Best Sonlost Poems
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>My brothers Son was lost at sea,
His body was never found.
The coast guard searched up and down the coast,
The crew they think had drowned.
Trent was just turned twenty-three,
Full of life and had high expectations.
He wanted to earn his own way,
Not have to rely on his relations.
He got a job on a fishing boat,
On the ocean they did go.
Dragging was the means use to catch the fish,
It some times went very slow.
When they failed to return that night,
The coast guard were asked to look.
They looked up and down the coast,
But not one thing came in sight.
The boat was never found that day,
It was presumed, that it had sunk.
It seemed awful strange though ,
There was no storm or no junk.
As the search went on one was found,
Drifting just of shore.
The others were never found,
Only to be seen no more.
The families gather togather ,
To pray for thier lost souls.
For the fishermen who lost thier lives,
Whos hearts were pure as gold.
Preface: A poem written to my youngest step-son, whom along with his brother, I raised and
consider my very own sons. I presented this to him on his graduation from college.
Flesh & Blood
One cold and snowy winter day,
a man met two young brothers.
Man fell in love with both those boys,
man then fell for their mother.
A silent promise whispered,
vowed to love both as his own,
man set sail just like Columbus,
to places foreign and unknown.
Man worked on science projects,
and he helped with book reports,
he took the boys for haircuts,
and signed them up for sports.
For boyhood rites of passage,
man gave Swiss-Army knives,
boys carved away some hours
of the best days of their lives.
Man sent the boys to private schools,
because he knew it would be best,
especially for the oldest boy,
who wasn’t the least bit studious.
The younger boy more scholarly,
never swayed by fad or crowd,
both schoolboys very different,
both made man very proud.
Man seldom missed the brother’s games
for he was their proudest fan,
but concealed amongst the hockey bags,
was the gift they gave the man.
Being important to a child
was worth more than a priceless Monet,
being dependable as dark skies each night
and high tide every day.
Like a ship that lost it’s mooring,
man lost track of where he’d been,
but was saved from likely wreckage,
by the gift they gave to him.
The boys made the man responsible,
and the surprising reality,
is what brings out the worst in some men,
brought the best man out of me.
Of my flesh, you may not be,
you may not share my blood,
but deep inside my heart and soul,
burns a father’s sacred love.
Winning a million dollars,
would dwarf in comparison,
to the treasures you’ve bestowed on me
since you became my son.
c Copyright 2006