Best Fathering Poems


There Are No Bounds To Where We Poets Go

Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask. 
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind. 
        
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.

Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.

On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.

We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.


June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.

flames

flames into flames
      flesh sizzling flesh
           cores consuming cores
pips crinkling into load-shedding 
      emotions into grains of salt
          light across spacetime
             heat melting  
h e a t 
       street strength simmering 
            sweating scalding 
sensation has no 
crystal drops 
     rooibos tea faraway 
          nothing to drink except 
            our own fluid feuding 
hot waves raging roaring
     consummating
         burning consumables
dissipating veins with 
                   our own veins
burnishing flesh...black dust
  past  
        present  
                      f u t u r e  
waves upon waves of
      electric light electronic wires
        our Light liquidates
         iron steel 
from infinity 
rumbling inferno
 
black charcoal transmutes
           into blackberries  
to suck
like nipples nurturing 
eradicating fleeing 
                              fumbles 
fleecing fear fast
red organs rise
            in spirals of voiceless 
words fathoming 
wrath is 
               over
or perhaps to come

 last few steps of
          licking flames orange purple 

all is feedback 
         flammable 
surrounded by raven rain
       red reducing 
                            red oil
blood blessing blood
in a BloodMoon of vanities 
smelling of 
               vanilla and poppies 
waving in war winds
                containing OverSouls
overall is overall 
     forms 
fathering 
     dripping salt 
in an unsung faith 

unknown spaces seen as Beloved

Mothers

MOTHERS


Nightly loosing sleep when you screamed,
yet the next day when you smiled, she beamed.
Watching you proudly as you grew,
patiently retrieving objects you threw.
Many times went hungry while you had enough,
’Cause most of the times things were rough.

Sacrificed and sent you to school,
even though sometimes you acted like a fool.
Watching over you when you were sick,
not believing others who thought it was a trick.
Instinctively guiding you to be right,  
to restrain yourself and not getting into a fight.

Worried when you were out late,
not knowing that you were with your date.
Defended you in the face of trouble,
also fathering you, acting as double.
Taken for granted repeatedly on mothers’ days,
yet, caring enough to mention you when she prays.


The Fathers

The holders of custom and bearings
The teachers of manners and sayings 
The steerers of the leanings and standings
The givers of surnames and blessings
The fabric that makes priests and kings 
Are fathers in their fatherhood and fathering 

You are both shield and guide
In whom sons and daughters confide
You are both scion and pride
Of the society you are placed to abide
You are both the breadth and stride 
Of your kind’s spread; far and wide 

Be today celebrated but ever honored 
For all you have selflessly offered 
Good and faithful service unwaivered 
May your steps be Divinely ordered 
And likewise armed and armoured
For whatever storm to be weathered 

God be present in your sunshine and rain 
God give you joy for your pain
May all your toils bring you gain
Scale hills as though traversing plains
And all in all firmly remain 
Godly and righteous without stain

HAPPY FATHERS DAY.

K. Muitherero

Premium Member Hidden Beneath

Never did a fire so fierce
Blow across the land
That same land
His heart did grow
Nourished by his sweat and toil
No more
The morning mist
Will hear his weathered voice 
Call his horse
Com'orn
His mark
Has been scorched from its soil
And how that land
Greens, grays
And blacked haze
With gusts of wind
And rumpled hills
The fathering face
Of this dead man
Hidden beneath

Premium Member Fun Facts From Jack

A goldfish has a memory of about three seconds
Very much like senior citizens I'd say
They're often seen aimlessly walking the streets
Wearing their dear wife's negligee

A sneeze has been recorded at travelling over
One hundred forty feet per second
Fast enough to knock a buzzard off a poop wagon
An amazing feat without question

During an average person's lifetime, one will eat
About sixty thousand pounds of food
That's the weight of about six full grown elephants
Embarrassing to be seen in the nude

In Tokyo, I'm told they sell toupees for your dog
Come on, that's just downright bizarre
Way back, “pants” was considered a bad word
That's one of the strangest facts by far

Only one person in two billion will live to be
One hundred and sixteen or older
Wonder if these geezers are still sexually active
Does the fire of passion still smoulder

The longest flight of a rooster ever recorded
Was about thirteen seconds they say
Chasing all the pretty hens around the barnyard
Clucking, “ride 'em cowboy, olé!”

Did you know Ramses Condoms were named
After the pharaoh Ramses the Second
This gentleman surely didn't use any such protection
For fathering 160, he's a legend

If you ever find yourself in a crocodile's jaws
Push your thumbs into its eyeballs
The croc will scream and immediately let go
Then run away before you get mauled


© Jack Ellison 2013


Premium Member Incarnations

p aul, to hear his name reminded one of apostles
a n ordinary man given to extra- ordinary actions
u n dieing in his legacy to children and the needy
l aughter always edged the corners of his eyes
n ewman, what a named revelation, Paul Newman
e nergized by a thirst for the fullest life
w as there ever a more complete man, this legacy
m arried for fifty years to Joan, fathering six children
a nd still one of the best actors the screen has ever seen
n ewman, a man’s man, a woman’s dream and a  star.

