A Penny for the Guy
(Ever remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot,
We see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!)
I was sorting through my father's things,
A month since he had died,
And flipping through the books he'd loved,
To still the chill inside,
When out there fell a photograph
Of me, at nine years old,
A tiny square of black and white
That made my blood run cold!
It brought the memories rushing back,
For in that ancient scene,
I stood before a building that
Would make an old man scream,
An air raid shelter, from the war,
A roof so flat and square,
And on the top the bonfire that
Once lit, brought grief to bear.
November 1946,
Was pencilled on the rear,
That date was burnt into my brain,
It brought a sudden tear,
And memories of childhood friends
I hadn't seen since then,
Nor ever would again, I thought,
I left, when I was ten!
We'd stuffed the Guy with newspaper
Inside my father's suit,
And Ben, he had supplied the hat,
And Shirley brought the boots,
We put him on the barrow
Roamed the streets and gave a shout,
'A penny for the Guy, ' we called,
The Guy just flopped about!
'He isn't very real, ' said Ben,
'His head keeps falling off!
We need a broomstick for the neck.'
Then Shirley gave a cough;
'What if I dressed up in the suit,
That mask, to hide my face?
We'd have the best Guy in the street,
The best Guy in the place!
We laughed, and all agreed, so she
Hid in her father's shed,
Put on the suit, too long for her,
The hat just crowned her head,
We put her in the barrow then,
And pushed from street to street,
'A penny for the Guy, ' we said,
You couldn't see her feet.
A funny girl was Shirley then,
With funny little ways,
She seemed too shy to play with us
Except on certain days.
She said her father was a brute,
He'd tie her to a chair,
And once she said, 'he tied me up
And touched me - you know where! '
We didn't understand at all,
Just kids - she shrugged and sighed,
If we thought anything at all
We thought she must have lied,
For fathers didn't do those things,
We'd never heard of that,
And blushed just at the thought of it;
(She hid beneath her hat!)
That night we sneaked her on the roof
Before our folks arrived,
We didn't want them seeing her,
The Guy would look contrived;
The wood was piled up eight feet high,
We sat her at the top,
'Now don't jump up 'til they're all here,
We'll catch them on the hop! '
I'd smelt that funny smell when we
Were climbing on the pile,
We didn't know what smell it was,
Although it smelt quite vile.
But someone had poured petrol on
The wood to make it burn,
We didn't know what petrol was,
The fumes made Shirley squirm.
The fumes, they must have knocked her out
For when the folks arrived,
We waited, she should jump and shout
But she was scarce alive,
The fireworks were going off
And lighting up the sky,
I said to Ben, 'let's get her down! '
The moment passed us by.
A spark lit up the monstrous pile,
I saw Ben, looking pale
The parents down there, staring up
Just cheered, and drank their ale.
The Guy was soon a blazing torch,
I screamed, 'the Guy's a girl! '
And Ben tugged at her father's coat:
'The Guy up there is Shirl! '
Then suddenly the Guy leapt up
And screamed in pain, aloud,
The flames engulfed her as she jumped
Into the waiting crowd,
Her father caught her in his arms
Became a blazing torch,
He ran, half stumbled back with her,
Collapsed upon the porch.
They lay, two blackened corpses there
With rockets overhead,
And Catherine Wheels and Jumping Jacks
Went off as they lay dead.
We never celebrate Guy Fawkes,
That day won't go away!
I slipped that photo back into
That book, called - 'Let Us Pray! '
7 December 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Reckoning
My mother was carried to heaven
On the day that I turned six,
She died of tuberculosis
Spitting blood in a coughing fit,
She'd been so ill for a long long time
That I couldn't recall her smile,
My father, he just grumbled, said:
'Your Ma will be gone for a while.'
'She's gone to sing in a choir up there,
Who knows how long she will be? '
But I saw the coffin that carried her out,
The hearse and the burial tree,
I watched as it sank down into the ground
And my father just left it there,
Went off to visit my 'aunt', he said,
A woman with long, blond hair.
