hug you often
You feel discomfort
I have learned to be helpful
... It's free
I learned to tie my shoelaces
.... Where were you
I have learned to be kind
.... It's free
I learned to ride a bike
... Where were you
A sister and a brother
moved many miles from their childhood home
I went to school - I became an adult
.... Where were you
I got my own family
A home created along with my dear husband
... A beautiful child and grandchildren
... Where were you
I taught them to say thank you and share many warm hugs .... love
You need me now, to master your life
.... It's free
I am here for you
I say: "I love you, dear dad"
You say: "Its only fair .... it is your duty"
I give you a hug
... You give me no one back
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
What the Quack!
I dont want my poems in Poem Zoo!
They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A doer of good deeds.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
Believing he saved
From a long, cold walk,
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.
The last time I took Pop to the big lake, the wind was so strong,
it nearly blew his wheelchair over, I knew just where to stop...
at the top of the hill, the windiest place!
I left him alone, he just looked out on the lake unblinking,
rewinding moments, that made him who he was.
In days past.....
He told me the story of his best friend in high-school, who wanted
Dad to go along with him duck-hunting on that sunny, warm morning in fall...
1940, Dad had promised my Mom (not yet married!) he would go with her
on a picnic in the bluffs along the Mississippi.... so he declined.
From sunshine and 70... to freezing white-out conditions up and down the river,
many lives were lost that day, including my Pop's best friend....
the Great Armistice Day Storm lived on in Pop's heart...
Dad went to his friend's funeral.
Or the time.....
Dad took my Grandpa (Mom's Dad) on the first vacation he had
ever been on! Grandpa worked until he died...... the Company
he worked for had tricked him, letting him work 29yrs. 11 months,
and 28 days, then firing him two days before his pension would kick-in.
Pop took him fishin' for the first time in his life! bought him a straw fishin' hat too!
Dad kept baitin' his hook and Grandpa caught 6-fish before Dad could cast a line!....
Pop called him 6-fish Bumford after that! and us kids weren't allowed to touch
Grandpa's straw-hat from that fishin' trip..... Dad kept it on a hook in his work-room
in the basement, with the words "Six Fish Bumford...My Best Friend"
scrawled under it on the wall (I still have it)
In a while, I knew it was time to bring him back......he had finished
looking out on his life....
.......he was ready to go
I am your champion, I fight for your cause,
my love and devotion give some people pause.
When I saw you I knew you, just like with your dad.
I guess our deep happiness makes some people mad.
I work hard at my job, so that we can live,
and hear me now, son, when it's time to give,
I am the one who ups the amount,
I've done this more often than I can recount.
I also work so your dad will be covered,
for doctors and dentists and allergists and others,
and who do you think pushed him to go
to the skin doctor some two years ago?
From the moment I met you, you felt like my son,
but this is a battle that cannot be won.
When your dad and I married, I didn't steal him away,
he's just as devoted to you to this day.
I heard someone had told you that I was "controlling,"
(I can't even write this without my eyes rolling).
Who insisted your dad fly to LA to see you?
Who worked overtime to pay for this venue?
I encourage his freedom, I've not clipped his wings,
his happiness, above all, is the important-est thing.
I will not be silenced, nor be vilified,
and it just breaks my heart when you take HER side.
I am LOVING and GIVING and ALL THAT IS GOOD,
and I'm tired of being so misunderstood.
So, pardon my migraine, it wasn't intended,
my strength just gave out as your judgement descended.
I lost a whole weekend, I slept like the dead,
I was just too defeated to face down my dread.
I kinda' felt reality shatter, unsure what was real,
like in "Jacob's Ladder."
We're getting no younger, your father and I,
the older we get, the faster time flies.
I love you as if you were my own child,
I'll not carry this burden unreconciled.
