There was a silence then a group gasp
As I bent over the coffin of my dad
He was murdered in Atlanta Georgia
Shot in the head as he left a store
But such details matter no more
I noticed his curly hair and miss his eyes
His humor his smile his stare
I know his complexion should be fair
But for the mortician’s makeup
He was put back together
Like a puzzle with death’s muzzle
Not thinking of that in the moment
I planted a warm kiss on his cold cheek
It would be the last
star in the sky
there before me
I thought would always be
now gone
to a sky
You left your body six years ago
But you left us long before
The family still cries oh boo hoo
Tears long I have no more
You lived in town and never phoned
Empty promises from you dad
hopes and dreams my eyes had shoned
crushing silence just too bad
My granite hart you have made
Like the rest of me
A better father made you fade
A new self I became to be
Years later we find your secret life
Stranger friends morning their loss
Families and five times wife
All forgotten to find new boss
Through their fake tears I miss you not
I remember who you were
Safety silence the family dare not shot
My retaliate might leave us bare.
I tasted leaves
the season of aged skin
Below me was the ground
gray in pieces
At George Akens
I saw us sittin
in a dull orange booth
sippin long cool drinks
and eatin chicken
down to the bone
and talkin about the springs
when we went fishin
in the close past
we could only partly see
us and the thing
we were to leave with
in our dusty boxes
I clung to the memory
as we have a parent
when we were young
and afraid to let go
and be brave
Around me were people
blurred as ghosts
those at your grave
I saw through the rain
I am standing ready. Your coat I will not wash
Until I see your eyes, for it smells like you.
I need to take a whiff of it so I can remember.
I am standing ready to see you walk into the house,
To swing your grandchildren up into the air,
To hear your laugh again.
To watch you smother your food in ketchup
Making my mother, your wife, cringe.
I am standing ready to have you smoke in the house.
I would not say a word this time, knowing it is only for a bit.
I am standing ready
To hear you use inappropriate language, and to become
irritated when the children pick it up.
I am standing ready to see your smile,
which is also my smile.
I am standing ready to hear your stories
from Heaven, to find out what you have been
doing for the past nine years, Daddy.
I am standing ready,
For I miss you so....
The Son of Love’s Union
Two hearts swelled to twice their size the day that you were born
As we counted, very gently, ten fingers and ten toes
then your daddy sweetly touched your little turned up nose
Two hearts fell in love with our new squirming bundle of joy
Wrinkled pink skin did not deter our feelings within
As tiny hands grasping our fingers gave our world a spin
Two hearts, joined in love, now have two children between
As father, mother, sister and brother round out the score
Only death could break the bond with these children we adore
By: Debra Squyres for the “Gerber Baby” members contest.
Note: This poem was written from a photo of my husband and I after our son was born. I’m in the hospital bed holding him; his blanket is unwrapped so we can see all of him. I remember us counting his tiny fingers and toes and my husband being so choked up with love and pride, he reached down and simply touched his little nose. This was our first son, second child. Sadly, death did break the physical bond, but not the bond of love of Son for father. Deeply cherished photo.
A man beyond his years
Lay dying in his tears
Of past and nevermore
Bleak death beyond the door
Through raging eyes they flow
The tears I so well know
As they are mine and flow like wine
On my soul bleak death shall dine
He growed to be a shepard and a man of faith and hope.
He healed the sick and feed the poor and taught people to cope.
A mother cried for the death of her son.
But to our heavenly father he had won.
He walked and taught Gods word to all mankind.
The people that he saved his words did not mind.
A mother cried for the death of her son.
But to our heavenly father he had won.
He was nailed to a cross and he died for our sins.
Buried in a tomb and in three days he rose again.
A mother cried for the death of her son.
But to our heavenly father he had won.
Teresa Skyles
Entered in Gwendolynn "What Easter means to me"contest
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