Best Father Son Poems
It's raining again, grey neon skies,
washing away suppressed surfaces,
to reveal unhealed wounds,
to scars the eyes cannot see
sometimes they bleed.
Some say words heal,
but I resist to express them,
because I'm afraid of my vulnerabilities,
anxious about tears I've never cried.
You only see the smile,
no one remembers that naive boy,
waiting at the window
for the shepherd who forgot his flock,
and he was no black sheep
if only I could reach him now
so he would not grow up like he did not belong,
stop searching for something,
he did not know how to find.
Stop composing that melancholic symphony,
recycling emotions, he did not understand,
I would tune his piano keys,
repair his violin's broken strings,
but
there are too many silent secrets,
blood stained walls will never reveal.
You left me behind,
with an empty toy box,
taking with you childhood hopes,
so ensued a vacuum of darkness -
sucking me deeper into confusion.
I remember watching you walk away,
along a path of overgrown weeds.
If it was not for the gift of mum's marbles,
I would not have laid an alternative path,
creating my protective bubble,
so I could float away, from all the troubles
until I lost them too.
Tell me father,
how was I to become a man?
You pushed me upon my knees,
like a cherry blossom in the wind.
A victim of your sins,
struggling to rise in adolescence,
I kept faith in the path of marble,
grateful for the guidance of my bubble.
After years of silence
upon your final sighs,
watching you die without words,
tears exploded for a stranger,
forgiving broken promises,
forgetting your crimes -
cursing stubbornness and bitterness,
thinking maybe it was me,
not just you
questions that will never be answered.
Today I stand before your bed of marble,
no need for a bubble, I feel no emotions.
After all I am a product of my childhood,
and you were a result of your own.
Silent One
18 August 2019
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.
"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and
can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words"
~ CS Lewis
If ever I don't know your name
recall these words that I now write:
no season ever stays the same -
fall yields to winter, day to night.
If ever I forget your face -
though hard to fathom now, dear child,
I ask you to recall the days
we walked on trails through canyons wild.
Those nights we camped under the stars
and filled our lungs with mountain air,
the trips we took in vans or cars
while singing songs from here to there.
Remember beach days, Sunday hikes,
or at the lake shore skipping stones,
those Saturdays we rode our bikes
for donuts or for ice cream cones.
I hope you won't become too sad
nor let my absence cast a pall,
for I will always be your dad
I pray our good times you'll recall.
Now go and make new memories -
in moving on, you play your part.
Sing soft our favorite melodies,
I'll sing along deep in your heart.
written 25 June 2022
Shimmering silhouettes haunt.
Shadow stands still,
observing his soul drift towards
the tree of melancholy.
Its morbid image stands silent,
but screams inside the mind.
I could write a million pensive poems,
yet the pen could never express,
how emotions remain unexplained,
because suppressed silent theories
and words left unspoken mean
regretful raindrops fall to the
rhythm of each somber sigh.
Tears create shallow streams,
but still we remain submerged.
Eight years on and I wonder,
if we will stay here forever.
Simple Musing
Silent One
18 November 2018
The father you do not know,
loved you since the day you were born.
Held you carefully in his arms
and promised to always keep you warm.
The father you do not know,
never wanted you to see him weak.
He held you up so high,
so you could reach the sky.
The father you do not know,
sacrificed his own needs.
Even when he was broken and tired,
he ensured you got what you desired.
The father you do not know,
hid his own personal achievements.
His heart only cared about your progress
and was so jubilant in your success.
The father you do not know,
was silly to be so stubborn.
He found it difficult to explain
his dysfunctional sorrow and pain.
He hid it all inside,
you thought it was his pride,
but it was his inner child,
who made him feel exiled.
The father you do not know,
still sang your childhood song.
He was once your hero so strong,
until you thought he had done you wrong.
The father you do not know,
left this world today.
Whispered your name with his last breath,
I hope he finds his peace in death.
(For Dad ... I love you and miss you, and time doesn't help)
~
Of all the loved ones chosen for that final task that saints abhor,
I wouldn't head your list, I'm sure -
your eyes, then staring, empty ...
I sat beside your deathbed, lone, and counted each dry, rattled moan,
the hours ached for seeds, unsown -
with your eyes staring, empty ...
Why was I chosen for this fate that put your end upon my plate?
a blessing, dear, but FAR too late -
now that your eyes stare, empty ...
No more, your prince of ill demands I walked you God-ward, hand-in-hand,
there are no footprints in the sand -
just eyes still staring, empty ...
Soft lullabies, I sang you, tender, meant to quell a well-earned bender,
closeness stamped "Return To Sender" -
dear eyes just staring, empty ...
You squeezed my hand, then let it go, let one last breath out, long and slow,
though you had left us LONG ago -
with your eyes staring, empty ...
At night, I lay me down to sleep and pray the nightmares never creep,
still, what I find there, dark and deep -
are eyes still staring, empty ...
Your sparkling eyes ... now empty.
Verse 1
His coat is torn his
shoes are thin
The cold cuts deep beneath his
skin
Little boy coughs small
hands that shake
Winter's breath is much to hard
To hard to take.
Verse 2
Sidewalk echoes silent
prayers
People pass but no one
cares
Cardboard kingdom borrowed
time
Every step is a mount-
Mountain climbed.
Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he holds his boy so
close
Chorus 1st Ending
Runs through streets to bring him
home. (1x repeat back to beginning of chorus)
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son, we're going
home."
Verse 3
Once had a home once had a
plan
Once held hope in calloused
hands
But fate’s a thief it moves much too
fast
Dreams dissolve like breath on
Stained kissed glass.
Chorus
Bridge
And he sings a lullaby
so low
Soft as the falling falling
Angel snow
A father’s love is his sheltering
Wings of warmth
Even when the nights are
Broken broken and torn.
Verse 4
"Daddy I’m tired my chest feels
tight"
His voice is weak his skin much too
white
Stars above blur in his
sight
The world fades into endless
Endless cold night.
Partial Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he lifts his boy so
close
Runs through streets…..to bring him
home.
Final Verse
He stumbles down an empty
street
The world is ice beneath his
feet
He kneels beside the frozen
City of stone
Whispers "Son… we’re finally
Finally home."
Chorus
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son
we're finally
home."
Outro
The snow drifts soft the
Sunday morning gray
No one stops and no one
Left to pray
Two souls lost in winter’s
hold
Together now, for-
ever and ever
In a City Frozen cold
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
oh come, my dear little wee one
what a long, full day you've had
this is the last that you'll see sun
but please, now, don't you be sad
the sun, just like you, can be shy
though it may never seem in a rush
it will soon give a kiss to the sky
to say its good night with a blush
~
my dear little wee one
do not make a peep
blow a kiss to the sun
as you both welcome sleep
the moon and the stars
will dance with the morn
to spindle dreams, sweet
'til a new day is born
~
oh come, my dear little wee one
it's time to make ready for bed
the blush of the heavens has begun
just like you, its cheeks turn to red
the sun works so hard in the daytime
so it just needs to rest for a while
all day it shines bright in your playtime
but is there every morning to smile
~
my dear little wee one
don't whisper a sound
blow a kiss to the sun
you're both slumber-bound
the moon and the stars
will dance 'til you wake
to spin your dreams, sweet
to the morrow's daybreak
~
oh come, my dear little wee one
as the stars wink pink high above
find your noggin a sky's cloudy pillow
bundled warm in my blanket of love ...
~
my dear little wee one
do not parlay your cry
blow a kiss to the sun
as the eve draws nigh
the moon and the stars
will dance thru the night
to spin your dream, sweet
'til a dawning day's light ...
and remember - I love you ...
with all ... my ... might.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Nursery Rhyme 5" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
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.
It 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, and I’ll complain.
Letting you go, it’s all my pain.
I am with you, with morning dawn.
Kissing your shadow 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
You kept your faith with cannons flaming
when cowards left, their souls ablaze.
You kept your trust--thy will proclaiming--
from none but death to sing your praise.
Your word has always been its treasure
when pain and suffering claimed their due.
You never sought a languid pleasure
from less than what you knew was true.
You always treasured those in passing,
just as those whose hearts you held.
Your bond to life is everlasting
far beyond what grace compelled.
Your legacy is yet to be written;
the end is not what you have done.
It's toll is measured in lessons given
and lived with pride by this fathers son.
If Poetry Contest
Sposored by Silent One
10/18/2018
1st. Place
Between Your Words
Dad
I tried my best
to live between your cruel words
Yet there was no room
I felt less
smaller than small
Like a comma that didn't fit
a period in the wrong place
a question not deserving an answer
I wonder
Now that you are gone
Who's words had you borrowed?
Did the pain you gave me
come from another's broken heart?
Was it too much to bear?
I now have room at the end of your sentences.
Not forced within the confines of your spaces
No longer force fed the 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 of possible
My cliff is of note
worthy of jumping from
For I am not Icarus
I have no reason to fear the sun
Only your ice will melt from my wings
I do not wish to relive your convoluted nightmare
The drifting of your mind
Those barriers to my existence
Freedom at last!
Yes freedom at the end of your sentences.
Dedicated to anyone who has been caught between words.
There lies my heart,
Quite ragged, torn -
My father passed
This brumal morn ...
How ruthless came
This face of death,
Warm on my cheek,
His last, soft breath ...
Yet blessed, was I,
Thru grand design,
To walk him home,
His hand ... in mine ...
Oh treasure, sweet,
The folks you love -
Too brief the flame,
Burns life, thereof.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Select 8, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
* This was read at Dad's service on December 10, 2019, and published in the local paper. He and I were never close, and he had never held my hand until the photo above, (though he was unconscious and never again awake). It is the last picture taken of him. Despite our distance, I was honored to be the one with him when he passed. *
( I love you, Dad ... I'll never know a better man, in every sense of the word ).
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
“Why do the Rams behave violently?”
The little boy queried of his father.
“They need all their might to fight the Jaguars,
But Jags are fast, don’t know why they bother.”
“And why do Broncos try to beat up on Colts?
Wouldn’t this be much like you hitting me?”
The unhappy father just shook his head
“It’s competition, son, you just don’t see.”
“Daddy, this is not what I hoped to find
At a zoo like other children describe.”
“The football zoo is better than others
Some animals here throw games for a bribe.”
“But you told Mom we would see a real zoo,”
The youngster groaned, sadly eying the field.”
“Please just tell Mom you saw animals play
If she learns where we went, my fate is sealed.”
* For Barbara Gorelick's "Zoo" competition