My younger sibling, I brought you painfully up, you brought me "pain" fully
I myself struggled through constant hard times, your constant struggling with yourself, hard timed me
I cleared a pathway through life for you, you clearly thought the pathways were lined with gold
Today I had to repair, Mums front door, the door you caused to be kicked down yesterday
I love you and will defend you, even when you are wrong, which as you know, you never are
You lost your parents some way back and now it seems you somehow lost your way
I can't believe you did this thing, I can't believe you did
The shame on mum and dad's memory and then you run and hid
You cannot mess with men like this, they follow no set rules
Wealth becomes a god to them, they do not suffer fools
I pulled you from a hole today, I pulled you from a hole
The talk was death to stinking thieves, I saved your very soul
You lost your mum and dad so young, is that why you rebel but life is not a one way street, I lost them both as well
You brought me lots of grief tonight, you brought me lots of grief
I brought you up as many things but one was not a thief
I handed back, the things you took, I gave them all right back
The men who stood at mums front door had shot guns in a sack
The offer that they offered me, was one, to not refuse
Return the goods the "bastard took" or read it in the news
If mum and dad were still alive, for this you would pay dear
If mum and dad were still alive, do I make myself clear
I can't believe you did this thing, I can't believe you did
The shame on mum and dad's memory and then you run and hid
He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms
Along the way you became the son he never had
He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t
You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him
You were there from the beginning
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.
I always thought that I knew love
How intense that feeling could be
But, you were my gift from above
Just exactly what I'd need
I never thought I'd be a mother
I thought that time had past
It was a shock to believe another
For I was pregnant at last
I was 39 at the time
I felt kind of tired and old
My doctor said that I was fine
And a child is precious like gold
It wasnt always very easy
Being pregnant, working each day
Some times I'd get kind of queasy
But, eventually it went away
Tests, ultrasounds, bloodwork , all were fine
An amnio to see if you were okay
Monthly appointments, filled much of my time
Everything was progressing each day
I worked until the day before
Your grandparents flew out to see
I was very ready, couldn't take no more
Wanted my child for just for me
Finally the day had come,when I was to see my son
I got up early, got everything ready, even checked your room.
Slowly I drove to the hospital ,awaiting for the fun
For this was it what I had waited for, i'd see you before noon.
At the hospital they readied me
A Doctor put a catheter in my back
My Mom and Dad rushed up to see
Their grandchild in a wrap
I told them of my nervousness
How I forgot the words to say
So together we as a family
We were able to pray
I had to wait for a long time
Emergency twins were on the way
They said I was next in line
In the holding room was where I stay
So at 930 they brought me in to the room
They draped a sheet in front of my face
I hoped my head wouldn't zoom
I wanted to start this race
At 9:54 you came into my life
Your Dad ran to the end to see
The child that was bore by his wife
We became a family of three
My eyes filled with tears and I felt joy
It was all so new, I never had felt it before
Here's your child, perfect, handsome, and its a boy
For on that day my love for you grew even more
The bond between a mother and son
Is a story that can't be told
To look into your little eyes, I was overcome
My memories of that first time will never get old
So on this day when you had came
Was the best day I could have ever thought
Never mind fortune and fame
To have a child is a lesson in life that can never ever be taught.
On this day, I’m sitting in this empty dome, yet to be filled with graduands, reminiscing
Flipping through the images, of my trajectory, stored in my memory.
I remember back then when dad had no money for my school fees
His job was barely enough to keep food on the table; Mom was the breadwinner.
Dad and mom were always arguing; dad was always on the move
But mom kept breathing down his neck.
Dad was visited by a chronic illness and he embarked on that immortal journey
It seemed like everything had fallen apart, but mom kept grinding to ensure I never lacked; and I kept faith too that everything would be alright.
I started working hard to see my dreams through, with my eyes fixed on my goals.
There are many unending walls to be climbed; and tough rows to hoe
Many demons are out soaking up grease in my engine no matter how greasy I try.
Sometimes things don’t always play out the way we forecast
And we don’t make sense to people who always judge our moves
But everything happens for a reason, sometimes beyond our control
That’s what destiny is all about?
I know I’m befuddling your mind now?
Hush don’t worry too much, rest your brain!
When I see how much I’ve grown and what I’ve learnt
It trips me out, though I lay a guilt trip on myself for my aberrations
The destination is still far away, but surely not a cul-de-sac
I’ll keep my heads up, with dad’s words: never give up on yourself
Now I need a mockingbird to sing for my soul on this day.
Pity her as she cried
On the floor, ragged, she lied
She's covered with odd bruises
And hell things on mind cruises
She was there left alone
Mourning for help at home.
Hungry and parched she was,
Hoping someone would pass
“Click! Click!”, the door knob sounds
At last someone’s around.
Who’s there? Who could that be?
At last! She will be free!
But it widened her eyes
Scared and again she cried
‘Twas a man who appeared
Went to her and she feared.
He touched her hair and said
“Hush! Hush! Just go to bed
Stay quite, don’t be a heck!”
And kissed her on the neck.
