O' middle child, dear son of mine, you have always let the others shine
All through the years, you have stood behind
---I want to say, I've noticed you
Your sister's charms, of course, we knew...
And your brother's skills were multitude
But, my quiet child, though your words were few
---I want to say I've noticed you
While people cheered, and guitars were played,
as your siblings sang upon the stage
You cheered them on with no restraint
---but, I want to say I've noticed you
Such wit and charm, a heart of gold,
More generous soul, I've never known
A shoulder you will always lend
---a brother, friend until the end
I love you all, .....of course I do
I have watched you grow, each one of you
My quiet child, you are still the same
---you'll step aside from all acclaim
As parents now, all three of you
I am proud beyond the words I hold
My middle child, I hope you know,
while you've always been a one to sow
a quiet gift to all you've known
---I want to say I've noticed you........
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
I am the Preacher's son
who stole the bread
and broke it with a wrinkled face,
the essence weaving behind her retinas.
When I stole from the church,
Mrs. Worther 'the bird', had spied me
sneaking out the vestibule door,
from her usual early service perch
in the very back pew.
She carried this secret for many years,
including when she caught me eavesdropping
on midweek board meetings
from behind crates of cheap wine.
Instead of showing scorn,
she had given me a warm wink,
offering a lesson
by leaving me there to think.
who had been my Sunday school teacher,
had made me study the lessons
without ever becoming a preacher --
when it came to my thievery
and excursions into the park,
where I broke the bread
with a wrinkled face,
the essence shimmering behind her retinas.
I am the Preacher's son,
who instead found the presence
amongst ducks and swans,
when I broke the bread
with that crazy old lady -
gleaned what I needed to do,
and since then,
have never again
sat in another pious pew.
I am the 'bad' Preacher's son.
Some people whisper righteously
how I have come undone,
made a pact with the dark,
while I break the bread
with that age-old essence in the park.
March 24th, 2014
(originally written: March 24th, 2010)
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2014
It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids, even after a hard day at work...
baseball games in the big front yard...
cheering them on...
not getting angry when the youngest son
knocked a homer
straight through the living room window
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
He poked his head
betwix mine write
for the likes of I
to address his query;
"Do I blend in
do my words
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2010
A mother gazes at a painting from decades ago
a bitter sweet reminder of beautiful memories
Remembering her child splashing in the water
but so distant in his own world - lost at sea
Maybe those were the signs - that they failed to see
Recalling the day he walked away to chase his dream
leaving with so much acrimony - words piercing the heart
Was it something she did? Was it something she said?
Did he get too much attention or did he feel neglected?
Her heart is crying for you - do you feel her tears?
Her tongue is calling your name - do you hear her?
Your mother is in pain - come and heal her
Your mother is suffocating - breathe oxygen into her
Your mother prepared a painting, but the image is blank
she can picture your brown eyes and your smile - but it's unclear
How your mother longs to see your face - to hear your voice
Age is catching up on her - don't leave it too late
Since your departure it feels like she has painted only in achromatic
so forlorn - missing you like a brush without its palette
when a painter has lost her heart - how can she paint a pretty picture?
The Silent One
10 November 2015
Oil Paintings 1-2-3 any Poem form - Poetry Contest by Eve Roper
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
The rose colour of your mouth
stirs something primordial inside of me –
I smile along with you.
Plump little hands reach for my face.
I hold still
while you explore my heart with a feathery touch.
When you are asleep,
I look over the papers of your college fund.
We could make it
if we would forsake frivolities.
It will be no hardship for me to do so.
I smile contentedly.
The boxer puppy lying at my feet;
its stomach pink and extended:
he ate too greedily
You will grow up together
and share our unconditional love.
The cricket bat,
signed by the national team,
takes pride of place in its brackets on your bedroom wall –
a pale dove blue
(matching the colour of your eyes).
A gift from your dad –
sure that you would follow in his footsteps.
A rainbow of possibilities prostrate at your feet.
I check every now and again
whether you are breathing.
neither a frown upon your smooth face,
nor a care in the world.