I stayed at home, such a lonely child,
And went to a place in my head,
Where mother was fit and without a care
She laughed at the things I said,
My father left me alone a lot
So mother would tell me, 'Shush! '
We'd laugh and giggle when he went out
But talk in a sort of hush.
I played outside at other times
Where the grass grew long and wild,
I'd catch the skinks as they darted past,
I was always a curious child,
I'd bring the Sleepy Lizards home,
My father didn't mind,
He said I could keep the pets I caught,
I thought he was being kind.
But then one day he came on home
With this 'aunt', who moved right in,
He said they were married now, so I
Should call her 'Mum', not Jen.
I scowled, and went to my room to cry,
My mother was looking sad,
She said, 'just do what your father says,
I'm your Mother, but he's your Dad.'
This Jenny, she was all right at first
She tried to make me smile,
But I was feeling rebellious then,
And turned my back for a while,
I kept my rabbits and guinea pigs
And fed them out in their hutch,
But Jenny came out to look at them,
And she didn't like them much.
I knew, she wrinkled her powdered nose
And said, 'Oh pew! They stink!
We'll have to find you a hobby, one
That's pure and clean, I think.'
I heard her talking to father, say
That she thought I was rather slow,
She wanted the garden tidied up
So my animals had to go.
It was just about that time, I think
That my mother said goodbye,
She couldn't stay in that house, she said,
It was time for her to fly,
She left me alone in a great big world
So I brought a Lizard inside,
And put it under my bedclothes
Thought it a perfect place to hide.
When Jenny made the bed, she screamed
And shook me like a rag,
She went and got a kitchen knife
And a plastic shopping bag,
She made me put the Lizard in
Then she took the bag outside,
And stabbed and stabbed 'til the Lizard bled,
'Til my Lizard friend had died.
'Now bury it! ' she said to me,
'And don't you ever dare
Bring filthy animals into this house,
For if you do, I swear...'
At this she put the knife to my throat
And stood and watched me scream,
I saw the hate in her powdered face
It was like an awful dream!
Whenever my father left the house
She'd always scream and shout,
Knock me around for the slightest thing
Then drag me, throw me out,
Lock the door so I couldn't get in
And give me nothing to eat,
She said if I told my Dad on her
It would only get me beat.
She killed my rabbits, cooked them up
And served them from a pot,
She gave me a crooked, evil grin:
'You'd better eat the lot! '
I found myself in a black, black rage
Inside, at the things she'd done,
And hoped that my father would go on out
And buy himself a gun.
He never knew what she did to me,
I never would dare to say,
I knew that she'd get me on my own
And then there'd be hell to pay,
So I stayed outside in the barren fields
And found me a hessian sack,
Then went for a hunt with a long, forked stick,
It was time to get her back!
I waited until he'd gone away,
Was gone two days or more,
Then bit my tongue as she raved at me,
Spat hate from the kitchen door,
The morning came, and there wasn't a sound
To come from that angry head,
And I will never regret the day
I put a snake in her bed.
10 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Letter My Father Will Never See
if only one last time i could see you. if only one time i could tell you what i think. if only one time i could say what i've been thinking for all these years. if only i could just not care. if only it didn't hurt so much. if only i could say that you dont matter. if only i could tell you. if only one time you'd listen. if only you knew. if only i could tell you your an ass. if only i could say and put into words what you've put me through. if only you were around to say good job.
as a father you have failed. as a father you were never there. as a father you never held me. as a father you never cared. as a father you never gave me praise. as a father you never brushed my hair. as a father you didn't teach me about life. as a father you didn't teach me how to care. as a father you never showed me love. as a a father you you let me cower in the corner. as a father you scared the hell out of me every night of the week. as a father you came home drunk. as a father you didn't put me to bed. as a father you never gave me a hug as a father you were my worst night. however, for some reason i cant fathom your my father. and for the same reason i cant fathom how you earned the title when being a father was one thing that you never were and dont seem to want to be.
