The Dad I Use To Know
My Dad, a little honest like a Priest
Taught me how to live and feast
With bangles of gold and diamond to your wrist
After a bloated tummy chant petitions due east
Son, nothing your path spare like a beast
'Cos amongst earth you're spared not to be the least
Told me life's but an illusion of morns mist
Gentle and rough 'pends on the angle you twist
I hail this sage who but on papers make no list.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