January 26, 1925 – September 26, 2008

Thankfulness Is

Applied Appreciation…
Bold Benevolence…
Concentrated compassion…
Divine discernment…
Enthusiastic energy…
Fantastic fathering…
Godly guidance…
Happy humanity…
Individual illumination…
Jovial journey…
Kindred Kindness…
Luminous love…
Majestic mothering…
Nurtured nestling…
Omnipresent observation…
Prospering population…
Quietly questing…
Releasing resistance…
Shinning souls…
Teaching thanksgiving…

This Girl This Boy

This girl was shy
This girl was introverted
This girl was afraid
This girl felt alone most of the time
A few close friends were her saving grace

This boy was active
This boy was wired
This boy was different
This boy felt alone most of the time
God was his saving grace.

This girl played sports
This girl studied hard
This girl made no enemies
This girl loved to write
The pen was her instrument for expression

This boy was awkward
This boy got by
This boy was involved with his church
This boy loved to be on stage
Acting and debate were his means of expression

This girl had dreams
This girl had hopes
This girl had fears
This girl followed her friends to college

This boy had dreams
This boy had hopes
This boy had fears
This boy followed his father into the military

While this girl was coming out of her shell
This boy was learning survival methods
While this girl was exploring dating
This boy was fathering a baby 
While this girl was experiencing her first failure
This boy was trying to stay alive in the Persian Gulf

This girl grew into a well-educated, mature, but very lost woman
This boy grew into a well rounded, divorced, military father
Shortly after they met, this woman and man pledged their love for each other

This woman fell in love with this man’s confidence, humor, and sincerity
This man fell in love with this woman’s beauty, compassion, and wit
This woman and this man vowed to spend the rest of their lives together

This man made promises
This woman believed in him
This man made more promises
This woman began to doubt him

This couple communicated well
This couple shared deep truths
This couple was honest with each other,
but not with themselves

This couple had good intentions
This couple loved their family
This couple lived beyond their means
This couple began to perish

This woman had lost her husband
This man had lost his wife
This couple was determined not to lose their friendship
This couple was focused on the happiness and well being of their children

This couple would not simply “go through the motions”
This couple would be honest with each other and themselves
This couple would work as a team for the first time in their lives
This couple would be happy living apart

This couple would always love each other

Dehydration Quenched On An Island With Females - Part 2

gratifying grand PooBah gnashing happily. How envious 
eye feel. This generic guy hallucinates (walled within his 
lovely bones) incredulously, jealously, knowing lackluster 
marriage never ordained plentifully, quintessentially, royally, 
satisfying throbbing testosterone undulating vibrantly within 
xman yawping zen. Ah know this phallus fantasy tubby 
merely a whet pipe dream, yet no logic can extirpate 

frenziedly gyrations glum husband images. Just kindling 
lasciviousness massages nude oeuvre provoking quaking, 
rip-snorting tooling uniting Venus, with xing yummy zone, 
absolute beauties, bunnies cozying dear Emir, fathering 
Hugh's illustrious joys, keeping libido murmuring, nesting 
on papa's queued rocket ship, thrusting uber vintage weasel, 
*** y zapping adroitly buoyant consecrated dick, Ernst 

found Grafenberg hallelujah, injunction jerking like mad 
naturally oiled pussy, quivering red redoubt stimulated 
the unavoidable Vagina, whereat xyz attainment brought 

******** delight eventually fomenting gusto, heavenly 
induced juiced Kung Lee masterfully negotiating ******, 
penultimate quest regarding sexual torquing, ululating 
vocalization wailing women XCI yogi Zorro

absent, bye Casanova, deemed expert ******** great Hefner, 
honorable Hugh invictus, joyousness kept legacy maintained, 
now...only phantom quietly rubs shoulders, thighs, ubiquity 
vibrant viz World Wide Web.