American Soldier
His face against the window the boy starts to cry,
Out of all days on his birthday the 9th of July,
His father had just left to go back to Iraq,
And the boy didn't know if he'd ever come back,
This wasn't the first time his father went away,
But everytime he did the boy would pray,
That his father would return,
Without even a burn,
It was realy hard to have faith,
That his father would be safe,
When everyday on TV,
He'd hear about another injury,
The boy would lose hope everytime he heard a knock on the door,
And it wasn't his father coming back from the war,
Every night before going to sleep the boy thought about the war,
How his dream to be like his father in the army was not anymore,
One morning the boy woke up and he went to eat his breakfast,
And when he did he saw the one that for a long time he missed,
He tried but couldn't hold in his tears,
After realizing that God had heard his prayers,
Never again will I leave his father then said,
I have realized now all the tears I have caused to be shed,
Wether it be to family or to a friend,
This is THE END!
poem by Motti Dahan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And That's Why
I didn’t call and wish you a happy fathers day today
Cause everyone called and told me today.
Did you need for us to call you on this day?
Just like the kids wanted to play that day?
I didn’t call and wish you a happy fathers day today
Because you haven’t seen your kids in 21 days
I bet they wanted to play within those days
So that’s why I didn’t call and tell you happy fathers day
I called and told my daddy happy father’s day
Because he calls me each and every day
When you didn’t buy those diapers
He came through, just like always
When the kids wanted to play
Your brothers dad came around and stayed
So I wished him a happy father’s day today
I wished all my single mothers’ happy father’s day
Because they go through the same thing i do
And they wished me a happy father’s day too
So that’s why I didn’t call you
You called too,
But I was sleeping
Because I have to work two jobs
To take up for what you don’t do
So that’s why I didn’t call you
I put your son on the phone when I woke up
To call and wish his father a happy father’s day
And guess what?
You hung up!
Now do you see why I don’t call and wish you a happy father’s day?
poem by Tylatreece Colbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
and it was Her Summer
…And It Was Her Summer
“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
”Get lost you stupid boy! ” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to se me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My father thought sport was something fun - he didn't know it was a way to make money. Then I won a Mercedes at the world championships and I gave it to him. From the moment it arrived my father said: 'Good, you can support not just yourself but me too'.
quote by Haile Gebrselassie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Last To Know
[Chorus]
Why was I the last to know
That you weren't coming to my show you coulda
Called me up to say "good luck"
You coulda called me back you stupid f***
Why was I the last to know?
[Verse 1]
First date, we ate sushi and
It went well, I was funny and
You said I was a cutie
That's the last thing I heard from you
I left the tickets at the door for you
I had to tell my mom that there was
No more room
You didn't show, that was so uncool
You coulda called me back
So i guess this means that we're
Not friends anymore, I heard
It's me you're asking for, I thought
I'd see you at the show
You said you'd go
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
After the date, I wouldn't go
Home with you
I wouldn't put my heels in the
Air for you
You tried to get me to do things
I just won't do
Last I heard from you
Here is how I guess the story goes
You woulda came if I was a ho
F*** for parts that's just not how
I roll, move it on down the road
So I guess, we, shouldn't be
Friends anymore, sick of hearin'
That it's me you're askin' for
'Cause I thought I'd see you at the
Show, you said you'd go!
[Chorus]
You thought you know me
I guess you didn't
You thought you had me
I think you didn't
You thought you knew me
But you didn't
[Chorus (Out)]
song performed by by Pink
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
It Will All Be Clarified Soon!
Father...
Remember that dude You freaked out,
When You caught him smoking weed?
And he set that bush on fire?
'Oh,
You talking about Moses? '
Yeah,
That's him!
And you calmed him down,
When he thought Your voice
Was coming through the flames!
He didn't admit to that when he brought back
Those tablets with excerpts from Your diary
Emblazed upon them!
To this day I doubt if he understood You referred
To 'his' family and what they 'should' and should 'no't do.
'And...
So,
I didn't make 'that' clear!
What point are you trying to make? '
Well...
You and I have been chilling out
Thousands and thousands of years, right?
'And...'
Well...
It 'just' occurred to me...
IF we, You and me, have been cool with each other
Long before that dude appeared on the scene.
HOW on EARTH did the rest of us get messed up
Behind 'that' misinterpretation?
'That's what has taken Me, The Almighty,
All this time to realize.
