Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Son Poems

Below are the all-time best Son poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of son poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Son poems, articles about Son poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Son poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

New Son Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Son poems are below this new poems list.

My Son by Brown, Tera
A PRAYER FOR MY YOUNGEST SON by Robles, E.P.
To my son: Dream by Videnova, Gergana
Prodigal Son Dreams by Dillenbeck, Gerald
Leonhard Euler once said to his son by Malenfant, Jerome
Son of Brahma by bhattacharjya, anjanjyoti
Prodigal son by Lyrewing, Serge
ON MY SON 7TH BIRTHDAY by tran, hien
YOU Crucified the Son of God by McConnell, Gordon
An Old Man's Tale To His Son by Ward, Julia

View all new Son Poems

The Best Son Poems

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

-Unlatched-

_______________________

So young, I was, and so naive There was no doubt, I did believe this babe who's latched inside my womb with ties we had,... would always be Latched on was he, as he was fed then later days, our hands instead Not tall enough to open gates I would reach the latch for his escape In time he grew to need more space The cord we had, still had it's place The loving ties from birth, so long were gently stretching.., moving on, yet still remaining full and strong In time he grew, to be a man Our bond had changed, but still lives on He fell in love, as it should be His bond with her, I'm glad to see doesn't mean our own is gone Songs are sung when lovers part but no song for a mother's heart When new adventures come one day and new roads take him far away The man he is, has been set free to be the man he wants to be The child he was is never gone She's letting go, yet holding on If once, one wish, were mine to choose so many would my thoughts pursue But one within my heart still yearns for just one day, the clocks would turn Together you and I would be sitting there among the trees I would lift you up upon my knee just as we did when you were three…
___________________________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: Children In Rhyme


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

O' Middle Child

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........


                                                            




______________________________________________________
4/30/2013


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mother

A mother was born and dreamed of a beautiful life
A new journey had begun - but a hard path lay ahead
Demons seduced her beloved - leaving her alone
The land was foreign and dark clouds appeared above
Child in hand the mother reached an ambiguous cross road
Before setting foot upon the long way - her conscience enquired
"Are you sure this is the right path? It will be difficult, full of pain"
The mother smiled as she saw hope in her infant's eyes
A real mother would sacrifice her own happiness for a child
Storms came on dark days with thunder and lightning
but, she kept her child dry and secure
Winters came with cold days and masonic winds
but, she kept her child warm and protected
Sometimes she would not eat - but kept her child nourished
In secrecy, tears would fall - her son would only see a happy mask
There were days when life was burdensome and full of worry
and she shook in fear - defeating hazards and obstacles,
as she guided her son along the terrain of the highest mountain
When they reached the top her son reassured his mother
"Thank you mother - I would not have got here without you,
you can let go now. I think I will be OK from here"
His mother smiled with pride - her boy was now a man
When her son was at a loss - his mother would remind him
"Son you only learn from losing"
When her son lay dying - his mother gave him hope and taught him faith
"Son, you can't control what happens to you in life,
but you can control how you react to it"
With the love and prayers of his mother and the grace of God
he defeated the most evil disease and is even stronger
Life is full of trials and tests - being optimistic will help defeat hardship
Loving others will give them belief and a reason to live. 

Never underestimate the love of a mother who sacrifices so much,
but sometimes we do not realise how much.  My mother has taught me so much and is my hero.  I am thankful to my mother for always being there even on the darkest days.  For helping me through my battle with cancer and always inspiring me to be the best that I can be.  It is a true honour to be her son.

15 October 2015







Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Honourable son

I gaze upon a painting from decades ago. My beloved son at a T-ball game.  How focused you are, while the other children were distracted.  The other parents always so rowdy, but I was happy just to watch you play.  Nobody expected the kids to make a catch, but you did and I was so proud.  I'm so honoured to have you as a son, the only one who has remained focused on his parents.

eyes like an eagle
gloves hunting the ball for prey
smile brighter than sun

I still remember the day you told me you were going to war. "Mum and dad don't cry, pray for me. I will be home soon" you said.  I was so scared for my beloved child. Whenever I looked at you all I saw was that infant from years ago. A child becomes an adult, but you were always a baby in my eyes. The days always seemed darker after that, the rain heavier, snow colder and the wind stronger.  Always patiently waiting for any communication.  There were days my heart ached for you and tears never stopped falling. Thanksgiving and Christmas were never the same. Everyday I prayed for you to be safe.