A Father Is

A true character
Who replenishes all of our needs 
That holds us best and picks you up
Even at your weakest moments
So that we do not go hungry 
Or sleep unclothed 
He who gives us the ability to find strength
When setbacks are apart of life 
I was taught to value myself 
And the solid lessons in limitations that this journey would bring 
He believes the depth in his being
This creation would never be broken
Because an emphasis on fathering would never be absent
I am a creation in the making 
To measure up to something 
Which he molded me 
Until I know all he knows 
He is exactly what he is needed to be
A father, who will die to protect
A man with nothing to lose
One with no words
That speaks so much volume
And a smile in trouble
Who gathers strength from distress
To place his family as the most important thing in his life
He is  cautious with the actions and decisions 
He makes so he won't have to be responsible for their pain
He is all

Prepare My Heart

Verse 1
A movie taught me my calling
fiction brought angels thru cinema
climax's rise by acts falling
confusion's release thru a spiritual enema

Banging sounds can hurt the ear
its music carousing the purpose of pain
composing strength spawned by your fear
loud mad pestering aches essemble the sane

Chorus
Now, my greatest wish is for my best
to be what it takes to really try
for my strongest effort to manifest
life of what holds me back won't die

Verse 2
Now, its very clear what I need to do
but many long pauses formed hesitation
the wavering breeds delay of all new
fathering the burden of action's frustration

annuling growth, thus increasing the wait
patterns discouragement, casting doubt
of my ability to answer my fate
so I get lazy and begin to cop out

Chorus
Now, my greatest wish is for my best
to be what it takes to really try
for my strongest effort to manifest
life of what holds me back won't die

Reprise
I see how you try I know
champions reap what only training will sow
I won't cultivate how I need to grow
I won't prepare my heart for the go

Verse 3
Im lleft to my prayer to be willing
I feel the peace of God as he gives me strength
to activate self with His filling
to live my dreams and survive wait's length

Premium Member My Biggest Fan

The Marine’s emblem tattooed on his arm,
His wit and humor, part of his charms;
You wouldn’t mistake him for a Renaissance Man,
But when it comes to my poetry he’s my biggest fan.

A single child fathering seven offspring;
Never denying us anything;
Sending us to college, paying the tuition;
Preparing us for life was his mission.

Thank you, Dad, for reading my poems,
And sending me a comment or two:
I guess after 300 the time has come
To write one saying, Dad, I love you.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

Pens Century

Some have the right to bear arms 
But I appreciate pens rather then commotions,
 Homicides, aiding in brawls,
 Or in middle class genocides
, car alarms, sirens in the distant horizon
 Of my suburban neighborhood
 Hearing echoes of shots firing. Some folk’s fiend for resources
 I creep and hunger for lines and ink,
 Rather than the staggering alcoholic
 Begging for free drinks. 
Lines can heal hollow insides,
 Congested with negativity
 I the young chap run to creativity.
 I never ran home but rather run to those black and white pages,
 Pages that don’t judge my past activity
 or the thoughts in my noggin,
 Knocking down metaphors calm my soul
 I climbed Mount Everest,
 I’ve survived marches, hostile riots,
 Doors slammed in my face
 Which are buried in the red sand in my left hand stapled together with leather 
bonding,
 Paperclips and rubber bands.
I breathe to write, 
the privilege to breathe free oxygen purchased from Senegal and western coastal 
castles
 I play with canvases and paint like Monet’s pastels
 Equivalent to my revelation of secret memories
 Stored and lived from three years less than ¼ a century 
I could have been a minor in the upper Marlboro penitentiary writing letters to 
mamma,
 or fathering multiple of multiples of seeds
 Caused by the seduction of the cunning black mambas
, but I chose the right to tote a composition book and a few pencils,
 I respect the past 
but refuse to emulate and imitate
 the other writers tracing history
 as a toddler colors outside the lines
, or using stencils.
 There is a new manuscript that I carry under my arm,
 that reminds me that the third times a charm.

It's Just Too Late

Everyday, the thought of death is stuck in my mind,
Through the violence, The poverty,
The racism, the hatred, the war,
The unhappiness, the instability,
The crimes, and the sadness in this world.

Lives torn on the daily,
As I sit, comforted on my chair,
“It’ll resolve itself.
I haven’t even helped… barely”

As I lay asleep, a nightmare with news voices of the situation,
Circled my head like that of a tornado’s rotation,
All talking at the same time,
Of a recent story about an unfortunate death.

“News of the death of Eric Garner, a black man who...”
“The chilling details to the story…”
“Recently, Michael Brown was a victim of a police-related death,
News of Eric Garner, a man fathering 6 children…”
“America, listen up, the white cops have a plan,
To lie, and keep their reputation in dignity.”

Then, I woke up.

Found myself screaming in the hotel room,
Awoken from my sleep, by a vivid nightmare,

“I’ve had enough with this nonsense!
I’m tired of hearing of people suffering,
Of people dying, of death tolls rising,
Of young kids war-fighting,
Of the government lying,
Of the justified conspiracy theories being shut down,
Of.. Not helping... the suffering!”
So I went running... for answers.

Tell the whole world I know it’s too late, 
Boys and girls, I’m feeling brain-sick,
Why, oh why, did I have to wait,
Oh well, oh well, It’s all just a gimmick.

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