Poor girl, she just abide
To the man whom she feared
“Why is he doing this?
I’m his daughter, why’s this?”
In the bedroom they were;
Father started kissing her.
Poor lil girl can’t defy
If she speak up, she’ll die.
“Oh my Lord, please help me,
I can’t take it, save me.”
Said her mind as tears flowed
Grieving in pain; she moaned.
Then suddenly she smiled
From what she heard outside.
A sudden hope in her eyes gleamed
From something she perceived.
She heard her mother’s voice
"I'll be saved" she rejoiced
“A miracle for me
Lord replied to my plea.”
And the door opened
Mother saw what happened
Shocked and startled she was
Then screamed for help, at last!
Mother bellowed and slapped him
Outraged and said to him
“She is your daughter!
Why did you rape her?”
Then neighbors came
Naked -- poor girl was ashamed
Dazed and shaken they were
Staring at poor girl and her father.
Then two cops came along
Grabbed the father for his wrong
He panicked and dreaded
Denied all he acted
Livid and offended
Lil girl stood and stated
“Oh yes, that man raped me,
Not just once but many times.”
Then her father uttered
“My dish is my daughter.
I’m the one who made her,
So I should also taste her.”
Wretched from what she heard
She spoke not a single word
Woeful and quite, she sniveled
Suddenly collapsed and fell
At last poor girl’s now free
From nightmare and agony
Yes she has a father
But she’s his dish not his daughter.
I wander through this house
As silent as a mouse
Though it is my own I feel I've been away
I'm rather speechless, having not much to say
I see my brother working in the shed
Just passing the time as if he's seen red
I see my other brother smoking a cigarette
With no enthusiasm... has he too seen red?
I do my daily routine
Pace, contemplate and clean
Though something is not quite right
This summer day bears no light
I come into the living room
Usually lively... filled with joy
Now it's naked and abandoned
Like a toddlers chest of old toys
But wait... I see Mother on the couch
She's sad with wet crimson face
She doesn't even say hello
Has my coming here been a waste?
"Why are you crying Mother
Have I done something wrong?"
She just sobs and sobs
... a rather disquieting song
My father looks down at her
With a smile
But something about him
Seems quite vile
"I miss him... I miss him so much"
She cries so helplessly
"Who do you miss Mother?
I don't understand what you mean..."
My dad buts in with no consideration
Revealing horrible secrets in such wicked display
"Alright, alright... I confess... I killed him!
But quite you're crying about it, it's better off this way!"
It all comes to me
In such a sudden burst
I feel the intense hatred
So much it hurts
I'm not here... I don't exist... (at least not anymore)
I'm the stranger in the house!
But soon I'll get my revenge
I'll make Father feel as tiny as a mouse!
I know what you've done
I should've known all along
I will tell everyone
And correct this home gone wrong
I'll come to life again! I'l---
Blanket wet... I feel cold...
Why am I laying down? Was all that just a---
"Morning son! I've made you breakfast;
Scrambled eggs and french toast, your favorite!"
Could he really? ... no...
Just a dream...
NOTE: This entire dream actually happened to me. The only thing that was fiction was the part about my dad making me breakfast in the morning.
For Russel Sivey's Dream Contest
03 - 19 - 2013
mom and dad
my all time favorite heroes
who take on the days task
of the everyday running
of running our lovely home
they compliment each other
in everything they do
dad the bread winner
and mom the home maker
and help each other were
the other has failed
they do not show any fear
whether times are good or not
and make things seam all perfect
even when they are not
can not still figure out how
they managed to pull this off
cause my life is not as perfect
as they made our home seam
Love is a season
And holidays mark the seasons, like signs in the road
Reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home...
Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down
It was long past midnight, Christmas eve
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me
It was if they were trying to fill our void with color
The block was filled with a hundred black windows
And the blackness somehow seemed more appropriate
There was no Christmas tree in our house this year
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
had taken all the strength he had...
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together...
It was Perry Como, I think....somehow I remember how he sang "Ava Maria"...
My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week
He had helped bring us a bit of cheer....at least for awhile...
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly...
The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed
I wasn't sleepy....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping,
getting ready for the sun to shine on Christmas morning...
I started to head for bed, but noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box...
The little box that kept the sugar cube house
It was one that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old...
Little sugar cubes stacked into walls and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Ladies' Home Journal....surrounding it with little trees, and
people skating on a mirror for a pond, things we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store
Carefully packed away last year, on Mom's last Christmas....