Your long, black eyelashes quiver slightly,
as though following a dream –
a dream we all shared:
a dream of boundless expectations …
Exhuming long forgotten memories;
mingling with my fevered tears –
echoing my breaking heart.
They lead you away.
Assaulting the arresting officer
had sealed your fate.
best laid to rest
together with the memories of you.
The sky has lost its colour,
as I step outside the courtroom.
Closer By Chris Aechtner
“If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations”
3 July 2013
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name Referential
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Oh the choices, the choices we make
Oh the choice, the choice I made
A choice which on that night
I did not know was a choice
I know now...
We exchanged words
Harsh words over nothing, nothing at all
Childish words over petty differences
Angry words which are critical
so critical now to recall and to relive
over and over again…
You were ready to drop the matter
You were ready to relent and apologize
I was not ready to drop the matter
I was not ready to relent and apologize
You were the adult, I was the child
I reversed the roles, you reversed them back
You wanted to relent. I refused to relent
I refused and let you walk out that door
Yes, I let you walk out that door
That front door, the door to forever
the last time I didn't talk to you
the last time I didn't say I love you
the last time I saw you
the last time I saw you alive…
Submitted for: ‘The Choices We Make in Life’ contest sponsored by Edward Ebbs
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015
You struggled Screaming
Fighting that creature
Sleep But I managed to rock you
Off into calm and bliss
And peace And as I wrote Looking over
Every once and again
To see you embraced Enveloped in dream
You woke and looked at me.
"Hush." I whispered. "Daddy is right here... Beside you."
You smiled acknowledgement Falling back
Into that place I am not allowed
And I cried Not full of envy
But satiated in unconditional
Love Love for all that
Light and hope you fill
My humble chest with
I cried because before you smiled
Before you fell Back to sleep
I felt the glory it is
To be a parent...
Copyright © Joseph Granda-Padron | Year Posted 2016
How far can you fall and get back up
How high can you jump
And keep your feet in the sand
To touch grace and fall from within
Next to you I was out of my skin
I missed you yesterday and you leave tomorrow
A life spent in the shadows of lushly tint
Smoke your waves
Exhale the freshness of your menthol scent
Home is what you call shelters that need no defense
You’ll say goodbye
I’ll send again
You won’t reply
Is the appreciation of another’s existence
Is the anticipation of seeing you again
You and I, we’ll cruise the shores
Together we’ll settle with the wind
The joy of a small hut, a lovers den
I’ll wonder why
You’ll send again
I will not reply
"our songs for sale"
Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2009
note: this lovely poem was presented to my husband and I on the day of our anniversary,
this past November (Thanksgiving weekend).
hope you won't mind if I share...written by my son Scott (we are blessed)
"ONCE UPON A TIME"
It said, as I sat by firelight reading
In the eve of a long, full day.
"He was not the son of a king
She was not the daughter of royalty
But when they were in each other's arms,
He was a prince, she a princess.
It was a small cottage,
Not a castle, no towers, no servants
But there were two who
Adorned the walls, planted the garden
Warmed the rooms,
Created a home.
Some days the storms would blow,
And beat upon the home
That was not fortified with stone.
But as the two held on to each other
The walls held fast,
And indeed grew stronger with every storm.
And together they saw many rainbows.
Along their path, children were born
Three, young and strong
Who played games of their own making
Not by nanny or boarding school master
But by the love that filled their home.
I did not read of captains of battle
Or a princess in the forest
Waiting for a magical kiss.
But I read of heroes,
And they lived happily ever after".....
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
Walk With Me
I said, "Look at the mess I've made."
He said, "Take my hand and don't be afraid."
I said, "But I feel so ashamed."
He said, "I love you son and you're the reason I came."
I said, "What about those dark days ahead?"
He said, "My love will be nourishment and keep you well fed."
I said, "I'm not brave tell me what to do."
He said, "Believe in me and I'll carry you through."
I said, "Okay Father, teach me to be a man."
He said, "I love you my son now take my hand."
