At age five I like to run and play
In the light of a southern sunny day
I ate honeysuckle enjoying the taste
Playing in the dirt mud pies I baked
At 15 what matters to poetic teen
Clothes goals and fashion dreams
I was quite proud of my pop band
We wrote songs we sang we danced
At 30 what mattered to me the most
Creating better life as a mom you know
Working full time and in college too
Keeping my son in best homes and schools
And then at 50 I was confident in self
No longer worried about lack of wealth
Having lived through some dark times
This was the age I renewed my mind
What may matter at age of seventy
Is life going on as I live it in peace
The pitter patter of grandkids feet
Retired but inspired to love family
What matters at each life stage
Is that I live life love and pray
To wake up is a blessing each day
To die well is the last thing you face
Happy Heavenly Birthday, Dad, you would be 100 today - I miss you like a ghost misses heartbeats.
~
midst all of heaven's blessings
my treasures, known and had
not one can best the miracle
that fate made you ... my dad.
I love you, RT.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
Heaven invisible and holy.
1 Cor. 2:9,10; Rev. 21:27.
¦¦¦ eye hath seen, ¦¦¦ ear hath heard,
¦¦¦ sense nor reason known,
¦¦¦¦ joys the Father ¦¦¦¦ prepared
¦¦¦ those that love the Son.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ good Spirit of the Lord
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ heav'n to come;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ glory in his word
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ guide us home.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the joys above the sky,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ peace;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ see or taste the bliss.
¦¦¦¦¦ holy gates ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ obtain admittance ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ followers of the Lamb.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Father's book of life,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ their names are found;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
To tread the heav'nly ground
(Blackout of Hymn 105 by Isaac Watts)
Son i truly hope you know
How much you mean to me
I know at times I make it difficult
But somehow I hope you see
I don't mean to be so tough on you
For me emotions are hard to show
And I'm doing the best I can
To guide you as you grow
Life isn't an easy journey
We don't always know what to do
As you bear witness to my struggles
Know I want better for you
As my baby boy grows into a man
This is all I will ask of you
Have a heart gentler than mine
And take pride in every thing you do
And know that not a day goes by
That you don't fill my heart with joy
I pray you know how much I love you
And you will always be my baby boy
You never were
that kind of father
So I could never be
that kind of son
You saw what you
wanted in others
But with us it was
all zero sum
I reacted to what
you were doing
And not to the bombast
you spread
As the rift ever widened
between us
Into canyons of anger
— and dread
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
We are never Woke!
Cool, catchy, hip
neat sounding expression
but deceptively misleading!
Best we can do is rest,
shelter at a pillar of Awakening….
-----------------------------------
We choose our possessions --
Choose what possesses us --
The Devil, with his lures
of power and gem-my babbles --
Christ His promise of Soul
Liberation: ever higher expansion,
Awaking consciousness into spheres
of unimaginable cosmic spiritual
wealth – Christ, my heart lightener;
guide through shrouded corridors,
enraptured, trans-versing mystic chambers,
those sky-high mansions for initiate
flight. I become the Light-bearer! No captives in
Christ, only partners, who serve the Father,
totally dedicated to His Children's uplifting.
There are no dogmatic prisoners in
Christ. I follow Christ, who follows
God, joyful in a journey of unfolding
omnipotence. What Father wants
less for His Children than he has
For Himself? The Almighty, ever
present, ever loving, beneficent Great I Am!
Contest : Simple poetry
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Theme chosen; Memory
Written: 090326
It was a class about public speaking.
I stood at the podium and froze,
Completely FORGETTING what to say.
That's a MEMORY I wish I could FORGET.
I was not more than twelve years old when
A mean man viciously shot and killed my dog.
It's a MEMORY that I wish I could FORGET.
Loved ones and friends are gifts from God.
Some things were made for MEMORIES.
I will never FORGET such blessed gifts.
On the sports side of things, MEMORY is
A very pleasing commodity to have. When
I was 13, I scored 4 points in a basket ball
Game that turned our team around. We
Then won that game. A game that I will
Never FORGET.
Surely the ability to recall is a gift from God.
'FORGETTING' is sometimes a blessing also.
Even God made a promise of FORGETTING.