Throughout the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the
fireplace mantel....as Mom would have done .
When the freckled morning moved into day...
I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me. He had covered me with a warm blanket.
He held me and we cried together.
After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch
from our old evergreen tree.
We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had
But it brought Christmas back to my family...
For Constance La France's contest "Your Saddest Christmas Ever"
In the garage there stands a bench
With many kinds of tools
He organized them tirelessly
For many hours at a time
He had a place for everything
A slot, a circle cut, a drawer
The wood on top had many cuts
From battles and other wars
He kept the bench impeccable
Knew every place his tools should go
Designed his own space and his rules
If you take, you must replace,
It goes where it belongs
In better condition than you got,
These were the words he told
When I was a young lad growing up
There were many things I wanted to do
Like riding a bronco in the rodeo
And growing a Fu Manchu
I guess most boys have a silly wish
I was no exception I had one too
To be allowed to cuss a blue streak
Or at least a bad word or two
But Daddy told me I better not
There would be a high price to pay
So I was limited to the phrase "good grief"
The same line Charlie Brown used to say
Well there was nothing cool about Charlie
Guess Daddy didn't really know about that
But he said if I ever dare swore
I'd get struck with lightning and go splat
One day I was walking up my driveway
Playing catch with no one but me
Bored to tears with nothing cool to do
When I noticed the sky was totally cloud free
What was the chance of a bolt of lightning
Really striking in that painfully described way
If I was ever gonna chance a vulgar tirade
I thought it might as well be today
I started with a whispered swear word
I waited to see if the clouds rolled in
But you know nothing at all happened
Across my face I grew an excited grin
Within minutes there were no more whispers
I was shouting long blue streaks
When behind me I felt my ear twisted
It nearly knocked me off my feet
It was Daddy and he wasn't too happy
He took me into our house ear first
Said we better not do this in the kitchen
Don't want your Mother's dishes to burst
So into the garage he marched me
Daddy took off his long leather belt
Said son, "Have I ever told you what I call this...
It's called LIGHTNING and you're getting dealt!"
I'm on a dusty backroad journey, in the Pearl of Africa;
They don't invest in road repair in the country of Uganda.
It's a pot-holed highway, that seems to go on forever;
We're in a worn out SUV, and our group is crammed together.
Finally, we pull off this road, to a sight I've never seen;
They call it a "Highway Orphanage", truly nothing there is clean.
There's just two broken down huts, and a large field of clay;
And the sun is beating down on us, it's the middle of the day.
The Chief tells us a tragic story, that's repeated almost every week;
How children are abandoned here, to a future that's somewhat bleak.
Mothers of these little children, so very desperate to simply survive;
Travel the long road to Kampala, in hopes of work to keep them alive.
Its here they leave their precious child, and sometimes more than one;
I'm sure they're confused and brokenhearted, when the sad deed is done.
The clothes on these children are old and torn, and many have none at all;
And they aren't left with any toys, there's no games, stuffed pet, or balls.
There seems to be scarce food here, and there's no close running water;
But I'm sure the greatest lack, is these kids don't have a mother or father.
Some of the children sit in the shade, but most are sitting in the field;
For them it's just another mundane day, till I walk over and kneel..
They are just starring at me, I wonder what they could be thinking;
"Who is this large, sweating, white man, with eyes that keep blinking?"
But soon my friendly smiles are returned, and the kids are drawing near;
Within minutes I'm a human jungle gym, and the children have no fears.
What happens next I'll never forget, if I live a hundred years;
Just the very thought of it, brings this grown man to tears.
One of the little climbers, gets real close to me and speaks;
"Are you my Daddy", he whispers, my knees instantly go weak.
A great well of emotion erupts, words still can not describe;
Feelings so overpowering, it was impossible for me to hide.
And one by one the children whispered, those same sad words to me;
Their little mouths would hug my ear, and say "Are you my Daddy?
*On the crossroads out of Kampala, Uganda
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Heart And Soul
it was already dark outside
silence had totally ruined the night
only my lampshade in my room was at my side
trying to comfort me in all my sorrows and trembling fear inside
as soft tick-tocks of the clock were heard
my heartbeat increased its rate
I asked, “Are they reckoning that few time for him has already been left?”