But don't worry about it.
It's all going to be straightened out 'real' soon! '
I hope so!
You should see all of these 'things' they've got folks worshipping.
Thinking You, The Almighty, approve...
And are all about 'that'!
'I know!
But like I said...
It's all going to be corrected soon!
I've sent a few representatives...
And they have stated I had to see for Myself
What was going on!
They've got folks walking around in costumes.
Praying to images and symbols.
I have to admit...
I am flattered.
However...
I have 'never' been into all of that!
And this 'one' dude pimping me...
Totally has 'all' of My creations
Psyched out completely!
Who?
The pope?
'Like I've said...
It will all be clarified soon! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Remember, I Remember
I remember, I remember
The house where I was born;
The rent was thirty-two a month,
Which made my father mourn.
He said he could remember when
His father paid the rent;
And when a man's expenses did
Not take his every cent.
I remember, I remember--
My mother telling my cousin
That eggs had gone to twenty-six
Or seven cents a dozen;
And how she told my father that
She didn't like to speak
Of things like that, but Bridget now
Demanded four a week.
I remember, I remember--
And with a mirthless laugh--
My weekly board at college took
A jump to three and a half.
I bought an eighteen-dollar suit,
And father told me, "Sonny,
I'll pay the bill this time, but, Oh,
I am not made out of money!"
I remember, I remember,
When I was young and brave
And I declared, "Well, Birdie, we
Shall now begin to save."
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from wealth
Than when I was a boy.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rebecca
Past loves you always remember
and Rebecca I’ve never forgot.
It was in May when we first met,
and the days were unusually hot.
We were both sixteen and innocent,
and love’s spark grew into a flame.
Desire and passion overwhelmed us,
and our deepest love was to blame.
Early evenings we spent together
and most of our weekend days.
We made love wherever we could,
and in so many different ways.
At eighteen she wanted to marry,
but I said we were too young.
She of course didn’t agree
and of course I was wrong.
We fell out and didn’t see each other
for maybe a week or more,
and then we both apologised,
and made love like never before.
Our relationship became a volcano
in every sense of the word.
One moment all was calm and beautiful,
and then, eruptions could be heard.
Following another reconciliation
we decided to go our separate ways.
This time there was no going back;
there were no more loving days.
She soon found another lover,
and got married without delay.
Nine months after our separation
a baby had come her way.
Because she made no contact
I assumed the baby wasn’t mine.
I never thought any more about it,
and my life was ticking over fine.
Two years later we met by accident
and I asked if the child was mine.
With a grin she changed the subject,
so the answer I couldn’t find.
After forty years had passed,
Rebecca knocked at my door,
and said the woman by her side
is the daughter I should adore.
“Well! After all this time, ” I said,
“how do I know it’s true? ”
“Just look at her, ” she said,
“she’s the spitting image of you.
I brought her here to see you
because she seemed to know
that her dad wasn’t her father,
and she repeatedly told me so.
She pleaded with me to tell the truth
and since my husband recently died.
I felt that I had to tell her about you,
and apologised for all the years I lied.
It would’ve broken my husband’s heart
if he had found out that I had lied,
and so I had to explain to my daughter
why I thought the lie was justified.”
“What a shock! I don’t know what to say,
or come to that, what to do.
I better begin by saying,
“Hello daughter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Define A Father
what did i do so wrong, to make you hate me for this long? your supposed to be my father, your supposed to care, but then again what father breaks promises made to his child, what kind of father is never there. I tried so hard to please you. I gave you the best i could to make you love me but you never would. I thought it was because of her that you never wanted me around, i did all i could to make you see how much she hated me. Then she was gone and i thought the problem would be fixed but the truth was so plain to see, it wasnt only her who hated me. you'd always ignore me, that would hurt so bad, then you'd yell at me and tell me ' you didn't want to see my god-damn face' and that would make me so mad, your supposed to love me, damnit grow up and be a real dad. Define a father to me and all that comes to mind is a loveing, secure man who knows that his children love him and even more, he knows he loves his children. Define a father and sometimes i still try to see you but in reality your only love is electronic and doesn't really give a damn that you love it. Define a father and there's no way to describe the love and devotion, the smiles and cheers, he helps you succeed and wipes away your tears. A father to me is devoted, loving, determined, and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect his family. Define a father and i dont see you.
