A letter to My Dad
Dad it's been twenty years,
since you have been gone now
when ever I think of you
the thought, brings tears
There's so much to tell
you, I don't know where to begin
two months, after you died
we had a son, he's so big now, I'm in a spell
I wanted for you, to meet my wife,
in a way you did, only at your funeral,
by then, it was to late
strangers were we, but never any strife
Between us, there was no hate or any love
many wasted words had we
I would like to mention, we have a daughter,
and she's sweet as a dove
Remeber the day, that you gave me old shep
he was a very fine dog
for a long time, I had him
for many years, he had a lot of pep
After nine years, he died too,
seems like ever thing I love
dies sooner or later
and that makes me feel, very blue
You don't realize, how much you love
some one, until their gone,
and then they
fly away like a dove
Toward the end, we had some good talks
you told me many things i didn't know
at your farm, on our many walks
You told me how you played ball,
it must have been something,
to have played back then
my son, dad like you is very tall
I have a very happy life
dad, I wish you could meet
my son and daughter,
also my wife
Dad, it's to bad, I didn't know you better,
too many years were wasted
and I should have told you, I love you,
so that's the reason, for this letter
written June 18,1990 In Memory of my dad Elmer W. Foulk
Born September 13,1904 Died October 10,1970
Related quotes
The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
Judy
To my wife Judy
I really love you truly
remember the good old days,
and the bad, when we almost went our ways
your such a good mother and wife
even though, we together, have a lot of strife
I love your sweet smile dear
the thought of losing you, brings a tear
Remember when we walked down grand
for us together, hand in hand
when we went to watch them play ball
days when the team was riding tall
Remember our first kiss
it brought my heart much bliss
Judy dear the years, have gone fast
I love you so much, like in the past
Judy together we've seen good times and bad
we've seen our son, grow into a fine lad
our daughter I know acts like me,
I do wish she was more like you, don't you see
Judy you have so much love,
in you, your sweet as a dove
you put up with so much
right now your face I want to touch
I told you I would write a poem about you
it may not be good, but it'll do
Judy this is how I feel with out you
when away from you, I feel very blue
I miss you very much
love you more, when were not in touch
time has not passed us by
of the past I need to let it die
Judy I'm happy with you my dear
the thought of losing you brings fear
without you, I'm nothing at all,
with you, in time, I will stand very tall.
Wish You Were Here
Funny how the years
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday
You were in my life
You always wanted
To start a family
I was way too young
I was runnin' free
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
I thought I knew it all
How stupid could I be?
I think of all I had
And it makes me weak
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Sometimes
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give yourself to me?
You died in me
Why was I too blind to see?
Oh
Oh
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Funny how the years
Just pass us by
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not Sorry No She Said
I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead
He gave to my daughter a hard life
And she to him was a good wife.
It may seem a callous thing of me to say
That I'm not sorry he's out of the way
For without him my daughter will survive
And in fact I'd like to think she'll thrive.
And though I feel her years with him were wasted years
My daughter sheds her grief in tears
To him she was a good wife and a good friend
And she stayed with him right to the end.
Whatever in him did she see
I find it way far beyond me
For to understand the workings of humanity
For they were different as can be.
She said as for myself I've been lucky in life
Lucky to be a good man's wife
But our daughter good of heart and kind
In love and marriage happiness failed to find.
Her feelings she is not afraid to own
When she said the rudest man that I've ever known
And I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wish You Were Here (With Me)
Funny how the years,
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday,
You were in my life
You always wanted to start a family
I was way too young,
I was runnin' free
[Chorus]
If you could only see me now,
You'd realise
I'm not the boy who made you cry
You gave yourself,
I didn't see it
You died in me,
I should have saved you
Wish you were here with me
I thought i knew it all,
How stupid could i be
I think of what i had,
And it makes me weep
[Repeat chorus]
Sometimes,
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes,
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn, but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself,
I didn't see it
You died in me,
I should have saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give youself to me
You died in me,
Why was i too blind to see
Wish you were here with me
(funny how the years, they just pass us by)
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Man's Saddest Story
We sat about the fireplace listening to the old man's tales
Of the youthful years of life he spent in lovely Alder Vale
He told some happy stories but he told some sad one's too
And the saddest story that he told I will relate to you.
'Twas the story of young Joaney Ryan who died whilst in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time
She died at twenty three years old the valley beauty queen
And a fairer maid since her time the old man has not seen.
She was the most beautiful maid the old man ever knew
With sheeny hair of raven black and sparkling eyes of blue
Yet for all of her splendid beauty she did not show conceit
A better mannered girl than her no man could wish to meet.
Beauty it can take a woman quite a long, long way
But beauty quickly withers like the flowers that bloom in May,
You cannot judge a woman by her beauty or her dress
You can only judge a woman by the manner she possess.
He must have loved this lovely maid he must have loved her so
Who died in September forty six years ago
For as he told her story a tear showed in each eye
And it seemed quite clear to all of us that he was near to cry.
She died in a hospital this lady like woman
From Leuchaemia a disease that greatly curtail life's span
On the tenth day of September her remains were put to earth
Twenty three years and thirty six days from the day of her birth.