I said, "My soul is Yours for eternity."
He said, "I'm proud of you my son, now walk with me."
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
~My Trip With Love~
A arrival from Montreal to San Francisco seeing my son and his children.
B beautiful red roses on my approach expressing their love towards me.
C for caring to have an eye contact honoring my motherly devotion & fidelity.
D for dreams come true when i sleep at night in my own studio.
E for enjoy having our breakfast first day while exchanging our life time stories.
F for faithfulness towards one another was so important since his childhood.
G good friends who invites me to their homes to meet their families.
H for happiness when I run to the restaurant help greett his customers at work.
I interfering with my sons life is a long forgotten issue, a perpetual respect .
J for jokes we exchange together through evenings laughing endlessly.
K kissing me good night when the night is over for me to retire.
L for love that I get from both of them when I cook an oriental dish.
M morning ride on a tour with family & soft music while driving.
N for never do I complain about any subject when shared together.
O older, but I don't let them feel my arthritis pains when I am visiting.
P for pictures are taken as souvenirs from this fabulous journey once a year
Q quite evenings when I leave my son and wife to have an intimate night.
R for roll up my sleeves to clean their home to amaze them out of love.
S surprise when home from work to a house clean & table set for dinner.
T transport for me is the subway my independence not to bother him.
U unique love between a son and mother, he is my rock. Best friends.
V variable outings touring the city while discussing his children's future.
W wanting those happy days to last forever. But will return next year.
X xylophone for enjoying the music of our last dinner together.
Y yearning from my depth to have wanted my stay to last longer.
Z zone when we said farewell at the end of the visitors area. Tears of joy.
Visiting my sons once a year is my dream come true forever. The love for my children has always been, "The Endless Love Of A Child".
An ABC poem :For Alfred Vassello
Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013
Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer
Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own
Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I
won or lost.
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land
Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want
Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.
Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.
Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go
Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward
Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!
Copyright © Rajat Singhal | Year Posted 2014
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
¡Vaya con Dios!
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014
"As a boy, I believed her to be indestructible....
....then there came a day when my Mother felt so light and frail.
This moment helped me to become a man."
Admiring the frost blossoming
in-between the antique window panes,
for just as snowflakes,
no two blossoms of frost are identical --
A fractalized, crystalline collage
of kaleidoscopic pyramids,
moving in and out of this frozen web
which catches sunlight as prey,
instead of ghastly house flies.
The new shoots of an indoor spider plant
add a whole new level of nature's artistry
by casting shadows of spiders
into the ever-growing icy web.
The play of shadow and light,
invokes a plethora of memories,
including the time when only her eyes
could be seen through breaks in the frosted panes.
Separated from the other features of her face,
they had taken on a whole new meaning altogether.
She wasn't as invincible as formerly believed,
wondering if life had something more to offer;
if she had the strength to make the right choices.
Exactly like a cold winter's day,
filled with so many depictions and details
of chilly death and crisp, brittle branches
swaying in the biting wind and frozen landscape -
all of the time knowing
how power and renewal lurks beneath the surface.
One simply needed the strength to wait it out.
And just as this frost growing
in-between the window panes will melt,
Mother's struggles had also melted away
into a warmer pond filled with lotus flowers and koi,
relishing in the golden years,
possibly wondering if her son still remembered
the unguarded glance shared so many years before.
Her son had been on the outside looking in,
and now, for this frozen moment in time,
he is on the inside, looking out.
Chris D. Aechtner All Rights Reserved
*An older post that has already been entered into a past contest.
Constance's 'Mother' contest
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2011
In my arms,
in the depths of mine heart
In the shadows,
in the bright
In the pastures,
in betwixt the trees
In his thoughts,
inside of mine
In Noah trots
into Pops life
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2012
Quiet and still now.
The swing occasionally catches the air.
The tire never moves.
There’s no one there to care.
The jungle gym beside it is played with by squirrels.
The sand box below holds creatures quiet and shy.
Tiny plastic men are lost in the sand deep below.
A metal car is with them, once favorite of them all.