He promised to forgive and FORGET our sins.
This, without a doubt, I will never FORGET.
Before him, my hands belonged to me—
ten fingers with no reason to be careful,
good for gripping steering wheels, counting money,
and reaching for whatever I wanted next.
Then a nurse folded eight pounds into my arms.
His whole hand closed around one finger,
too small to circle even half of it,
and somehow that unfinished little fist
held more of me than mine ever could.
I remember watching his little chest rise,
a heart-shaped birthmark moving with every breath,
counting each one without knowing I was counting,
afraid even air might mishandle him.
Those hands changed after that.
They learned alarm clocks before sunrise,
time clocks, grocery bags, medicine bottles,
how to stretch one paycheck past Friday,
how to check a fever without waking him.
They learned shoelaces. Bicycle seats.
And even how long to hold on before letting go.
Years later, those tiny fingers
filled the gloves of a United States Marine,
and I stood looking up at the same boy
I once was terrified of dropping.
Funny—
The first day I held my son,
I thought I was carrying him.
I didn't know
he was carrying me into manhood.
BEQUEATHED SHOES…
I’m walking in the shoes
Of my father’s father’s Father:-
I never had to tie them,
Though I had to bend down
To slip them on:-
I never wanted to take them off;
In them, my soul joyously walked.
Their soles walked me over hate–
Footprinting it with each loving step;
Leading me to the blessed waters
To wash feet in labors of love:-
May my children likewise walk
In the shoes of their father’s Father.
He took all that was legally his to inherit
And never to lay claim on any deed again.
Yet, having spent all, now in lack and want,
Living in abject penury, he returned home;
He returned not as a son any more but.....
Positioning himself as a servant legally
speaking.
But grace located him and restored him;
Instead of shame and reproach he found;
Grace and the father's embrace saying..
Welcome home, this is your home both
now and forever.
(Written 6th December, 2015.)
I lived most my life ~ trying to hide the sin that made me who I am
worse part I’d do it all again ~ rather than being seen as this sham
By
David Kavanagh
In the City of Downey, where I was born,
my mom gave me options, and I was torn.
She said, "Here are your choices. Listen kid -
we can go to Giza to see the great pyramid,
or maybe you want to see the Great Wall,
or the Sistine Chapel or the Taj Mahal -
but wait, look out the window. It's getting dark.
We just have time for Rio San Gabriel Park.
There's a lion drinking fountain where you can drink.
How about that son? What do you think?"
So, we got in the car, drove two minutes to see
The Big Yellow Lion Fountain of RSG.
I'll tell you friends, that's as good as it gets,
and to this day, I've had no regrets.
I have seven children
Wanting my attention
Whom do I love the most?
They would love to know
A difficult choice for me
I love myself, the most
Then, each part of me
In seven other souls
Each, my just reward
Gratifying my spirit
Raising my mind
I love each differently
Don't I have favorites?
My lot, to love diversely
Those who respect me
Ditto, those who mistreat
Teach your son a trade
one that’s light and clean
Acquired skills rarely fade
if learned as a teen
If you can’t teach him
hire someone who can
So, he will punch his own ticket
once he’s a full-blown man
Take my guts and peel my skin off
look me straight in the eye
no answer just silence
questions of freedom just gone.
Is this my father or a man in the mask,
force that I've never felt before,
now i know how far my body can fly,
across that hallway, till i hit the floor.
Darkness in the eyes of love,
looking straight at me as i get up,
"Go ahead and use it father"
" Feed that anger because tomorrow
you might not wake up"!
But before you swing that heavy arm,
just listen to my silence,
your kingdom screams, my heaven suffers,
you never told me if you loved me.
Without a question or hesitation,
decisions in my mind,
how could i think this way,
eat my breakfast now with my bloody lip,
these thoughts are your fault
i need you around, your death on my mind.
One day you will hit the ground,
chills down my spine,
hello freedom, now you are mine.
Son Categories
Read wonderful son poetry on the following sub-topics:
birthday, daughter, forgive me, growing up, father to, inspirational, missing my, mother to
and more.
Definition | What is Son in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
boy, brother, child, daughter, dependent, descendant, grandson, heir, homie, junior, male, offspring, relative, sibling