Devotion to his family and all the things he can do. CAn you look at your father and know that he loves you?
poem by cynthia Routen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Best Friend Danny
I met him in nineteen fifty-six
he was my best friend
him and I, was always in a fix
of our fights, we always did mend.
There was the time
we painted the fence
wanted to do the job, real fine
used a whole gallon of paint
it didn't make sense
my brother dave asked,
'What happened to all the paint'?
when we told him, 'We used it all, '
he laughed, I thought, he was going to faint,
thru the years, with that story,
we have really had a ball
Then there was the time
we tried to chop down the tree
my brother got mad, but the three was mine
oh, we were so care-free
I never forget the racoon,
that followed us home,
he seemed to like our radio
that was playing a tune
the racoon, seemed so a lone
I never forgot the indian head
pennies, he sold me,
he stole them, of crime he led,
he had taken them from his dad
I should have known, he sold them so cheap
to get them back, his father was glad
He always did something
to me that was real mean
to make up, a present he would bring
of our friendship, he would lean
He taught me how to smoke
this you say, you call a friend.
when I could have had a stroke,
but he always had money to lend
When I didn't have any friends at all,
Danny was always, by my side
and it sure made me feel tall
if any one picked on me, he would
beat their hide
Every one called him and I a clown,
each one laughed so hard
that it, really brought them down,
at poker, he could really hide a card
Every morning before school
we played poker, he cheated a lot
and with him, I wanted to fight a duel
but he told me 'I cheat not.'
Of the down town loop, we did ride
in nine-teen fifty-nine
our car through the streets, would glide
trying to find girls
that would be his or mine
In nine-teen sixty, my dog shep died,
it was very depressing and sad
him and I, all day we cried
it made me unhappy and a little mad
In nine-teen sixty-two
he joined the army
I tried to join, but didn't make it
those days were very stormy
after what he went through,
I didn't mind a bit
In nine-teen sixty-seven
the army let him go,
at home at last, I thought I was
in heaven
but I soon found out, it wasn't so
The army had changed him, in many ways
Danny was not the same anymore
as I looked back, at those good old days
when I always heard him, knock on the door
All he wanted to do now, is go drink
he could'nt sit still very long
and he was really starting to sink
he had seen action, against the Viet Cong
Next to him one night
a man's throat was slashed, a man who was kind
it wasn't good, or right
and what it must have done, to Danny's mind
Over the years, I saw him, until eighty-one
hav'nt seen him since
remember well, good times and all the fun
Danny where ever you are,
you are still my best friend
does that make sense.
Mamie and You in Madrid.
Madrid
and after the street salesman
conned you
out of coins
in your change
Mamie said
well put it down
to experience
we all get caught
at one time or other
and they have
brought forth
great art
and you stared at her
at her hair and eyes
and said
yes I guess
but you were still peeved
about it but then
thought of the night before
when you and she
had slept all night
in the coach
through France
and into Spain
she with her head
on your shoulder
making little
snoring sounds
sometimes talking
in her sleep
other times
turning towards you
with her mouth
slightly ajar
and her hair
in a mess
and you had moved in
on her and kissed
her brow
like one planting
a soft kiss
on a corpse
and that made you laugh
and she said
what's so funny?
and you said
taking hold
of her hand
crossing a street
just something
entered my head
what?
she said
about kissing a corpse
you replied
what corpse?
and that reminded you
of the time they brought
your father's body home
for the night before
his funeral and as
he lay there
in the coffin
your gran had said
kiss him goodbye
and so you did
and that stayed with you
the feel
and chilled skin
and how it didn't seem
to be him
just a shell
but you loved him still
for all that
and when you told her that
she said
how sweet
and you gazed at her
at her eyes
and hair
and kissable lips
as you walked
the Spanish street.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hailstone Food
My father loved the rain
Rain with hailstones
Twenty years gone past
When green and blue
Was all I knew
No red of blood
Nor ‘supreme’ of white
Nor ‘beauty’ of black
Just green and blue and love
It rained with hailstones
White stones from heaven
My father knelt down
On wet September grass
His head to the sky
Few stones in his hands
My father said
‘‘Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
I recall less of other days
When it didn’t rain
Perhaps such days were spent
Patiently waiting to say
“Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
Twenty years long wait
Four hearts waiting, breaking
My father waiting, breaking
Waiting! ?
