My Father
I could never lived
Without you
Please father
Understand that
I need you in my life
Because I would be lonely
Also it is you that made me
Many years ago
And placed me to live on earth
My Father
I could never lived
Without you
Please father
Understand that
I need you in my life
Because I would be lonely
Also it is you that made me
Many years ago
And placed me to live on earth
My Father
I could never lived
Without you
Please father
Understand that
I need you in my life
Because I would be lonely
Also it is you that made me
Many years ago
And placed me to live on earth
Step right up, Father, hear my cry,
Your blood, your name I won’t deny.
You made me once, then turned away,
But I’m the product you can’t betray.
I’m flesh of your flesh, proof of your line,
A living brand, your own design.
You wish I’d vanish, fade, be gone,
Yet here I stand, your legacy drawn.
Invest in me I’m pain and fire,
I’ll carry your name, climb higher, higher.
Reject me now, but still I bleed,
Your child, your echo, your planted seed.
I’m the bargain you can’t dismiss,
The cost is love, the gain is bliss.
Buy me back, Father, claim your art,
I am the child who wants your heart.
Father was born in 1905,
On one Spring day in April.
One day in the month of May,
My dear father became ill,
and there was no curing pill.
I was 13 when my father died.
1963 was the year of his demise.
For 58 years he not only survived,
But was industrious and learned to thrive.
Occasionally, I'd hear daddy say,
"I'm going out west where eagles
Build their nests". In reality, daddy
Never resided west of the Mississippi.
Too young for World War One;
And too old for World War Two.
His life was not a long marathon,
But he was strong through and through.
Daddy was a farmer and auterprinur.
I heard from older souls who knew him.
I heard stories that made me proud of him.
Daddy was 58; died in 1963, 63 years ago.
Jesus you are my father.
In you I find hope.
My trust is in you Jesus over all distractions I hope in you
Mountains may crumble.
Seas may roar.
You Jesus will remain my best friend and greatest support.
I Trust in you alone Jesus my God my future.
I do not need tarot any more or spirit guides or ancients.
Only you Jesus I need.
Thank you Jesus for guiding me to you always.
My friend Anna has been silent for days now.
I talk with you Jesus and am comforted.
I hear your words and am glad.
You have great plans for me, plans for good and not for disaster.
You are my rose of Sharon my Lilies of the valley.
For My Father
A painful strike, a sudden blow,
A heavy burden rests on me.
Endless emptiness, a fading glow,
My father died at seventy-three.
He's in a better place, no doubt,
Yet this longing I can hardly bear.
His face, his smile, the talks we shared,
The touch of his hand no longer there.
His gentle eyes, his soft white beard,
Things I will never see again.
The strength he had, the wisdom in his voice,
Still guide me down memory's lane.
Why is losing a loved one so hard?
Why does it bring such lasting pain?
Every precious thing must end one day,
Yet the longing still remains.
You'll always live on through me,
You'll always dwell within my heart.
I hold to the hope we'll meet again,
In Heaven, where no souls must part.
So instead of mourning without end,
I choose gratitude over despair.
Knowing you're at peace in a better place,
Free from every burden and care.
You will always be my hero, my guide,
The measure by which I live my days.
Until we meet again, dear Father,
I'll honor your life in all my ways.
In the golden haze of the afternoon,
With summer sun and fading light,
We carved our hours in leather gloves,
And chased the sphere in joyous flight.
You tossed the baseball, spiraled deep,
The football arcing through the air,
A sacred bond of sweat and smiles,
When you have time to meet me there.
The years rolled by like rolling tides,
The games grew scarce, the pace grew fast,
But in the quiet after work,
We found a shelter in the past.
With tired hands and easy chairs,
We spoke of seasons, lost and won,
Reliving every shining play,
From when the day was just begun.
Now sitting on the shaded porch,
As shadows stretch across the lawn,
I see the coach, the guiding light,
The hero that I leaned upon.
