A little girl I stand, awakened early morning hour.
The sound of shuffles preparing, for coffee one will scour.
Muffled voice all too familiar, for only one it could be.
Dads words saying, “I Love You”, In the next morning I will see.
Pulling out of the drive-way, swiftness to the curtains I will peek.
Thinking about the big firetruck, heartbroken without me, fire he will seek.
Chin up my duty calls me, I drag the hose from tree to tree.
Mr. Owl followed by a quarter, responsibility instilled in me.
By evenings long awaited dusk, another dinner without dad.
We pray with mom at bedside, safe returning to be had.
Memories of impromptu visits, our other family at the station.
Popcorn, chocolate bars and hugs, dads work, a childs’ vacation.
Fond memories growing up, of all the family time we spent.
Cabin, lake and camping, Flashlight tag to no relent.
No matter our scheduled travels, no hesitations to stop and help.
Morally guided passion, his genuine attributes not found on yelp.
Uncompensated care given, unescaped these childs’ eyes, not to be unseen.
My future I learn to follow, entirely he cares for every human being.
Waves of fear come and go, a firefighter I’m reminded.
Hearing tragic unfortunate news, unsightly loss, for I am blinded.
Thirty-seven this year his daughter, any trouble called upon he’s sure to be.
A guardian angel on my horizon, A firefighter one might see.
Copyright © Chelcie Darling | Year Posted 2016
Lyrical On 44th Street
The argument started at the table
He was too soft,
too timid to quote Gable
She said ,"Your dreams aren't keeping the lights on.
If I see you writing again, your son and I will be gone."
He said, "I been writing this book for ten years.
I got a letter from the mayor. I won a certificate."
She said, "It's just paper. We can't eat it. It aint worth shit!
For six years you haven't been a father at all.
You got a son who can't even catch a damn ball.
You're worth a nickel as a husband.
As a father, not even a dime.
Where's a boy going in this world
Writing stories and rhymes?"
She tossed his unfinished poems on the kitchen floor
His bound manuscripts out the back door.
She said, "Horace, I'm warning you.
Get this work out the trash
You'll find a wedding ring in there too."
For three days those dreams festered in that trash
Covered with Pasta, cooking oil, Marinara sauce
Everything he had ever written was lost.
He watched the Sunny Hills Sanitation Company
Turn down 34th street and make a left at the corner.
One last time he tried to warn her.
He could barely hide his tears with his hands.
She said, "Now you can grow up and be a man."
Then that truck turned left on 35th street
Then it turned right
And just like those dreams, it disappeared from sight
Twenty years later
He sat in the Sunny Hills Convalescent home
Sick, lonely, old and alone
He couldn't even hold a pen
Or dial numbers on a phone
He had forgotten nearly every simile
Every rhyme and every metaphor.
And every few weeks the Reaper
Carried one of his friends out that door.
And though he couldn't remember
His favorite color or baseball team
The one thing he couldn't forget
Were those lyrical dreams.
In the dining room of the hospital he had a guest.
It took two nurses to get the feeble man dressed.
A nurse said, Mr. Horace, this is your son.
Twice he had to be reminded that he had one.
He tried to reply, but his words failed.
The young man said, "Dad, I have a writing degree.
I graduated with honors, from Yale.
But what the old man didn't know
Happened late in the night
Twenty years ago.
A young child
Went into that garbage can
Sorted through the pasta, salad, and uneaten bones.
And made those lyrical dreams his own.
And now those dreams live on.
Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016
I do not know?
See his work and one will know what is perfection,
See him walking and one will learn how to keep going,
See him talking and one will understand what it is to be polite,
See his life and one will recognize what is simplicity!
Some people are good, Some are great,
Some are called gold too,
But if he has to be counted anywhere,
He has to be put in the 24 karat category,
Not less than that, else it wont be fair!
He might not be a Celebrity,
But his deeds have gained him a lot of popularity!
He is never tired and hardly says ‘No’,
Always so energetic and ready on his toe,
Ever since I entered this family,
It is him, first, on whom I rely undoubtedly!
He helps everyone in whatever way he can,
He is therefore an ideal man!
Now on his 58th birthday, which is really very significant,
For Retirement is a lifetime achievement!
It’s time to pay tribute to a man who ‘loves and cares’ with no expectations,
He is certainly an epitome of 'commitment' and 'patience'!
Copyright © nilofar shaikh | Year Posted 2012