In each human's life story there is some share of woe
And the old man's saddest thoughts are of a maid he used to know
Who died of Leuchaemia whilst only in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
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\ Love \
He told the
Therapist
How vexed
He was
As his wife
Didn't feel
Sexed.
The therapist
Told him if he
Gave his wife
A lot of love
She would
Surely give him
Sex.
So now his
Wife feels
Ever so happy
Seeing her hubby
Falling head over heels
In love with her again…
After so many years
Of ‘busy'ness, finally
He has made the time
For her…
She's been
Telling the
Ladies of her
Kitty party,
Tales about this
New found love.
Alas! The gullible lass
Little does she know…
Why so? !
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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You Will Always Be My Father
I dearly loved my Father,
Till I was about twelve years old,
Then he started to go astray,
An affair is what I was told.
I fought with my Mother and Brothers,
They said he was just a rat
He was my reason for living,
My Dad could not do that.
At first he disappeared for days,
I didn't know where or when,
He could have been alive or dead,
But then he'd appear again.
There was never an explanation,
He should have given me that at least,
Then he'd show from out of the blue,
With his gifts from the mystic east.
You left my mum to struggle on,
With five of us in tow,
You let your heart rule your head,
You just didn't want to know.
I never believed you could have an affair,
I kept that in my head,
Until that fateful day I was shown,
You lying in anothers bed.
I never spoke to you for seven years,
That's when fate stepped in,
When I met you in the street one day,
I still felt the love within.
I bonded with you once again,
I unloaded my long held grudge,
Who am I to lecture you,
The Good Lord would be your judge.
You then met your younger siblings,
Whom you had barely known,
It gave you one last chance in life,
To see how they had grown.
You threw away a life of bliss,
But I don't believe you were bad,
To throw away your Wife and Sons,
You had to be bloody mad.
I was with you on the Thursday,
You just wanted to go to bed,
When I went to meet you on Friday,
I was informed that you were dead.
I will be eternally grateful,
For having you back in my life,
Life is really far too short,
To continue a lifelong strife.
So may you rest in peace Dad,
Though it's thirty two years on,
It seems like only yesterday,
I was told that you had gone.
Your wayward ways affected us all,
They had us in a lather,
But regardless of your betrayal,
‘' You Will Always Be My Father ‘'
Stage Love
WHEN the game began between them for a jest,
He played king and she played queen to match the best;
Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,
These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after.
Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night;
All the sting and all the stain of long delight;
These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her,
When she played at half a love with half a lover.
Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry;
They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die;
Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow,
Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow.
What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain;
How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again;
These were things she came to know, and take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man’s pleasure.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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On June 1st of That Year
I wish I could take back everything that I have ever said that hurt you
I wish I could have another one of our 'important talks'
But that's not going to happen
Since you didn't make it thought ther night
I just hope you didnt feel much pain,
When you died
I still can remember the call
When I picked up the phone and it was the hospital
And they told me that you was in a bad car crash
And that you had died instanly
I just wish I would have said I love you
And gave you a kiss
Instead of being pissed at you
Over something so childish
The women told me that you was under the influence of drugs
I just sat there and started weeping
I told you earlier that day that drugs was going to kill you
I just wish I wasn't right
I just wish I could hold you in my arms just one more time
I just wish I could have been their to say good-bye
There is not one day that goes by
That your not in my thoughts
It has be so hard for me the past month it has been hell
I told you if you died
I would be able to handle it
That I would have to join you as well
You dont have to worry anymore
Because in a second or two
I will be with you
People thought I was stronger then what I was
Then they found out that
I couldn't handle the presure of the world by myself anymore
When little Brandi hung herself
On June 1st of that year
(4-24-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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Your Dear John Letter
When you wrote me a letter
To tell me I'm better off without you
A tear ran down my face
I wiped it away
Before I thought anyone would see
I ripped the letter in little pieces
So no one would read it
But now I wished I didn't
I have nothing but your memory now
But that's slowly slipping away
And if you died
I probably wouldn't cry about it
Because I cried enough for you
In the last couple of years
I guess when you told me
I was better off in the letter
I didn't believe you then
But now I know
That best thing you ever did
Was to write the letter
That broke my heart that fateful day
It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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I Know This Poor Bloke
I know this poor bloke in the mood for suicide
And he has felt heavy hearted since the day his wife died
Some five years ago his ache of loss from him not gone
And till the day of his death his grief with him will live on.
I do meet him often though not every day
And for words to him I always feel stuck to say
He always talks of his dead wife and the grief that he feel
And for him I feel sorry since his sorrow is real.
On his sense of loss with him I sympathize
And each time I see him he has tears in his eyes
My condolences to him I already did pay
But the grief that he feels it is with him to stay.
The price of true love it can come at a great cost
And he is left to mourn for what he has lost
One in his late sixties his hair silvery gray
And the clock on his life it is ticking away.
A man due to grief in the mood for suicide
Though he is one now I would rather avoid
Since each time I meet him he talks of his dead wife
And I am one who needs laughter in my life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Wasted Words Of All The Years
THE WASTED WORDS OF ALL THE YEARS
The wasted words of all the years-
The time given to them-
A lifetime given to words
Never to be read.