But every body waited for him
I think my father never knew
About the power within him
To make the rain fall
Down once again
And hailstones to scatter
His September lawn
I know now
He was a patient man
Yesterday I dug a hole
And I closed a chapter
With all my childhood’s tears
I put my father in the ground
Funny this:
As the body went down
The clouds began collecting
As the sand filled the hole
The rain began to fall
And as we left the site
White stones scattered the land
poem by LLM Mbatha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Prisoner Of War
he waited from night to night
he waited till the son started peeling over the horizon
he waited till he heard the morning birds chirp
he waited for a long time
he waited for his father
his father lost at war
his father he knew since he was born
but as time grew
the boy felt so weary
the boy waited and waited and waited
his mother giving him the same face
the same face when his father left
and the same face when he didn't comeback
but the boy did not notice this
the boy never knew his dad has been lost
but until
until he strayed up one night
a night he would never forget
he saw his father walking about in the streets
his uniform on but he noticed something else
his father had many medals
but he knew nothing of them
all that he cared about was his father was home
the boy waited 10 years
his mother fell asleep in tears
for all those years
but then he finally came home
this poem is dedicated to all POW
poem by Montana Hohensee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Father's Persistence
Was there rain coming down that day?
I really can't remember.
My mother says it was cold and dreary
on that day in December.
Was I welcomed onto this earth
as I took my first breath in?
My father wanted a boy to raise.
Should I have stayed where I had been?
Gradually he accepted a little girl
and held me on his knee.
He played LP records for hours
and I inhaled the harmony.
My mother says he was obsessed with this
and thought I should be left alone.
But his persistence through my first two years
paid off with each new tone.
By age four I was playing the piano
and my father praised God.
My mother was surprised I guess.
But she thought me rather odd.
My happiest childhood memories
was playing whatever I'd heard.
My father was deliriously happy.
My mother thought it absurd.
Most of my youth went so fast.
Most of it I can't remember,
just like the part about rain coming down
on that cold dreary day in December.
But the thing I remember the most now
was my father's pride and joy
that I was born a girl instead of a baby boy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Joy Inside My Tears
Ive always come to the conclusion that but is the way
Of asking for permission to lay something heavy on ones head
So I have tried to not be the one who ll fall into that line
But what I feel inside I think you should know
And baby thats you - you - you
Made lifes his*to*ry
Caue youve brought some joy inside my tears
And you have done what no one thought could be
Youve brought some joy inside my tears
Ive alwys felt that tomorroqw is for those who are too much afraid
To go past yesterday and start for today
I feel that lasting moments are coming fr and few between
So I should tell you of the happiness that you bring
Baby, baby its you - you - you
Made lifes his*to*ry
Oh baby, youve brought some joy inside my tears
Baby you have done what no one thought could be
You brought some joy inside my tears
You brought some joy inside my tears
You brought some joy inside my tears
Youve brought some joy inside my tears
Baby, baby you have done what no one thought could be
He - y, you brought some joy inside my tears
Gotta tell you
You - you - you made lifes his*to*ry
You brought some joy inside my tears
- you brought you brought you brought some joy inside my tears
Baby baby baby you have done what no one thought could be
You brought some joy inside my tears
You made it baby you made it baby made it made lifes his*to*ry
- you you you made lifes his*to*ry
You brought some joy inside my tears
You have done what no one thought could be
- no-body ever thought it would be
You have done what no one thought could be
You you you made lifes his*to*ry
- gotta shout about it baby
You brought some joy inside my tears
You have done what no one thought could be
You brought some joy inside my tears
You you you made lifes his*to*ry
You brought some joy inside my tears
You brought some joy inside my tears
You brought some joy inside my
Tears
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!