Long Childhoodfather Poems
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My grandfather on my father’s side, was a pecker-toothed sidle who raped his
daughter when she was just ten. He threw down vodka from an eternal well and took my father out to buy prostitutes when he was just fifteen... It was here that my father first learned the true value of a woman. Mercifully, a permanent steel brace got loose at the Pennsylvania steel mill where he worked and crushed Grandfather into a pool of blood and urine.
My father was a dried seed rattling in an empty gourd… he had grown up
hardened with leather-stiff roots exposed too long in the sun. My mother knew
that he wanted to rape me, so I kept guard with knives and ran away whenever I could. I went to bed fantasizing how to sneak into his bedroom and kill him with
the kitchen carving knife.
My older brother hadn’t adjusted well to the chaos either, so he put all his expectations and dreams into a matchbook and burned down three houses in the neighborhood. He secretly, robbed his friends of their valuable coin collections. He grew weary and confessed and was taken to a local Mental Hospital for evaluation. At fourteen, I needed a good stiff drink! I was transferred to two different foster care homes and grew up like a weed.
My mother Dolly was an auburn haired porcelain bisque, matt finished doll from a
discriminating collections of dolls... her father's dolls. She was not a witty woman
but silent, afraid and alone. She gave birth to three children who grew up like
wild dogs while Dolly made Betty Crocker weekends and otherwise TV dinners
until she grew tired... very tired.
One day the brothers were playing with Dolly tossing her back and forth…
like a ball, one to another... until we dropped her. Fragile, she shattered into pieces
on the gray cement patio. My father came out determined to put the pieces back
together but clumsily, he repeatedly stepped on Dolly crushing the refined
fragments into powdered dust.
all my life i have tried to please everyone.
I would do my chores with no fuss.
I knew what my consequences would be.
I laid my brothers clothes out for him at night.
It made me feel good inside.
I know he is older then me,
But we still needed a motherly figure you see.
I picked up the role, at about 6 years old.
to this day my brother depends on me.
I would try to be the daughter my father always wanted,
But some how it always got tangled in a web of misconception
My father was a cold man, a Hippocratic, and loved his mind games.
I was a pawn on his chess board.
I was there but not much was said to me.
If he felt like yelling it was always taking out on me.
He was raised where family meant everything,
if you could carry the last name.
I was not a boy, I could not full fill this wish of his.
My brother on the other hand, was the perfect fit.
My mother was buried deep in a bottle all day.
She never knew if we were coming or going.
she loved to yell and throw things.
A pathological lair she was.
So, when I am asked about my past.
I simply smile and say, "I will not speak of that."
The pain of going back is far to great.
Life has changed over the past few months
I have become stronger then I once was.
My parents have yet to win this battle they ignited.
I am speaking of the past like it was yesterday.
I am no longer ashamed to say that,
My parents walked away.
I am not sure who I would be today
If my parents had stayed.
The First Time I Saw My Father Drunk
By Elton Camp
In our home it always seemed fine
To have a store of beer and wine
Bottles of bourbon I began to see
It wasn’t wrong, it appeared to me
In time, my Mother began to deride
“You must keep that stuff outside.”
That a serious problem was growing
As a child, I had no way of knowing
The bottles that he hid in the hay
Full, only briefly, they would stay
Then off Father went to the store
And soon he came back with more
After a dance one Saturday night
When they came in, I heard a fight
“You were even to drunk to drive.
I don’t care whether you survive.”
Mother even had to help him walk
With a drunken slur he did talk
Mother then called out to me
“Come here. I want you to see.”
“His conduct you must not imitate.
Look and learn before it’s too late.”
It was truly just a horrible sight
And he vomited half the night
The next morning he wasn’t well
Although he had something to tell
“Last night I made myself a fool.
Never let alcohol your life rule.”
Don’t think that I’m going to say
That he never again did that way
Father still got drunk quite a bit
He knew Mother would have a fit
Only in their eighties did she force
Him to stop by threatening divorce
While moderate drinking isn’t wrong,
In our house, alcohol doesn’t belong
Past times have come,
they lurk within the darkness,
as I sit here fighting to continue on with my journey,
tears roll down my face thinking of....
the things that no longer exist.
Lost a Tia to death by drugs, a mother to abusive men and drugs,
a father to child molestation, a grandmother because I had a kid at fifteen.
I can't tell you how many times as a child I was abused,
how many schools and homes that I have been in.
No family support, so I do this on my own,
All I got is my pen and paper and that's all I need.
No tears can come for there is no emotions in my life.
Foster care for five years, two kids by the age of 17,
both wound up in homes with adopted parents,
How was I to raise them with no one on my side to help,
Family hates me, because I chose life over murder.
I don't understand how people can be that way yet claim to be Christians.
I worship my Father on High and sing praises to all.
Past times have come but now its time for me to defeat them once and for all
by using the power of God.
WINTER IS A VERY CHILLY SEASON,BUT ALSO IT BRINGS ME GOOD MEMORIES OF MY
DESEASED GRANDFATHER.AS IT SNOW, WE BOTH ARE HOLDING EACHOTHER CLOSE.
LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW,THE SNOW LOOKS AS IF IT MAY GRANT US A WISH.
IT SHINES LIKE A LIGHT,IT'S LIKE IT'S MAGICAL BECAUSE IT GETS ME THROUGH
THE NIGHT WITHOUT BEING FRIGHT.
AS I WAKE UP TO MUCH MORE SNOW,AND OF COURSE MY GRAND-DADDY'S ALREADY UP
AND OUT THE DOOR.
AS I STEP OUTSIDE,MY GRAND DADDY'S EYE'S WAS THE GREATEST SUPRISE.
AS THE ICE COLD SNOW JABS AGAINST MY FACE,I GOT READY TO BUT MY
GRAND FATHER SUDDENLY WIPED THE SNOW AWAY.
EVERY TOUCH HE LEFT ON MY FACE ON THAT VERY SPECIAL WINTER DAY CAN BE
TRACED,BUT NEVER ERASED.
THAT WINTER IS ONE SPECIAL SEASON THAT I CAN ADMIT
DID NOT GO WRONG,
AS THOUGH I BLINKED AND MY GRAND FATHER GONE.
WINTER IS VERY SPECIAL TO ME,AND THE REASON IS BECAUSE IT
REMINDS ME OF MY GRAND DADDY.
COLD,SHARP,AND WET SNOW IS WHAT I ENJOY THE MOST,
MY GRAND FATHER IS MY WINTER NATURE AND HE MAKES MY
WINTER GLOW AND SO MUCH MORE.......
Form:
wild eyed mother stares through glazing thoughts.
paying no attention to her child of war.
bastard father maker stands shunning light.
children fight back lakes of tears with new found might.
insult self redemption with your chosen hate.
steal the good samara ten's intentions and his offering plate.
bridges have not been built yet but still they swim.
across the oceans wilderness to comfort sin.
why is justice only seen in the eyes of the few.
justice chastised the boat and condemned it's crew.
tired eyed brother is the family's father now.
working in the maize until his legs give out.
broken sister lays down for ten men each day.
for food for the younger kids and not a cent of pay.
nature will forgive her but her neighbor's don't.
they stand in condemnation,as they scream and moan.
she teaches her younger siblings bye the midnight light.
for she understands the power of learning to read and right.
justice only taught her how to be lost too life.
that's why justice must now be chastised.
Form:
Who would have thought that life would lead
Onto trails that would lead to home in minutes
Except that home is no longer there anymore
The house is gone burned years ago and never rebuilt
The land is still there for one can't get rid of land
Except to haul it off inch by inch to another place
Then the open gapping hole would still be there
When going by, I still feel the spirit of the home
The life and energy of the place__the laughter
Now that I am domesticated as a plate
I desire to depend on someone who loves me
Like the family loved me then and held me close
Someone who is stronger who will lead me to feel
Feel secure and cared for making each day to be
Warm with understanding and all the love I can receive
One like the mother and father that occupied that home
A strong earthly person who could offer that love
Understanding, caring, commitment that of love
As the heavely Father offers to me each day
Only a dream for this is an impossibility...
Where I found myself
As a toddler causes me anguish
And quenches the fire he sets burning
He the father of us all
Those asleep and those ready to sleep
All I see and hear are words
Which demolishes current like hearts
Mine was no exception
Born with many words
But none to write
As pen we no longer see
My father sighs at the news
I know not why
He curses and rains abuses
On whom I know not
Maybe on that fowl
That threw away the last cup of water
In our household
Or maybe the rat
That ate our week’s meal
I believe he knows better
For he talks faster than I do
Even the gods are angry with
Whoever he rains abuses on
They have stopped the rain
And dried our farms
The sins of just a few
Have crippled us all
I heard my father say
Until he brings back all he took
He must chase protruding bellies in
Like my pregnant self
With numbered and named rips
Form:
I wish I were a child again - I would
tell my mother how important things are,
Things like hot chocolate on a cold night,
mud pies in the sun, learning how to skate,
I wish I could wish - as a child should,
and blow out a candle on a cake, have a cookie jar
in the kitchen filled with good things" bright
curtains letting the sun in, a white fence, a gate.
I wish I were little again - and I would
tell my father to smoke a pipe, sit in a big chair
and hold me on his lap, tell me a story,
and throw me up in the air, play games with me.
I would go back - if only I could,
and wish I had a father and mother to care
about the important things - the glory
of childhood is
Being a Child.
Patricia Langston-Moran
When I was about twelve years of age it was plain to see
That my father was quite dim not nearly as bright as me
Stupid words and inane sayings embarrassed me to hear
I cringed at what he’d say or do when I had friends near
‘Don’t talk with your mouth half full’; as we ate he’d say
‘Fill the bloody thing’; he’d add with laugh like asses bray
Then came the age twenty one and my eyes opened wide
As I listened to my father now with deep unbridled pride
Wisdom flowed from learned tongue upon my older ears
Amazed at all that he had learned in those nine short years
6th in Contest 'My Parent' by Francine Roberts