No matter where the road may lead,
Or how the ticking clock may chime,
My favorite memory of the years,
It is simply you, making time.
Before the first dawn broke the night,
You knew my name, You held my frame.
You're not just a judge of cosmic might,
But my "Father"—the most tender name.
When footsteps stumble, weak and blind,
And shadows stretch across the floor,
It’s Your patient hand I find,
Guiding through the open door.
You do not count my deep regrets,
Nor turn away when I am weak.
Your grace remembers, love forgets,
Giving the peace my soul would seek.
Like a father holds his frightened child
Against the booming thunder and the heavy rain,
Your quiet voice, so calm and mild,
Whispers that I will rise again.
The grandest King, the Creator, the greatest Architect,
Who spun the stars and set the sea,
Yet stoops to love, shield, and protect—
A perfect Father, holding me.
like a sunny day
before the weather changes . . .
the man Mom once knew
To this day I still recall my strongest childhood memory. Dad is driving us to the seashore.
The sun follows us, a happy fellow, beaming in the mid-morning’s azure sky. In the back seat with my two sisters, I’m looking out the window as I crunch on Mom’s homemade salty Chex Mix, anticipating the warmth of salt spray from the waves I’ll be jumping on this beautiful day -
"Life is a beach" not yet even in my vocabulary.
We are now at the shore, a large blanket laid out, Mom with her bright red hair tied back with a brighter red checked scarf, and my dad, dark-haired and handsome, smiling. So rare is this happy countenance he wears today! For a while I sit as if entranced, watching the waves roll in.
But eventually, and predictably, my joy ebbs like the tide.
Dark clouds are gathering; gray begins to envelop the sky. I look over to my dad; the gray has recaptured his face. In the vanishing sunlight, familiar dark thoughts invade my mind -
Dad, can I see you be happy just once for a whole day?
the man I never knew
living in my memory . .
a sad sunless day
The life of my father,
The life he created,
The life he has lived,
The kindness he gave us.
It is an extraordinary life.
At the age of ninety-one,
He can say he went to Siberia
And swam in the Atlantic.
He lived through wars.
He was not called a hero,
But he was a hero to us,
Always with a kind heart.
His smile, his love,
His generous heart,
He led a company
And gave it his all.
He had no shoes at the age of five.
He knew hunger at the age of ten.
He was a scholar by eighteen,
A father,
A leader.
Now he does not remember much,
But he remembers how to love.
He reminds us to be kind.
He remembers to care.
My father's heartless attacks stung me hard
he claimed a cold world to do as he pleased
the darkness carried was marred and scarred
fate had given him a soulless disease
they said you should have known him long before
I answered I never thought it would end
struggling with memories I abhor
the hate in his eyes I'll never defend
the length and breadth of sadness bind those days
when his ghostly hand swung a razor strap
the shadowed terror remembered still stays
haunted by the anguished welts on my back
a child who sought love from a wishing well
my childhood cries shaped by living through hell
A shadow walked beside the man I knew,
A heavy fog that blurred his gentle eyes.
The bottles and the powder stole the view
Of the father who could love without disguise.
Because he loved me—that I always knew,
Deep down beneath the wreckage and the pain.
He held my hand when sober days were true,
Before the storm would pull him back again.
He fought a war inside his broken mind,
A losing battle fought with desperate pills.
But in the quiet space he left behind,
I only want to look upon his hills.
And then the night the world went tearing loose,
When breath grew shallow right beside my bed.
I watched him slip away from life's abuse,
While frantic, helpless thoughts ran through my head.
I hold the silence where he used to breathe,
And wrap myself in guilt I shouldn't bear.
I ask the dark what I could interweave,
To save him from the ghosts hiding in there.
But love cannot outrun a poison's art,
And children cannot cure a sickness deep.
I keep his love tucked safely in my heart,
And let the blame fade softly into sleep.
My father’s alive
I see him live in my hands
We don’t truly die.
Go ahead and be yourself.
Some will call it a midlife crisis.
Hopefully it's just a phase.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
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