seasons change with time
nocturnal insomnia
soul hibernating

My prayers were answered when you returned safely. Still the noble son that had left to protect our country.  Not just a hero to the nation, but my biggest one.  You being home was like the first day of spring.  Everything was colourful and flowers began to bloom.  Holding you - my heart was finally at peace.

sun is shining bright
birds sing their beautiful songs
love has returned home

My first attempt at a traditional Haibun.
Oil Paintings 4 & 5 - Poetry Contest by Eve Roper
The Silent One
28 November 2015





Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE

You are the light of my world my precious son filled my days with happiness and fun. Always smiling, never blue how quickly you grew. Pure delight you shine so bright. Strive in all you do now, and for your whole life through. Spread your wings and fly; my job is done. You are the light of my world my precious son 02~13~15 Contest – An Invented Form – Andrea Dietrich syllables checked 11,9,7,5,3,1,3,5,7,9,11 name of new form - mission almost impossible! Entered in any poem written in 2015 contest sponsored by Laura Loo


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Soldier

I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.

“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.

I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.

The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”

I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.

I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.

I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.

It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.

That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier. 


Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Judge Not

The congregation eyed him skeptically
     Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
     This rambler had just come in from the street

He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
     And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
     When he greeted God with a gentle tongue

“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
     His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
     But He was not repelled by their contempt

“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
     Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
     I ask for forgiveness, make them aware

“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
     I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
     At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis

Some of the congregation dwell below
     But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
     Appearances he did never deride



*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Game, Playing the Game

'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?

I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces

(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)

Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)

Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)

I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
 
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.





Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning
I try not to wake him, though he stirs slightly
As I crawl out from the warmth of the covers.
I'm tempted to change my mind, and stay awhile longer,
But a glint of sunlight peeks through the blind and calls to me.
If I burrow down again, and drowse too long, 
This glorious time of day will be gone...until it comes again tomorrow.

I tiptoe quietly and begin the morning ritual.
The splashing of water on my face, of letting the dog out,
Of brewing the dark, hot liquid that will help to
Open my eyes and recharge my reluctant brain.

The inviting aroma finally wakes my senses, and after
The first sip, I begin to feel the desire to join the world again.
I go outside, step onto the weathered porch, down the steps,
Onto the wet grass to retrieve today's bundled news.
Within it comes a page-by-page account of disasters, obituaries and comics...
I decide to forego all that gloom, and lay the paper beside the front door.

Instead, I drink in the morning air.
The new day is slowly coming alive.  There's a slight chill.
This coolness will be baked away later, when the sun is high.
I pull my robe around me tightly, and sit down on the stoop.
Birds are chirping, and soon, I see that neighbors are beginning to embrace the 
day.
House by house, there is evidence that awakening has occurred.

A car is cruising by our  house.  The occupants, wearing their
Sunday best, and on their way to an early service to praise the Lord.
While some are sitting in pews, singing Alleluia,
A man down the street is starting his lawnmower.
Not mindful that the Sabbath is a day of rest,
Or that he may wake a late sleeper.

Inside my house, I hear the sounds of water running and dishes rattling.
Then someone calling my name.  In a moment he appears
Carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, one for him, and another for me.
He's come to see what this new day has offered, and sits down beside me.

We sit together quietly, and soak up the morning sun.
It wraps its warmth around us, like the bedcovers we had abandoned.
No words are needed to enjoy this moment.
However, toast and jam, and bacon await us.  So we turn and go inside.


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Parting Gifts


                 My Parting Gifts…

Goodbye my son, my only king.
You are my love, your name I sing. 
My wish was more to be with you,
to be with you, and see you through.
This is my fate to leave you now,
my dread was this, to tell you how.
I’m going away, place unknown. 
The way I lived was not my own.
I am going, to ease my pain.
Letting you go, is my complain.
I am with you, with morning dawn.
Kissing with breeze until it’s gone.
My parting gifts to you my son,
to live your life, the way is fun.
Surrender to, the thing you love,
what measures love, grows above.
To get knowledge to find out why;
what is this life to you and I?
Me and you both, we are oneness.
There is no fear, to feel darkness.
I am going without goodbye,
Remember me the way I fly. 


2/16/16 Haloo

For: AJ

For contest: My parting gifts
Sponsored by: Viv Wigley


Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Wise Men Still Seek Him Today

W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
 
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him.  It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day. 
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
 
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today! 
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
 
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.

