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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

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Poems are below...


New Son Poems

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

Carry On Son by Vitale, Mario
IN THE SON by Thornton, Ky
Whitney 2 : Prodigal Son by Callus, Paul
My Son by croft, karen
Jonah Son of Amittai by Horn, James
THE PROMISED SON HAS WON THE VICTORY by Rodrigues, Kim
The Son Of A Carpenter by Joshua, Adeyemi
Now Your Messing With A Son Of A Bitch by Vitale, Mario
Someone's Son by French, Jonathan
Once a Marine, Always a Marine, Forever my Son by Kiesling, Jennifer

View all new Son Poems

The Best Son Poems

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

As Flowers Crumble Collaboration with Silent One

Lullabies through tear filled eyes
It's truly, love at first sight
The bond is forged and galvanized
To hold forever tight

Each time you needed a hand
She always had one free
From then on, when in demand
As soft as she needed to be

No sacrifice was too great
A patient answer to every, "why?"
That look when you came home late
When you didn't come home, she'd cry

As flowers begin to crumble
your eyes look tired and hands so frail
Breaks my heart to see you stumble
as tears fall with your skin so pale

No one can ever take your place
nor replace your angelic love 
Your life is full of prestige grace
precious beauty like a white dove

Mum's sweet words flow like a fountain
such wisdom will always live on
Her love conquers the highest mountain
fills me with pride to be her son




    July 4 2017 
 Collaboration By Daniel Turner and Silent One


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017

Details | Son 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 | Create an image from this poem.

Between the words of my father

I tried my best 
To live between your cruel words
Yet there was no room
I felt less
Smaller than small
So why didn't I fit?

I wonder
Now that you are gone
Who's words had you borrowed?
Did the pain you gave to me come from another's broken heart?
Was it too much to bare?

I now have room at the end of your sentences.
Not forced within the confines of your spaces
Tracing the manicured pearls of your wisdom
You have not had the last word
I am not doomed to your hypothesis
I'm willing to dance on the edge
My cliff is of note
worthy of jumping from
For I am not Icarus 
There is no reason to fear the sun
Only your ice will melt from my wings

I do not wish to re-live your convoluted nightmare
The drifting of your mind
Those  barriers to my existence
Freedom at last
Yes
Freedom
At the end
Yes
At the end of your sentences.




The lesson I learned is that the only one who can define my being is me.
I also learned that painful words and curses can be passed on from generation to generation unless we put a stop to it. I thank God for the strength He provided me. I have been blessed beyond what I expected as a child. 


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2017

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

I Forgive You

     You lost my life.
     Sharp as a knife...
     You lost a lot of things.
     Your memory in my heart
     Still sings...

Today I gave you my secrets,
All of them, the ones from Egypt,
And those from Europe, slow motion
Swimming away across the Ocean.
I whispered in your ear
All you didn't want to hear.
    
     And...
     I forgive you,
     I forgive you.

The secrets of the life stolen
While you screech, eyes swollen
With tears of loss.
Both of us kneeling on moss;
I am not cruel, only want your love,
That one word you get so sick of.

     But...
     I will always forgive you,
     I will always forgive you.

Buried so deep inside,
Almost a stone I tried to hide.
I'll always be that seeking child
That wants to be reconciled.

     I lost you before I was born.
     Before I even opened my eyes

          I was forlorn.





***

April 8, 2017 
N/A in contest: Open Poetry Contest 2
Sponsored by: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Son 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 | 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 | 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 | 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 | 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




Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Son 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 | 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 | 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...






Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Son 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 | 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 | 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 | 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

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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 | Create an image from this poem.

Guardian Angels

Goodnight my dear boy and what's that you say?
You want me to chase the bad monsters away?
Well, I'll tell you a tale that may just be true
And if it's made up, it is done just for you...

I know you're afraid of the dark and the gloom
When you lie wide awake all alone in your room
'Scardy cats prowl and their tattle-tales pester
Goose bumps may prickle and worry-warts fester

Shadow-ghosts creep up and crawl to your cover
You roll on your side but then you discover
The thump in your pillowcase whispers too loud
So here's what I've done and I know you'll be proud...

I've met with the monster man under your bed
He thinks you will find he is not much to dread
He just needs a friend and to know that you care
So if you reach down he'll shake hands from his lair

I've found where that boogie man hides in the wall
He's cramped and alone and he waits for your call
He believes you're convinced he is ugly and mean
And hold him to blame when you have a bad dream

Your monster man's fierce and has razor-sharp teeth
But he understands things that may stir underneath
Your boogie man knows what you don't want to find
And what's around corners and hidden behind...

They'd like to come out and tell you a story
(Perhaps something scary but nothing too gory)
Sit up and talk with them late into night
Come morning they'll gladly slip back out of sight

But at night they'll grow strong to protect like they should
To face down your fear and show evil what's good
Stand watch while you sleep, they will stay by their mark
If you wake you might catch their eyes glow in the dark...

It's then as you grow you may find you walk bolder
With two fearsome friends striding close by your shoulders
They'll go anyplace as a general rule
(But maybe you'd better not bring them to school)

If witches and dragons can streak through the sky
Then monsters and boogie men surely must fly!
At the edge of your sleep (when you just start to doze)
Whisper the password and wiggle your toes...

And they'll sweep you away to soar like a dove
Over the rooftops to heavens above!
Up into orbit to your own private place
High on a mountaintop floating in space

Sit back and relax with a satisfied grin
Laughing and singing as you watch the earth spin
Hum along while your boogie man growls a brave tune
Count stars while your monster man howls at the moon












Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2009

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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

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LOVELINESSS

Looking at your misshapen little red face,
only a mother can appreciate the beauty when seeing her
very precious baby for the first time. 
Eyes filled with happy tears as I
looked at your blonde hair and blue eyes and
inspected your tiny little fingers and toes.
Never had I seen a more beautiful child –
everything about you was simply perfect!
Soon you were sleeping peacefully,
safe in the arms of your adoring mother.

Contest: Loveliness Acrostic
Sponsor John Hamilton
02~15~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

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The Door To Forever

It was such a small thing
It happens all the time
Fathers and sons disagree
Fathers and sons argue
Fathers and sons say things
Things they don't really mean...

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, that door to forever

the last time I didn't say goodbye 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…








Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015

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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

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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) 






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


Copyright © Abe Lopez | Year Posted 2009