Long Upliftingdad Poems
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My palms would sweat. I’d get physically sick.
Why was I always the last one they’d pick?
There were times I would not be selected at all,
for a physical game, I was pretty darn small.
I watched as they’d point, whisper, and scheme;
avoid if they could choosing me for their team.
My Dad told me, “Son, God made you this small,
to prove it’s not height that makes someone tall.”
So, he set up a goal post, and bought me a tee.
He told me, “Success would be all up to me.”
I practiced my kicking whenever I could.
I worked very hard ‘till I got pretty good.
I’ll never forget that hot summer day,
tryouts for high-school to see who would play.
The teasing began as I stepped on the field.
My jersey so big, they laughed and they squealed.
The coach even grinned, as I heard him say,
“This is not a good sport for peewees to play.”
The practice was brutal, even more than I thought.
But then, towards the end, at last came my shot.
Coach explained how important a kicker would be.
Last season they had lost four games under three.
He placed the ball down on the thirty-yard line,
forty-yards from the goal I had claimed to be mine.
There must have been twenty or more who had tried,
all woefully short as the coach merely sighed.
With hands on his head he looked to the sky.
I was the last to step up and ask, “Can I try?”
Everyone laughed, ‘till he shouted, “Enough!”
then mockingly said to me, “Show us your stuff.”
As I carefully positioned the ball on the tee,
it seemed the whole world was laughing at me.
So, I called on the power that God will provide,
then glanced to a nod from my Dad on the side.
Three great big steps and my toe struck the ball.
I caught it just right. I knew how after all.
It seemed like slow-motion as the team stopped to stare.
The ball gently tumbled as if floating on air.
The looks on their faces I could never replace,
as it split through the uprights with plenty of space.
I looked towards my Dad now beaming with pride,
then turned to the coach with his mouth open wide.
Cheers were replacing the laughs I’d revered,
on the day that hard work overcame what I feared.
I went on to college and professional ball,
but that was the kick I enjoyed most of all.
I don’t think I’d ever have worked quite that hard,
if I wasn’t picked last on that old school yard.
As a dad of three I’ve got your measure
We love you protect you give us lots of pleasure
But……mums and dads aren’t as daft as you think we are
Dads give us a fiver and ill wash your car
Mum….can I take a couple of pounds out of the copper jar
My car barely sees water and a sponge because it’s too much mither
And the copper jar that held a tenner now holds just a fiver
And so it goes on
Dad….can I stay out as long as Paul his dad lets him stay out till eleven
A quick call to Paul’s dad guess what Pauls in at seven
We love you dearly but you kids think were daft
But were on to you it’s almost become a craft
And the classic dad can I have my pocket money mums give her last to my brother
A quick word with mum reveals you’ve just had a tenner
Me and your mum we do talk to each other
Clean your room up I’ve asked you 4 times if you don’t that’s it your grounded I said
I’ve done it dad you tell me I go check it’s clean but it’s all under your bed
That’s it your grounded
Toys out of pram and don’t give me that look
You know the one open mouthed astounded
You see mums and dads aren’t daft it’s all part of the game
But…..through all your tantrums and tears
We still love you all the same