I began to feel, I was already in abyss of despair
the phone had rung for the second time
my mom and aunt once again were at the other end of the line
thunder storms blasted followed by a torrent of rain
when they asked me to talk to my dad to finally say goodbye to him
I tried to talk to him but he could no longer answer me
despite the silence at the other end
I didn’t stop begging him
I cried and cried out so hard
as the darkest moment started creeping through my veins
until my aunt answered the phone in lieu of him
begging me back to let him go, so as to release him from all the pains
to say the word goodbye to my dearest dad
was the hardest thing to do in my whole life
it had totally broken my heart and seemed as if I was losing my mind
so, I kept crying out and begging him to fight
he’s miles away and I couldn’t just reach him out or to be right there on his
I knew he can hear me, so I kept reminding him
about what I’ve promised when I went back home
to spend a short time and took care of him
I’d promised that I’ll fly right back home after my work
to take care of him again and walk him out of the door
together we supposed to walk around our house with his arms on my
my aunt begged me for the last time to finally free him
it was against my will but I decided to do what was best for him
when he was finally gone, I unconsciously screamed
alone in my room miles away from home, I was in deep pain
I felt like I was totally engulfed by the darkest of the night
I rolled my body on bed, crying out loud and hugging my pillows so tight
wishing someone had to put me into trance, so I closed my eyes
while in prayer, I imagined him waving goodbye
as he finally went up there through the brightest light
©2013by Leonora Galinta
Contest: New Poem
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD
Hi Dad, I guess we all will see our time and all will pass
Sometimes I lie awake and cry, longing for another chance
So much I never said, so often I said too much
Once in a while i'll drive by where Grandma's house was
Stop and reminisce awhile
Wonder what Mom's childhood was like in that old farm house
Remember you saying how you loved the place
Talking about how you walked all those miles to see Mom
At night the sounds of crickets and the truck traffic miles away on 54
Fourth of July gathering on the back porch and in the yard, beer on tap
Burnt fingers holding sparklers at night, Grandma's cooking
Old Jack barking and howling, uncles throwing horse shoes
Kids playing baseball in the grass between Grandma's and Chick's place
Did we lose the Utopia we dreamed about, never recognizing it
What I'd give to take you for a ride again, through your old haunts
Caught up in the nostalgia of your childhood and mine.
Times were tougher, times were better, Paradise lost.
You measured riches in family, friends and neighbors
Somewhere, somehow the present generation lost that
Seems as I got older, you got wiser, couldn't see it as a child
Never said I love you, Dad often enough
Never said thank you, Dad for the lessons on life and living
Got to go now, i'll say a prayer for you and mom
Who knows, maybe we'll find that peace within us
That we had growing up and you were here.
I dreamt of my Father whom passed 3 years ago,
as I awoke , he was standing with his beige silk business slacks on
In truth, it may have been not a dream but his ghost telling me something ..
he was a fine looking man and this time with no illness,
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
over 15 years the last time I saw my Father , he called to tell me Grandma passed"
His beautiful Mother, and he wanted me present at her Funeral processions.
I was important to him and my Grandmother , as my children were too.
His heart was broken as we all are not exempt from pain in our lives..
So his presence was much different then the last visit alive.
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
he was here to tell me something
his face beautiful and luminance with a certain serenity
he appeared just before I awoke in full form
The beige pants, nice shoes, Italian, a white shirt underneath that sweater
I remember the sweater being of a fine make, cashmere and purple..
I never wanted my Fathers money when he passed , just a sweater , his scent
being refused to grieve with my siblings and blood , refused any little thing of his
~ yet I remember his sweater ~
I love you too Dad , Your youngest girl.
"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts."
I am your grandmother.
I spent 24 years making
parenting mistakes, so I think
I'm pretty well trained now,
pretty worn down, open-minded
I think we'll be good friends.
At sixteen, your mother
said she was having a baby
and held up to me the blue pastic
device that tested her urine stream
like when she held up the blue ribbon
she won in kindergarten for the best
easter bunny nest made from marshmallows
and dyed yellow coconut.
Then she threw the blue device out
into the space between us on the bed,
like it was the best card in her deck,
her ace in the hole.
Your father waited in the other room
sitting in the thick silence,
afraid to breathe and miss
You and your mother did all the work,
but I was there at your birth,
Standing alongside, coaching your
mother to good contractions until
I was exhausted from gritting my
teeth and pushing too.
And your dad was there, too,
but closer to the business end
so he could be the first to know the sex.
An unsolicited psychic had told us
you would be a girl,
and when your dad was told,
he sulked all day
like it was a conspiracy
between the women to produce
only other woman.