Yet how I lived in those years.
And what hope I had in those words
And how I told my dreams in them
And how I tried to help those I loved.
No one needs the words
And no one wants them
But perhaps the life itself
In writing them
That too counts.
All the years of the words and the dreams and the hopes and the love of those I loved and the striving for greatness not to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Secret
Secrets are good,
Secrets are bad,
I have a secret,
It may make you sad.
Secrets deep,
Secrets shallow,
It may be hard,
To swallow.
Secrets heavy,
Secrets light,
This is to be told,
At night.
Secrets kept,
Secrets told,
This secret,
Is very old.
Secrets of love,
Secrets of hate,
This secret,
Is great.
Secret love,
Secret hate,
My secret,
Is who,
I love.
A guy so sweet,
A guy so great.
A guy so fun,
A guy so nice.
This guy is different,
This guy is a dove.
This is the guy,
Who I love.
Different is great,
Different is sweet,
No one knows us,
So it's great.
This guy is lonely,
This guy is friendless.
I like him,
And he likes me.
No one talks to him,
No one talks to me.
We are the same,
We are different.
He doesn't know,
That I love him,
Cause he knows,
We're the same.
I've no love,
He's caught a dove.
He's had no love,
He taught me how to catch a dove.
He's tall and smart,
He's sweet and friendly,
He's nice and fun,
He's the sun.
I have a secret,
One that's free like a dove,
I have a secret,
That's all about love...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Amarillo
The time has come,
Youre really leavinyou always told me that
You wanted to
I guess I never thought
It would happen
I guess I never really wanted it to
The world is calling you and
You must answer
But you can take me with you
In you drams
If you ever get back to amarillo
In a shiny new car or
Worn out shoes
If you ever get back to amarillo
Ill be waitinfor you
Your sister told me you were workinat some office out in tinsel town
Dont forget about those who
Love you
Theyll be there for you if you
Get down
I believe in you and all youre after
I hope you end up where you
Want to be
Chorus
Thirty years now have
Gone by quickly
I still think of you from time to time
My wife died early, Ive got children
Im happy and my health is fine
I often wondered if you found your
Freedom
I sometimes wonder if I should
Have gone
Chorus
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Fortune Tellers Said
When Vera and I first met,
a second marriage
was the last thing on her mind.
Her first husband had not long run off
with a fourteen year old
and left this world in a suicide pact.
Some years earlier,
a Fortuneteller had told her
she would never end her days with him.
She would meet a tall dark person
sooner than she thought.
She shrugged off the suggestion,
as she never wanted to marry again.
With a failed marriage
that only brought her grief.
She was not going to take the chance again.
Once was enough.
She could never trust
anyone again.
Years earlier in my life
a Fortuneteller told me
I would settle down
with someone with the initial D.
My way of thinking that was a Christian name
like Dorothy or Diane,
but not a surname.
When her husband died
being a friend I attended his funeral,
never dreaming that one day
his widow would
eventually become my wife.
After all her name began
with a V and not a D.
Then a group of his friends
met one night in a coffee bar.
Someone suggested one of us
take her out for an evening.
As there were no takers,
so I volunteered.
However, I joke about it now.
We went out together
time and time again.
When I asked her to marry me,
she wasn’t really sure.
Memories of her previous marriage
kept plaguing her,
but eventually she said yes.
After we were married,
she could not totally trust.
Even though she was reassured
that I was not like her first husband
and wouldn’t cheat on her.
That I wasn’t like that.
Almost two years passed
before trust slowly returned.
It was then she realised
that I was the one
the Fortuneteller had told her about.
You cannot get much taller than six foot three.
As for me and the initial D.
Vera’s married surname
began with the initial D.
Here we are through troubles thick and thin
fast approaching
our 38th Wedding Anniversary.
We’ve hardly been parted
within those years.
Not because of distrust,
but because of love.
We get lonely
whenever we are apart.
Now as for fortune-tellers,
I’m not sure what to believe.
It would seem a coincidence
that two different people
would predict our lives together.
This is true and I wonder
was it just a lucky guess,
or is there more to it.
I’ll let you decide.
21 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Angel
When my love and I decided to marry
she mentioned something new.
She told me she had seen an angel
more than a time or two.
I didn’t want to challenge her beliefs
even though I certainly did,
so I said perhaps it was her guardian angel
who would protect her while she lived.
She said the first time that she saw him
was when she died at the age of four.
She was in hospital suffering from pneumonia
and had knocked on heavens door.
As the medical team revived her,
the angel left with a smile and wave,
and she didn’t see him again until
the funeral at her mother’s grave.
The next time she mentioned him
was on our wedding day.
He was hovering above the aisle,
as her father gave her away.
He was there when our children were born
and present when her father died.
I told her he was a figment of her imagination,
just an illusion from her mind’s eye.
I asked her to explain his presence,
and what good did he do.
She said that he brought her comfort
and some meaning to her life too.
Today I saw two beautiful angels
at the graveside of my wife.
One of them was carved in stone,
and the other gleamed with life.
poem by Orlando Belo
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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.