H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
 
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You.  Will You accept this love?

For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.


Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Your Time To Shine

What will you do when it’s your time to shine?
Do you have all your words written down in your mind?
Have you planned for the day when they call on your name?
To lift up a soul and help hide someone’s shame?

Is it easy for you to just stand up and speak?
Anytime, anywhere – any day of the week?
What about when you’re asked to give your point of view
On the many events that take place in the news?

If you’re asked to speak on the ‘good news’ of Christ
To those who yet walk in the world, full of vice.
Do you have rhyming words or a sweet song to sing?
As you share the news of our Resurrected King?

These questions I ask are to keep us in mind
Of the Great Commission given to all mankind!
That our King returns with Victory in His hand,
And all will bow down with their knees in the sand

Giving glory to God – Who truly loved us all
Even though disobedience caused us to fall.
Yet He gave all He had even Everlasting Life.
He forgave us our sins – He took away our strife.

His command said “go forth in the world, filled with love
And be as wise as serpents – but gentle as doves”.
So what will you do when it’s your time to shine?
When God opens up Heaven and says “This child is Mine?”


Copyright © Neva Romaine | Year Posted 2009

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Security Blanket

Security Blanket 

No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.

I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm emotions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.

Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.

My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug, 
Is all I need to succeed, 
You are, my only creed!

A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby, 
my arms are your bed.

“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”

By; pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Baseball Card

And there you were - 
blue cap and jersey, white pants
bat held high above the shoulder
cocked and ready to swat one out
in that perfect stance of yours...
Shoulder turned, name half visible
(Proud you were to wear that name
Proud was I you wore that name)

Yes there you were - 
smiling that smile of yours...
Cocky, confident, ready-or-not smile
The kind of smile of someone who
was exactly where he belonged
exactly where he wanted to be
in that very place, that very moment
doing what he was born to do
Fulfilling his destiny...

(Yes that's my boy out there
Yes he IS a good player isn't he?)

So there you were - 
An all-star you were, oh yes, a star
a shining, glittering star but:
Stars are born to flame out, die
We are all born to die it is said
Seems only the best of us die young
and far too soon, too soon
You died too soon...

*2nd place in the "Batter-up" contest judged on 6/17/2015




Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

From a Hospital Bed

 FROM A HOSPITAL BED
Wordancer

Even if I’m dizzy with an aching head, 
I must not disturb the others in the beds
In this hospital ward where not much is said
For fear of making a fuss.

It’s not much fun with nothing to do 
Can’t even get up to go to the Loo
The doctors come, and ask, ‘How are you?’
It’s hard to tell them which is worse 

Visiting hours and here’s Dad and Mum
Who immediately asks me why I’m so glum.
I tell them, ‘The others had ice-cream, but I got none,
And, if it was you Dad; you’d curse!’

Patting my hand, Mum says, ‘It’s all right,’
And Dad says, ‘You might get some tonight,
Cos you’re looking better, you’re not so white, 
I’ll go over and ask that nurse.’

Back he comes grinning down the ward,
And sits back in the chair without a word,
To Mum he whispers so he can’t be heard
Then his eyes meet mine, his lips are pursed. 

The doors swing open; a nurse comes through,
Carrying a tray and says, ‘This is for you,
You can have some now you are healing like new,
To Mum, Dad says, ‘We’ll cancel the hearse!’

I’ve broken no bones, the x-rays prove, 
But there’ll be a scar and a slight groove
Left from the fencepost that failed to move
When I fell on it, off my horse

With an arm in a sling and one foot on the ground,
The other in plaster and my head bandaged round,
I’m going home soon, and my horse has been found
Across the river, but he’s none the worst.

It’s easy to laugh with no aching head
And it doesn’t disturb the others in beds
‘There is no need to fear,’ as everyone says,
‘Just ring the bell for the nurse!’ 


Copyright © J Eliza JAMES | Year Posted 2012

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Missing My Little Boys

My babies have all gone,
They've grown and left the nest,
Spreading out their wings to fly,
Upon life's thrilling quest.

The years flew by so quickly.
Babies turned into little boys.
Little boys grew into manhood,
Putting away their childish toys.

I miss those little boy faces,
With their mischievous, winsome smiles.
I miss their childish chatter,
And their creative little boy wiles.

