Childhood Father Poems

Hey Dad!

Hey Dad! Is that you knocking at the door outside?
I'm excited to let you know how great was my first horse ride.
Mom was waiting...

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Every day I wake up,
And every day I remember
The way you left me with no warning
Fleeing like a dog off its leash
It was my 13th...

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Adored sister, dry the warm tears
flowing from these gleaming eyes:
let them dazzle more than jewels:
they are dedicated to all sweet mothers
who live for their sons,...

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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...

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You are locked away in a frozen mist
Your hand once warm upon my knee, my phantom limb—
the sky atop your shoulders I kissed.

You were never...

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To be a strong man is a lesson to learn
We must deal with heartache after we are born

No sorrow, no remorse for any man
It must...

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Daughter of the Sandman 

War-story woman stands astride 
the country now,
book-store tour bleary now,
author hands aching 
from signing the $20.99
paperback professing her father’s 
Marne Corps...

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My Dear Son,
It’s March
I can already hear you—
small feet like birds’ wings
fluttering through the air
skipping, hopping, laughing
chasing me chasing you

your laughter—
a chorus that fills the...

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Father
I feel so good to be loved by you
Also father
 I must tell you that
I need to be loved by somebody
And that somebody is you
Father
Also...

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As I look into his hazel eyes,
Unfolds a story about his past life.
He was thirteen,
Leaving his life behind,
In exchange for a brighter future,
Putting on the...

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The Lie

I am an insect waiting to be squashed!

I stare hard at the ground
as if fascinated, enthralled by it
while, above, eyes of cold-cobalt  
wait...

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In a shadowed nook where memories sleep,
An old wooden guitar, its secrets to keep,
A relic of joy, of laughter and tears,
A symphony echoes, transcending the...

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Our Maureen sits,
At an old kitchen table
She’d say: “I love you,”
If she were able
But she missed her chance,
And took to the bottle
She cried herself sober,
And...

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I am a son of this boundless country man,
I've come to tell the songs of the steppe rather.
When I stride on the soil of my...

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It’s been years;
they are gone—
or perhaps they were never really there.
Just an illusion I crafted,
woven from the threads of longing,
veiled by the mist of my...

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