Leaves stir in the clubhouse, with spiders in its loft.
My son hadn’t played with it for a long, long while.
But I hadn’t noticed while he was here running in the house.
And now when I see the Wooden Swing Set…
It’s connects with my empty heart.
A touch of Empty Nest Syndrome brought this poem to me.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011
My son, my one and only
To you, I give my hand
You left us grieving for you
This dark and lonely night
Take my hand and lead me
Leave me not in despair
Let me join you this present hour
For my heart can not go on
A moment more without you
My love, my one and only.
Copyright © Giselle Sun | Year Posted 2009
I woke this morning
yes, this morning
and felt the warmth of love
‘pon mine forehead
and my face
and my ears
and my nose
I woke this morning
yes, this morning
and heard the warmth of love
close to mine forehead
and my face
and my ears
and my nose
I woke this morning
yes, this morning
and heard his words of love;
“Don’t worry Pops,
I washed my fingers before
I counted the wrinkles on your,
and your nose
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2015
Pulled himself to the very top
Looked over the world on high
Felt the warm and stirring breeze
falling from the sky
Knowing this was how it felt
to soar above the land
To feel so safe away from things
so free to be alive
Yet down the pole we all must come
to touch the very ground
This is where we laugh and play
gives us what we need
The loving smile of a young girl's face
a women's tender care
For up above the pole to fly
is nothing but the air
But on the soil we grow and live
to reach out, to touch, to give
So keep your feet upon the ground
take a good long look around
and see if flying above the pole
isn't like living in a hole
from where you never see
the reaching hands pulling you down
pulling you down to be
Copyright © Elinore Carney | Year Posted 2005
As I follow the footsteps of my son
My heart breaks at every word said
As my tears run down my face
I vision, tenderly cradling him in my arms
when he was young
Does it have to be this way?
They only loved and worshiped Him yesterday
What has happened in just a day to make everyone hate him so?
As I take every step behind him watching him suffer so
My legs want to fold underneath me of the pain in my heart for my son
For every blow he takes, for every time he falls
My eyes swell and my nose runs
from the suffering that my son is enduring
and I am not allowed to get near him to comfort him in my arms
Please, let his suffering end
I can’t bear it any longer watching Him being nailed to the cross
I know it was meant to be, for our redemption
© Eve Roper 3/21/2015
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015
I am a black prince
Who use to rule over a kingdom
But now my people and me are enslaved
Force to pick the white mans cotton
I see my brother and sisters
Being whipped and branded like cattle
They think we are cattle
So we are treated like cattle
But my people dream and sing of the future
Where we are free from our shackles
I am the black preacher
Who has been freed from his shackles
But now fighting for our rights
So my son and daughter
Can go to a pool and not be separated
By the racial line.
Or when they go outside to play
They don’t have to worry about the KKK
Trying to hang them from a tree branch
That is the reason I fight that is why I want equal rights
For there can be a better tomorrow
The better tomorrow
I’m the son of the preacher
Who was the grandson of the black prince.
Here saying that enslavement and segregation
An now the only problem remains is
The fact that we are killing each other
Over money and women
This makes no sense
Have we as a people suffered enough?
Have we shed enough blood?
So I ask you
Put the gun down spread the word
Tell our brothers tell are sisters that the
300 years of enslavement and segregation is over
We have our black president
We have the power
To show the world that
We as a people are united
Copyright © kevin goodrum | Year Posted 2012
I must confess!!
my mother was not there
when i needed milk from somebody's breast
Probably she was feeling stress -
daddy used to beat her down
living marks from the face to the chest
Eventually mom left,
living behind two sons;
i must believe she thought it was best
To do not worry about the rest -
she kept on going forward
and buildup a new nest
I'm not writing this for you to criticize
for you to analyze
That i had realize!!
You couldn't ever gone back
to get hurt and be utilize
So you came to the deep south
with only one purpose;
not ever going back to the devil's mouth
If i was you i would have done the same,
but again, what about my sons
you know what, don't take the blame
Mother is alright!!