Why didn't I pay more attention?
Why didn't I play with them more?
Why didn't I realize how fleeting time was?
But I didn't and it makes my heart sore.

I miss the little boys that my sons were,
But I'm proud of the men they've become.
They'll always be my little boys,
And I will always love them.

Kim Merryman    3/10/12
Entered in SKAT's "Greatly Missed" contest


Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Out of the Park

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

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Angels Above

Angels Above
A. W. Nutter

At fifteen, I was to young to become a father
At fourteen, she didn’t need to be a mother
We were old enough to have sexual relations
Unable to understand the implications

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love

Parents abusing us for this sinful union
Adolescents fearful and full of confusion
Not able to cope with the adult pressure
The mothers young body goes into labor

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love

My son struggled between life and death
I held his hand as he took his last breath
From my hands his little body was pried
The tears falling like rain from my eyes

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love.

Occasionally the mother and my path will cross
Seldom do we mention or discuss our loss
But every year at nine, on the sixteenth of May
We both agreed, to light a candle and silently pray

To the angels watching from heaven above
 Shower our son with mercy, show him your love




Copyright © Anthony Nutter | Year Posted 2009

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Rocked us gently

Her long silken hair has thinned and turned to grey.
Brother, if we keep trying, I know we can find a way
to keep Mum safe at home, so she need never fear.
I don't want to send her away. I want her to stay near.

Sis, Mum can't even remember who her children are.
We can't take good care of her since we live in cities afar.
Her memories are disappearing. We're just strangers.
If we allow her to live all by herself she'll be in danger.


          She rocked us gently upon her knee
          Now she's the one who needs care
          On Mum's destiny we need to agree
          It's a hard decision we both must bear
 

All of her life Mum has carefully looked after us.
Please, don't be stubborn and let's not make a fuss.
Can't you see, now it's our turn to do the same?
I don't even care if she can't remember my name.

I swear I'm not being stubborn. I love Mum as much as you.
This isn't easy on either of us, but please think this through.
Sis, you know we need to consider her health and well being.
I have a family of my own and to their needs I must be seeing.


          She rocked us gently upon her knee
          Now she's the one who needs care
          On Mum's destiny we need to agree
          It's a hard decision we both must bear


I know your family should come first, but she's our Mother.
She's always been there for us when we needed her, Brother.
I will never agree to put her in a home and just lock her away,
so I'm offering to move back in with her to be there every day.

I'm not sure that you understand the commitment of that task.
You won't have a life of your own, this burden of you I can't ask.
You know I will help when ever I can, but promises I can't make.
Just be sure what you're giving up is not more than you can take.
 

          She rocked us gently upon her knee
          Now she's the one who needs care
          On Mum's destiny we need to agree
          It's a hard decision we both must bear.

 
When I search her distant eyes, I see  love and trust looking back.
I promise she'll know that she's loved;  there is nothing she will lack.
I feel her slipping further away from us when I take her fragile hand,
so will you agree to let her stay at home; will you try to understand?


You make an unselfish offer, Sister. It's one I would never ignore.
It makes me feel wretched with guilt, I really wish I could do more.

I'm not finding fault with you, Brother. Can we please give this a try?
We want to see smiles on Mum's face, and not give her reason to cry.

          She rocked us gently upon her knee
          Now she's the one who needs care
          On Mum's destiny, at last we agree
          She'll not leave her own rocking chair.

7 January 2016

Write me a duet contest by Heather Ober


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

ANTHONY

An angel gave wings to you so you can fly
Never will life pass you by
Toward the sky you will guide
Hovering above the world so high
On a cloud you sit as other's sigh
Never will you fall from the sky
Your angels taught you how to fly


Copyright © Linda walden | Year Posted 2014

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

God's little poet

He poked his head
betwix mine write
for the likes of I
to address his query;

"Do I blend in
Pops,
do my words
sense?"

The tears 
fell


Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2010

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sweet child of mine

As I watched my daughter playing with her son, I couldn't help but see myself in her. I still think of her as a child, but i guess parents always see their grown children as babies. My daughter is a reflection of me in many ways. She calls me her hero, but I'm the one who is proud of her. A tear rolls from my eye as I remember all the struggles we faced. Growing up as the child of a single parent, her life was a harsh reality.  

                   I didn't know how to care for you, or how to handle your cries.
                   I wasn't sure what to do until I looked into your innocent eyes.  