He wanted another guy,
someone to give the men the edge,
a male child.
When your mother's body could
keep you from the world no longer,
your head appeared, eyes tightly
shut and a pout on your lips.
Your dad was watching closely,
the shoulder, the belly and then
his arms flew up in the air
like he'd made the touchdown
and he cried, "It's a Boy,
I told you, I told you,"
like he and I had placed a bet.
But then he saw how much
I could love the boy child.
I'm a pretty good grandmother,
and I think we'll be good friends.
I am his daughter
I am all he has
With a vow to buy the yellow bag
In a car park, he work and work so hard..
Outside a store,
Our eyes goofy wide
As the yellow bag
Gone and bought by someone
My daddy beg but the man who bought
Seem deaf to my daddy's plea
Rather stop for a talk
He pushed hard my daddy's chest
While his wife beat my daddy on his head
Me and the little girl having the yellow bag weep.
But I wept more for I'm seeing daddy
Hurt. Speechless. Helpless.
We went home crying
I hugged my daddy telling him
It's okey if no yellow bag
As long as we are together it's enough
He loves me that much
That when the same little girl
Came and told him
She knows where to find another store selling yellow bag
My daddy go!
Excited that finally
he will buy me that yellow bag.
She volunteered to help my daddy that day
But somehow the cold white dressed ground
Will be the culprit of my daddy's pointed crime
I am at home then
waiting for daddy
to come home
Alone, staring to the clock's running hands
The next day,
The rain pouring hard
Lots of camera clicking
My dad handcuffed by policemen
They are taking him away
That day, our built dreams
are swept away...
I heard all the people shouting.
MY DADDY A BAD MAN..
My daddy whose only love is Me.
In the prison,
they stomped, beat and accused him
Again and again..
But he didn't fight back
He kept silent.
A riot broke in the prison
Almost a man was a struck with a knife
If my daddy didn't come in between
He used himself as a shield
Again an inmate start a fire
My dad regardless of the warden's cruel acts
He run through saving his life
He save twice somebody's life
Yet, still some shout: MY DADDY A BAD MAN.
His death an axe to my heart
His co inmates and the warden filed petitions for my dad
Yet, on his trial the blind justice
Those REAL BAD MAN
Came to knock down my dad
Scaring and threatening him
Telling him lies that they too will kill me
As like his daughter found lifeless
with my daddy before
If he denies the crime
Cause of his incapability
He was accused and abused
My poor angelic daddy
Forced to admit a crime
That never in years he could have done......
I am his daughter
alone and hurt,
yearning for my daddy
but ready to forgive-
only I want
to clean my daddy's name.
Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
I lower my head and pray
Confessing to God
All I have to give
A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Would have a given me a chance
Walls of barriers bearing on us
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.
Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day,
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.
You spot me in the Distance
Start jumping on the spot
For me the view is torture
As I'm waiting for the clock
The seconds take forever
The hands they seem to stop
One thousand thoughts of your smile
Between the tick and the tock
But then I see you running
And I know that it is time
My heart lifts with your laughter
As we hear the hours chime
Can I stay with you forever
With hope across your face
I don't want to live with Mummy
I don't like this place
You tell me all of the things
That make you feel sad
Please don't take me back on Sunday
I don't want a weekend Dad
It’s Christmas Eve and through the house
There creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair
And finds the cookies waiting there.
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.
He gazes with wonder at the tree
And the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
A mystery tale to tell his spouse,
When he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
He has drunk of some spilled over gin,
That had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
He has concocted to amuse her.
She is home-bound, we must excuse her.
He once came home all out of breath
To say he had been scared to death
By a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
“While I was nibbling off some cheese
To bring to you, my love, to please.
He almost had me in his paws.
I’m sure he wasn’t Santa Claus”.
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
And wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
Carrying fruitcake for his wife.
Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
For the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas meal
From food their dad managed to steal.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
And a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn’t like it they’d still taste it.
This food their mamma set before them,
Their dad risked his life to get it for them.
Mom is becoming very tired.
She has trouble remembering
The meds Pop takes—and when.
A lot of good it does to remember.
We have found pills all over
Where he cheeks them and
Blows them around the room.
He is bitter and asks,” Why
Is God doing this to me?”
“I’ve tried to be good and kind.
He called Morris to the room
And asked for the 357,
Knowing he might be the only
One to hear his plea.