I am very thankful
for i am very bright
Thank you again for giving birth
two beautiful sons;
worth introducing to the planet Earth
Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009
Too big for his britches, too small for his cap
Just the right size for mama's lap
He keeps me in stitches, the things he will say
"Oh let him stay little", I repeatedly pray
A little firecracker with spunk to spare
He walks in the house and strips down bare
Not a single piece of clothing, not even a sock
Demands to be naked, stubborn as a rock
Bath time is the best if you'r ready for some fun
Not a dry spot on the wall by the time he is done
There is something about that boy that tugs at my heart
An emptiness inside, when we are apart
His little blonde curls and sweet little face
A perfect little person, thanks to God's glory and grace
I love that he needs me and doesn't want me to leave
Lord knows I need him too, more than I need to breathe
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015
"Put on channel seven.
My Lord!! What have they done!
I can not believe it..
they killed my only son!"
Raised with respect.
Never a problem.
Worked hard as a Man.
Problems..he would solve them.
He did well in College..
He struggled..but made it through.
Held his chin up when he was down.
Gods help..guided him through.
He put down his cup of coffee.
Kissed his daughters face.
Ran to catch the bus.
To join the daily race.
On the 105th floor,
"Ding!" and he steps out.
He can already hear.
His boss’s vivid shouts.
We are staring at the screen.
The worst disaster I have ever seen.
The building collapsed.
My heart went numb.
is my only son?
Did he make to the office?
Lord tell me..it’s not true.
God, take me instead of him!
Please help him get through.
"Where is my Daddy?"
I was staring in her eyes..
I saw it then..she realized.
"Why would they do it?
..What have they done?
I said, "We are not to hate but..
..but they have killed my only son."
Copyright © Jennifer M. | Year Posted 2014
On the beach at dusk,
you say that someone has
thrown sand into the sky,
and please won't I sweep
it away so you can play
awhile longer with your
sand castles and little plastic boats.
You are confident
I can do anything,
and, Son, I've always tried.
But even I cannot
hold back the night.
Darkness closes in around us,
and for the first time
you look up at me,
and see that I'm not God!
For your best free verse poem
SKAT A/ Contest
Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2014
You have grown to be such a man
yet, I cannot help but see the boy in you
you are my Son, who wears many uniforms
as your father, I cannot help but be Proud,
I see you march in the Orange and Black
your new horn, the one you have polished to a glow
every step you take, Orchestrated to perfection
with every note played, My pride, Crescendo
Then, you have worked hard, and Matured
a letter arrives, Office of the Governor, the Man himself
an invitation, Ambassadorship, a Musical one
Travel Europe, Summer next, Seven Countries
A Father, busting with pride, Why? I'll tell you!
Because, " Your Easy to be Proud of"
Yet as proud as I am, there is this other Uniform
the one you wear with Honor, Duty, Love of Country
the one with Medals, Braids and Epaulets
the one with a special pin, a hometown pin
Five Stars Golden, enveloped by Black and Orange
Tenne' a Chevron, a Chief, a Ring of Life
of the First Argent, A Scroll in Black
an inscription, " Classis Adhaereo Adstringo"
A Motto, In Latin, ascribed by the Navy
for Five hometown boys Lost in War
of how they lived and died " We Stick Together"
Albert,Francis,George,Joseph and Madison Sullivan
In that Uniform, I see the Man, not the boy
I cannot help but be caught, in solemn thought
This Man, with Anapolis in sight and mind
on this, the Eve of the 9/11 tragedy and War
That solemn thought reverts to Sacrifice
the Sullivan's sacrificed,9/11 over 3000 sacrificed
all did so,willingly or not, for Country, for God
I think you have foreseen Your Destiny, Your own
Josh, whatever Uniform you decide to wear,
whatever path, you may choose to walk
I'll always Love you, Be there for and with you
and be So Very Proud of You, Why? Because!
You're Easy to be Proud of!
With all my Love.....Dad
Copyright 2011 Richard Pickett
Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2011