Land of Tacenda
I bite my tongue
I felt the responses churning in my stomach but
I bite my tongue
The words rose up to my chest, my heart beating in anger
I held my bark
The words reached my tongue, my mouth turning sour to the taste
I looked up in your eyes ready to berate
But instead my tail was between my legs
I had entered the land of tacenda
Better left unsaid than argue with a wall
Better left unsaid than start a war
So the land of tacenda welcomed me with a warm chant and a soft embrace
No more yelling no more screaming just once again put back in my place
I love you too
The words reach his ears as I’m already up the stairs
Out of his reach
But never out of his mind
3 years of unanswered love
3 years of loving her anyway
3 years of watching your baby girl drift away
Until tonight
By noon the next day you’re in another state
Thinking about last night
3 years but now you have your daughter back
But in another state she is pulled from class
By noon she finally asked for help
3 years of unanswered prayers
3 years of unwanted hands
3 years of staying silent
Until tonight
By dawn the police will come
Asking for her report
But she’ll be thinking about last night
3 years and now his daughter will never be back
It took 3 years of staying silent
3 years of being his perfect quiet daughter
Now when she counts the years it will start from when she could breath again
While he can count the years since he was caught
flannel is cozy, soft, warm, and comforting
I have worn it all my life, because I am an Iowan,
a daughter of two farm kids who also wear flannel
My favorite flannel shirt was my daddy’s
it is red with green, gold, blue and slivers of gray
In my closet, but there if I need it
This shirt smells like my Daddy
He has been gone twelve years
there is nothing more comforting than a whiff of this flannel shirt
I say “Hi Daddy” every single time
Crawford boxes
Wearing white soxs
Cindy and Chase
Built their case
About the train
Transporting the financial grain
Seeking fortune with fame
Going through each state
Fishing tempting bait
Until hiding in a bush
The reality push
Stupid economy
Transitioning to Daddy and Mommy
Super modeling soda pop
Choo Choo would not stop
For the Crawford boxes
Wearing white soxs
Better one will survive
Others will say goodbye
Until banks stepped in
Deciding who would win
GQ pinstripes
With the Broadway lights
Ending championship fight
Turning off the lights
Saying everyone is all right
And good night
Putting the dolls back into the Crawford boxes
Still selling South Side White Soxs
Dad made the low table.
one of the things his hands
have given the house.
Now it holds her photograph,
the small lamp,
and cyclamens lifting
their pink faces
through lace-filtered light.
Each morning, he says Good morning,
then switches on the lamp.
He takes the walker
into the garden each day,
selecting what is flowering
among her favourites
and brings them back
in his careful hands
to place beside her frame.
The curtains soften
the afternoon to green.
On the table he made,
fresh stems lean close
to her face in the photograph.
At night, he says Goodnight.
He brushes her face
before turning off the lamp.
Beyond the lace,
one late flower
holds its colour
in the fading sun.
Happy Heavenly Birthday, Dad, you would be 100 today - I miss you like a ghost misses heartbeats.
~
midst all of heaven's blessings
my treasures, known and had
not one can best the miracle
that fate made you ... my dad.
I love you, RT.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
Father, I have left school as the smartest.
Are you proud of me?
I have conquered the known world.
Father, are you proud of me?
I have created kingdoms and religions where all bow to your surname.
I ask, Father, are you proud of me?
Mother says she is proud of the person I have become.
Yet I look to the stars: Father, are you proud of me?
I have sacrificed so many days and nights, now they are just memories I forget.
Father, are you proud of me?
Son i truly hope you know
How much you mean to me
I know at times I make it difficult
But somehow I hope you see
I don't mean to be so tough on you
For me emotions are hard to show
And I'm doing the best I can
To guide you as you grow
Life isn't an easy journey
We don't always know what to do
As you bear witness to my struggles
Know I want better for you
As my baby boy grows into a man
This is all I will ask of you
Have a heart gentler than mine
And take pride in every thing you do
And know that not a day goes by
That you don't fill my heart with joy
I pray you know how much I love you
And you will always be my baby boy
Pain creeped in with the early hours of the morning,
I was doubled over in pain.
As I was screaming,
my dad was wrapping me in a blanket.
Off to the hospital he sped,
then carrying me through the big doors.
My appendix was about to burst open,
emergency surgery was for me.
He Was a Child Once, Too
He was a child once, too—
before the dusk outgrew the dawn,
before his little hands knew
how much a heart could carry on.
A face once lived beyond his sight,
then slipped away from memory’s light;
and childhood, like a fading tune,
grew quiet beneath a borrowed moon.
He became a roof in someone’s rain,
a little warmth against their pain;
he gave his flame so others could see,
while darkness kept a place for him silently.
He wore the years like a borrowed coat,
kept every storm inside his throat;
and though the world saw strength in him,
I know the child still lives within.
To me, that man is not merely strong—
he is the real hero of my life.
I love you, Abu.
— Zehreen
Before the midnight hour chimed
A white wolf crossed albescent snow
And saw me with its diamond eyes
Shining right into my soul
I miss the woods where Dad and I
Sat by the coppice of conifer trees
The warmth of the winter sun piqued my mind
Nature’s aroma wafting in the breeze
The years have eased the ache of loss
And let the Northwoods live once more
White snow, warm meals, and paths we crossed
Return like footsteps to my door
For every memory, I give thanks
For love, that time cannot unravel
And pray beyond these earthly banks
We’ll meet in Heaven by God’s gavel
Everything is crushing down again,
his mind is gone and his body shakes.
I used to say he was like a ticking time bomb,
because we are just waiting, but it´s even harder on my mom.
Usually, he finds his way back,
But for us, it´s really hard.
And for me to help, I have to be tough,
But I only want to make him laugh.
I hope this time is no different
And that we can have some more time,
Before his mind becomes indifferent
And we can only say goodbye.
That fearful moment is getting closer,
But this time I think we are prepared,
We just hope it´s not too hard on her,
And that we can all just remember the moments we shared.
Now he is gone,
And we just have to go home,
Knowing he is in a better place now,
With no more suffering
And we have to learn to live without him somehow…
Sometimes I don’t decide; sometimes I do.
Really, I always take a decision –
Choosing nothing’s a decision too,
But not a choice of no revision
As if refusal makes an incision.
Now my dad has offered me chips,
I’m feeling my willpower slip,
My answer holding all my weight.
I let go to taste… but regain my grip.
There are healthier snacks that still are great!
What can I say?
Did I know you wouldn't stay?
Why did you play?
Was our bond just moldable clay?
Why did I get a formal "father",
When I just wanted a "dad" who'd bother?
When I was small, I wished to be big,
Tired of playing this childhood jig.
But once I grew up, I wanted back small,
To escape the shadows that made me feel tall.
My teenage years were drowning in tension,
While they relaxed and lived on a pension.
You demanded so much more,
I asked, "Is there nothing else in store?"
You screamed that you still wanted more!
Was my existence just a tedious chore?
They want the girl to build a home,
Though she was left to weep alone.
Mother sees the rising evil,
But she prefers to love her own
Sweet devil.
Daddy, there's an octopus in the cellar.
Dear, the octopus is an ocean dweller.
Daddy, now the octopus is in the attic.
Dear, the octopus is known to be aquatic -
just as I have told you, daughter.
Daddy, but the house is underwater.
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Definition | What is Dad in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
daddy, father, father of the bride, father time, fathers day, grandad, godfather, grandfather, great grandfather, pa, papa, parent, pop, procreator