Morris denied his wish, and cried.
He called us all one at a time—
And gave us guns from his safe.
Ammunition kept at a distance.
Ralph and I went to the driveway.
“It’s sad,” he said. “Someday
They’ll bulldoze this to the ground.”
“People will forget it was here—
Like we never existed.”
We’ve got to call Hospice,” I said.
Or we’re going to lose them both.”
A final bed.
The decision had been made.
NO SANTA CLAUS?
Brother Billy told him,
“Aint no Santa Claus”
Timmy didn’t want to believe his sibling
Just the very name of Santa was magic –
Those fur-lined endings
The colorful red suit
Splendid black boots
Wide leather belt
And that snowball on top of his hat
“Delivers presents to the world?” scoffed Brother Billy
“Aint no way!”
But Timmy, at Christmas time, didn’t think with his head
Timmy thought with a child’s imagination
And the season gathered his conscious round with colors,
music and sweetness
Mom and, especially, dad didn’t object to Billy’s scolding
“Timmy after all is old enough now” dad advised mom
“I’m never putting on that damn suit again!”
Timmy thought and thought
Couldn’t sleep that Christmas Eve night for thinking
He positioned himself on the seat at the big bay window in
his room wrapped in a blanket knees up to his
shoulders and watched the moon
Watched till his eyelids began to droop
Mom found him asleep around 1:00 a.m.
She and dad had been busy wrapping presents
She lovingly picked him up and put him to bed with
Growl his big stuffed bear
Around 2:30 a.m. – mom had been thinking and thinking
just like Timmy – mom checked to see if dad was asleep
Then! grabbing the jingle bells from under the tree
She climbed the stairs to Timmy’s room opened the door
a crack looked around as though anticipating escape
Then! with a joyful smile shook the bells vigorously!
Well, Pop is resting now.
He didn’t get to go home on Thursday. The Oncologist
wanted him to have either Hospice or Home Health Care.
He wouldn’t sign a release for evaluation for services. Mom
said he was rude to the social worker in charge. I can
imagine. She called last night at 3:00. The nurses said he
was raising hell. He woke up disoriented and wouldn’t take
meds to calm down. He said they were peddling dope. I
asked him what it was and he said methadone. The nurses
laughed a little. I can understand that. He really sounded
like Pa Dillard. Pa was also very confused in the latter
stages. When I got there, he thought Mom and I had locked
him in a room without anything to eat all day. Said he was
starving. Wanted to know why he was in the hospital at
Archer City, of all places. Kept looking for his cap and pants.
Said it was time to go home, to Kamay. He must have
forgotten he had told me earlier they had sold the house
and didn’t have a thing to their name. Still can’t find his
cap. And now he has a trick leg. It won’t mind him. He tries
to get up, at least he wants up, and so I help. He can’t
stand. So he lies back down and tries to make his trick leg
go back to bed. I take care of the leg for him and cover him
up as he is no longer hot, but cold and shaking just a little.
I don’t think Mom will be able to handle him at home.
He has made three references to “taking care of it himself”
and the Dr. asked Mom if there were any guns at home. Oh
hell! Are there any stars in the sky? Mom has the key to the
gun safe. But, does he have another key hidden that she
doesn’t know about? I don’t know, but he can’t get up to get
a gun anyway. I don’t know where we’ll be when you get here.
Call ahead to find out. Love, Dad, Or, brother, as the case may be.
Pop watched some of the Olympics with me last night. It
was the first time he had watched television
in over two months.
He wasn’t refined enough to appreciate the figure
skating, However, liked the speed skating
quite a bit. He said it
was more like track and he liked the Summer Olympics
more than the Winter. He asked me for a
shave and I obliged.
In the past this was always by my suggestion. He’s been
having quite a few visitors and I think he
wants to try to be presentable.
Mom says he embarrasses her when they have company.
He can’t always hear what’s going on in the
other room and calls for her.
“Ruth Ellen, get your ass in here!” is not the proper way
to call for my mother. Ralph E. has already cleaned his
plow about that once before.
I’m not sure how much he’s really aware he’s doing that
sort of thing. I’m sure he’s lonely and stir
crazy and just wants her company
most of the time. Maybe that helps keep his mind off
what’s happening. I’ll call if there’s a change.
Love You Both, DAD
My deplorable emotional collapse.
Lucky for me, she happened to be in her many hour siestas!