                  The first time you woke in the night, you scared me half to death.
                  My heart was filled with such fright, I could hardly catch my breath

                 I fixed you a bottle of warm milk and rocked you until sleeping.
                 I touched your hair, soft as silk. I held you close in safe-keeping.

     My daughter left for a meeting in the middle of an atrocious storm. Heavy rain had been falling all day with outbreaks of thunder and lightning. "Love you both," she said, as she hugged me and her son, then rushed out. I was left with my adorable grandson. Cuddling him close and watching him play reminded me of times when my daughter was his age. Life had been a struggle: she had been a lively infant but I'd almost lost her from a series of convulsions. When she was nine, she decided to run away, but only got as far as the front yard. Then there were the terrible teens with the silly boyfriends I had to threaten. She had matured into a beautiful young woman, a wife and mother, and an influential and inspirational adult. Watching her grow up had been filled with trials, but also with much love and delight - I would not have changed a thing.

                 You were nearly lost to me, and I would've never known
                 the angel you would be, through the years you've grown.

                Your younger years we spent together flew by much too fast.
                A boyfriend dressed in leather?  Thank God that's in the past. 

               Who would you become, when into a woman you were grown?
               One day to be a mum? Would you have a child of your own? 
 
     My grandson fell asleep in my arms. I didn't want to put him down, so I held him close like I used to hold my baby girl. He looked so peaceful and innocent. I was shaken from my reverie by the wind as it rattled the windows and drove sheets of rain against the panes.  With each flash of lightning and crash of thunder,  my worry grew.  I gazed at the clock and realized my daughter had been gone for more than five hours. She wasn't answering her phone. The intensity of the storm filled me with a sudden fear, just like the fear I had when she was young.

                                            baby in my arms
                               I will keep you safe from harms
                                         the rage of all storms


                                          now I fret and stew
                                daughter, what's become of you
                                         what more can I do


        I felt so helpless, trapped in the house with the baby. My palms were starting to sweat so I put him down in his crib. Even if he wasn't here I wouldn't know where to look for her. I started pacing, emotions switching between fear and agitation. I started to panic. What if something had happened to her? What would I do without her? All those fears I had when she was a child came back to me. I had to get hold of emotions. I couldn't panic. Then the door opened. "Sorry, Mum. The weather was too bad to drive home so I met a friend for coffee, and my phone lost its charge."  A sense of relief flooded through me. I held her close, just like I did when she was a child.

                                    You were my angel as a little girl
                                     Ribbons to tame your unruly curls
                                     Then you grew up much too fast
                                     into a lovely woman, a bonny lass.

                                    Now you have a child of your own.
                                    Before you know it, he'll be grown.
                                    A grandson to hold upon my knee,
                                    Thank you, daughter, for loving me.

Freestyle Haibun: Prose, Couplets, Senryu and Rhyme.
Collaboration between Lin Lane and Silent One
10 December 2015


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Campfire and Tall Tales

Campfire And Tall Tails Friends and sons come walking into the campsite all dress in camo from their long day’s hunt Around the crackling campfire, they all gather and sat to warm their much-needed cold wet bodies Keeping warm with a bottle of Jack Daniels or Black Velvet, and a can of Mountain Dew being passed around Adding more wood to the campfire so it would last through the night With the sons poking sticks into the embers and watching the flame spark, pop, and dance in their sight, while others roast marshmallows at the end of their sticks The men are fixing their evening meal for all to feast on They all gather around the campfire and sit, Teasing and telling stories of their day’s adventure out in the woods, Of a long, exhausting hike around the mountain, With a vision of elk with a large crown of horns The stories are told big and small of the one they saw and had in their cross hairs, but a calf with its mother who walked in front spoiling their shot Or a bee that stung their hand when they were ready to pull the trigger When they‘re all done, they crawl into their sleeping bags so they can do it all over again the next day, Watching the campfire and teasing and telling their stories 10/29/2014


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

A mothers unfinished painting

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 Painting one


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Son Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

12,045 Days ......(and counting)

My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone 
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess

He left when I was three 
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us 
For another woman and a couple of beers

He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike 
To teach me how to fish 
Or enjoy a nature hike

Now I'm a father to my son 
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake

It's been nine years and we're going strong 
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine 
My son I guard in a web I've spun

A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing

My son doesn't know the pain I feel 
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting) 






------------------------------------------------------
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......


Copyright © Abe Lopez | Year Posted 2009