Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear
And mad old Abraham
That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire
And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity
So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in
For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar
But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?
Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me
Do not visit places where you know you should not be
The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods
My three trees
When I was a young lad, I lived in a jungle
A jungle of concrete and bricks
We had there but few birds, and yards without flowers
At times it did make me so sick
For I loved the forests all filled with lush growth
That I’d seen in the books I had read
And life there in Peckham it did nothing to me
It seemed to be dull, and quite dead.
And yet in our front yard there lived these three trees
And oh, how I loved them, I did
They filled with lush growth in spring and the summer
And then their rich growth it was hid
Until the next spring it would come back to life
And oh, how I loved to see this
When the sun did shine down on this beautiful foliage
My young heart was filled with such bliss.
Then one day in winter my father chopped down
These wonderful trees I did love
I cried, and I cried, and I sent all my anger
It must have reached Heaven above
For when the spring came those stumps they were loaded
With wonderful Foliage again
Those trees they lived on and I was delighted
That my dad tried to kill them in vain.
11 June 2014 @ 1155hrs.
The feather beds are a string of mountains near where I live, famous for its raised bog lands, where my father and his brothers cut turf for many years. In spring / summer a wild cotton flower blooms giving the mountains their name.
In youths embrace I walked in mountains,
My father’s steps I tried to follow.
He led the way from town to wilderness
And there it was my soul he freed.
Windswept hills of raised bog and peregrine,
Swooped winds flared the will of the wisp.
Cotton top flowers waved their white clouds,
Beckoning me, to loose myself in awe.
Slain and sod, man and muscle worked as one,
Bright Heather draped the hills a regal hue.
Bracken fronds greened the soil of spring.
Larks and curlew cries hung upon the air.
As my father shushed us to silence and embrace,
His wonderland of peace.
At seasons turn and Bracken colours fade,
Gorse and heather flair their restful hues.
Sheep saunter through with heads bowed,
They slowly leave the mountain once again.
The feather beds dim as clouds dip low and veil.
And silence flees before winter wind and rain
In adults disgrace I left the mountains,
My father’s steps hard to follow.
Still longing to find the way of wilderness
To free my soul once again and be with him.
I can act insane
But DO NOT
Make me feel worthless
I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation
Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee
I can act like an
Adult, but I’d
Prefer to have joy…
That piles upon us in our
Being childlike is
A rare beauty –
No one prizes it…
No one came across it…
In this lifetime…
I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine
Renew my young heart
Give me the ability
To kill the old man…
I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs
By my future generation
I beg of you –
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy
I’ll still have pieces of a child in me
And pass it on to my future generation…
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.
NATURE’S SINGLE DADS:
THE AUSTRALIAN EMU
The next sixteen months:
CRR-ACK ~ “That’s loud,” he exclaims getting up on his legs, so knobbly and thin.
He looks down to the ground,
where he first heard the sound,
and says, “Now it’s your turn to begin.”
Hours go by, as each little chick tries to break free of its protective cover.
They all work their way,
throughout the long day,
then all greet their father-come-mother.
For his new family he breaks the last shell. To his fluffy striped chicks, he’s their mother.
As they grow older under Dad’s shoulder
he will nurture, each sister and brother.
In time, they will leave his home on the dance floor; a single dad, with chicks he will roam.
With high steps he will prance.
They will learn every dance
for survival, before he goes home.
With the changing seasons, Emund finds reasons to leave his young chicks on their own
Others join with his brood
now there’s plenty of food,
Emund turns and again, he’s alone.
Not taking the chance of being late for the dance Emund picks up his speed on the track.
They won’t meet at his gate
if he gets home too late
to dance to the rhythms of the outback.
The Australian Emu; one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species in the extremes of the outback.
An earthly existence
A universe beyond my minds, comprehension
Life lessons reviewed
I am not lost, after all!
I am a willing participant
Serving, the Father, of all creation
His son combined, ‘producing life’ as we know it
Representing them, in everything I do
I am nothing, without Love!
My heart full of faith, loyal service I give
Learning how to unconditionally serve, as the Father unconditionally, loves me
Worshipping our Divine Creator’s existence
Choosing to live, moment to moment
Being as one with ‘Our Universal Father’
No physical permanency
My physicality, disappearing
My mortality existence, I let go of
My spirit alive!
‘I am only passing through!’
A unique, experience of mortality
A gift, I am blessed to experience, to live!
The autumn leaves crinkle beneath my feet
Their radiant colors dulled
I see the reds and yellows as vibrant as they were
The last time we came here together.
I hold you in my hands,
The way you held me when I was a child.
Your urn jostles softly as I scale the cliff
To our favorite spot.
I open it up, and look at you one last time.
Bits of bone sprinkled in the ash,
Like the time we came here after the first snow fall,
The defiant leaves of abundant autumn
Refusing to be masked by light dusting.
Off the tip of the rock,
I turn the urn,
You flow out over our favorite hike,
As you would have wanted.
We pass through this trail
One last time.
Gloomy nights do mirror the lunar rays
on silent surfaces of glowing lakes
where hidden creatures feed upon berries.
Oh the bushes rumble and leaves tumble.
From them you see hidden eyes that shine lights
so yellow,luminous that fear inspire.
A woman wanders these wild woodlands,
in search of signs and pensive reflections,
which nature shows to her practitioners.
From men she fled to remain a maiden
for her virginity she did esteem.
Her father her wish joyfully did grant,
and in forests to survive taught her how,
and for her he bent a bow as a boon,
to hunt a deer to feed upon so sweet
to sate her hunger and appetite's delight.
The moon upon her triumphs shines bright,
which is her symbol's might and empire.
My father and my mother sat me down one day
to tell me how wonderful that I was growing O.K.
The years passes by as I got to be a teenager
with high hopes of becoming the first young manager
Life turns out a manager job is not for me
so I kept things to a minimum working hard you see
My family had taught me with all do respect
the life we lead is the image of our age in an aspect
Like queens and kings we bow our head
to the people who is wiser in age even when dead
Life as our guide the time we have aged
is what we leave behind that we are gaged
In prospective we are the stars and we are the earth
because we age and leave behind a new birth
To those that seek such blessing of heart
remember this age is respect for living from the start
Do you remember your father, mother, and teachers
they are the ones cheering you on, sitting on those bleachers