My dear sister amelie came over (previously arranged to pick up some rocks that z mama rolled in a pile) and upon opening the front door all internal hell broke loose!
Utter torturous sadness tore thru every fiber of my being - hence a logical explanation conclusion per the abdominal distress that thankfully diminished.
Aside from helplessness as of crumpling like a heap of cards, an extreme fright gripped me at the thought of yourself and shana returning to ramshackle mishmash.
Early today, she many hours sweeping (what her hands formerly hurled from the upstairs bedroom or glass and/or plastic containers blithely tossed on the kitchen floor) with some improvement.
Though, i might need to spend later today (Wednesday) gutting the refrigerator and discarding any potential alien life forms.
A prediction that a. you and shana will be quite sad leaving the tranquil home of the dunning family and b. stepping back into a place where disorder and entropy feast.
Please try to express sentiments per how you feel toward me! Such emotion might well be, but not necessarily limited to (just guessing) -- > anger, grief, hatred, loathing, rage.
Despite your impression or reaction toward and/or against me, i do value you more than any precious gem!
Matthew can honestly claim that "mother" acts considerably more pleasant to me. She politely greets me with what her "GOOD MORNING MISTER HARRIS"!
This message blurted soon after she espies me shuffling to the bathroom tending to that human toy let trees.
This and other of her cheery inquiries for attention (talk, contra dance, back rub...) find me practically catatonic at such ordinary desires.
Years on end never er or rarely found me to experience this personable facet, yet...SHE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH OCTAVIA LAMB NOR GAYLE BAIR!
As (possibly) mentioned in the previous email, i too shared similar antipathy, hostility, offer dollops of voluble vulgarity!
At some juncture in the recent past, a strong objection against reacting in that manner (no matter the three musketeers - as referred to by thee senora and chief television watcher), spoke to this papa in crudely fierce, immeasurably lambasting tone.
Matter of fact, i emailed Octavia to inform her of the legal documents en-route to her home in gap, pennsylvania and reiterated appreciation for our (albeit unwelcome and long overdo) stay at blank greentree lane.
No intent to augment change in the counterpart. We seem to be diverging in any former opinions.
Now, (meaning within the recent present)
numbness freezes and seems to cease up desire to be alive
sometimes i do not care if the grim reaper takes me for an eternal drive
aware that you and shana would be well tended in that busy bee hive
comprising cheerfulness, delight, happiness, liveliness, joy, kindness mirth,
et cetera where amity, comity, energy...does strive
among lovely offspring of shari and Andy, both troopers against challenges
as if...he married a heavenly wive.
Shari and amelie encouraged me to express churning agitation within me
which best be conveyed now rather than per your return,
where communication will be done as ease a lee.
Omg! The hour fast approaches four-ante meridian. Gawd cooks the time away. The task to organize the refrigerator hardly seems like a choice! You may not even notice since, (though the kitchen floor swept) aversion to enter the eatery might deter courage.
Your risk to board a plane considerably less than the hazards that lurk in said innocent locale.
Take care my dear.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was probably twelve when Mr Kimball, who lived across the street, asked me if I had a bike. I said “no”, and he asked if I would like one. The answer was obvious. I followed him to the cellar where, leaning against a wall stood an old Iver Johnson bike frame with two flat tires and no fenders. It was beautiful. Mr. Kimball said if I wanted to fix it up, I could have it.
I wheeled it home, washed it, and painted it black. My dad and I removed the tires to reveal two rotted inner tubes. My dad said I would have to buy new ones and he would help me put them in. It took me two months, working two paper routes to earn the money necessary, but I finally had them. Good to his word, my dad and I put them in and used the old bicycle pump in the basement to inflate them. I cannot tell you the ecstasy and exhilaration I experienced the first time I rode that bike. It had multiple speeds, depending on how fast I could pedal.
I went everywhere on that bike. You seldom saw one without the other. I remember saving enough money to finally buy fenders. The were shiny chrome and I thought they were beautiful. But as is the way with young boys, after having them awhile, I decided to customize them by cutting them down to half size. In my infinite wisdom, it never occurred to me that if I rode it in the rain, when I got where I was going, I would have a streak of mud down the middle of my back. A minor detail.
From time to time, I would fasten a stiff card to the frame so that it would contact the spokes, making a sound not unlike a small motor. Or at least I thought so.
That was so many years ago. Since then I have graduated to cars and have owned many. But I can't think of one that I liked better or that meant more to me then that old second hand bike.