You Can Never Go Home Again
Its been forty years or so
But the dreams still remain
And, in them, I enter happiness.
I race home from school
And burst through the gates.
Where
My father
As always
Awaits with an ever ready smile.
The sun shines behind me
And his crisp ironed shirt does not prevent him
From lifting me up in his arms.
My father does not fear wrinkles..
I speak
In my sleep, a foreign tongue
It bursts from my lips
Like an overripe mango.
And,
I awake, remembering...
I was there again.
Now
After forty years
I walk over the threshold
To a home I remember from my dreams.
I must contain my emotions
Seal them in for I will burst.
I have traveled over land and sea
To stand here.
Perhaps
I was hoping as my feet touched this familiar earth,
I would go back in time...
I half expected my father's ghost to greet me.
Cigarette casually held between pearly white teeth.
His arms ready to embrace the son
He left so suddenly.
The rug was swept up from under me and
My lunges had the breath sucked out from them.
I was hoping to regain some lost oxygen.
My composure slips,
Cracks
Like these old walls that seem to have held the
Same memories I remember.
It's as if they knew I'd come back.
This was all they had left to give
And they waited for me.
They too had been dreaming of better days.
Long ago we lost a lot
The day my father died so suddenly.
I held the dirt from the courtyard in my hands and
Inhaled for his sent,
Caressed the iron gates as if I were touching
My long gone fathers face
And let the tears finally come.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Related quotes
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
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So Here I Am
There you are, here I am
Holding back, what I wish to say again
I can do it, but I can't seem to find the words
So I keep to myself, so sheltered
And once you leave, they come right back
But I don't have the courage to state the fact
Because I don't want changes to be
And I don't want you different towards me
So I kept, it to, myself
I knew what I wanted us to be
But I kept, it to, myself
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am.
Now we're 16, at a party, of a friend of mine
You are here, and I wanted to say it, this time
But then I saw her, she kissed you
That struck deep; I broke in two
So I stayed there, all alone
And lost my chance to say it before you took her home
And once you left, they come right back
But I don't have the courage to state the fact
Because I don't want changes to be
And I don't want you different towards me
So I kept, it to, myself again
I knew what I wanted to say, everything
But I kept, it to, myself again
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am.
Now we're 23
And I’m in the back row, of your wedding
Cause I didn't want anyone to see, the tears that I cried-
Not for her, but for you and me, and what we should be
Should I object? Make my move?
But by the time I made up my mind, the whole thing was through
And once you left, they come right back
But I didn't have the courage to state the fact
And I didn't want to confuse your wedding day
But I can't stand to watch you walk away
So I kept, it to, myself
I felt some hope, of what we could be
But I kept, it to, myself
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am.
Now we’re 40, and look how big your kids have grown
Sometimes as I hug them, I still wish they were my own
And I still feel that light still burning; maybe it's not too late
But then I look into the eyes of your family, and I don't want to make a mistake
And once you leave the feelings come right back
But I didn't have the courage, to state the fact
Because I don't want to ruin, your family
And I don't them to think less of me
So I kept, it to, myself
I felt some hope, of what we could be
But I kept, it to, myself
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am.
Now we're 70, and your great grandchildren are born
And I can see your face, through everyone
And sometimes when you're on your porch, I still want make a move
But I just stay inside, like an old ladies supposed to do
And once you leave, the feelings come right back
But I didn't have the courage, to state the fact
Because I don't want to ruin, your family
And I don't them to think of me differently
So I kept, it to, myself
Wishing I hadn't taken so long to believe
But I kept, it to, myself
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am.
Now we're 90, and I'm at your funeral
Oh how these years went by so quickly, it's hard to believe you're gone
And I'm infuriated with myself, for not acing fast
And upset, because I never took that chance
So finally to the grave, I am able to say:
Now that you're gone, the feelings come right back
I now have to courage, to state the fact
But I am too late, waited too long
To take the chance, I dreamed upon
And I’ve I kept, it to, myself
Wishing I hadn't taken so long believe
I’ve kept, it all to, myself
And held it in when I wanted to speak
So here I am, without you
Sleeping these nights alone
So here I am, without you
Wishing, I would have came forward
So here I am.
And you're no where, to be seen
So here I am, without you
Missing you desperately
Now I'm at my funeral, on my way, to heaven
On my way to God, and still wishing for that blessing
And right when I walk in, through those pearly golden gates
You're right where I wanted, and finally I get my chance to say
And now we're here, the feelings came right back
I now have to courage, to state the fact
Because now you're here
And now I'm here
And I'm no longer, keeping this to myself
Because I've waited my whole life just to tell you how I felt
So here I am, with you
No longer, sleeping these nights alone
So here I am, with you
Proud that I finally came forward
So here I am.
poem by Sugar Bear
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In His Arms
A sharp pain, shortness of breath
loss of sight, darkness surrounds
I lay still slowly dying
Parametics arrive
They kept me here
Until i let go
And my life ended
All i can see is darkness
ten minutes later in the I.C.U.
The doctors say welcome back
We nearly lost you
By my side lays my father
He had been here in it all
He was praying with tears running down his face
I heard him say
If anyone has to go it should be me
Not my daughter let her live
I hurt her enough i deserve it the most
Over and over he prayed
But it wasnt enough
The heart attack was strong
Even if they brought me back
It didnt make a difference
My father held me in his arms
Hour upon hour
And later in the day
I died again
This time never waking up again
But i didnt die alone
My father was with me
Every step of the way
I left this world in his arms
poem by Kerrie Maurer
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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
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My Father's Eulogy
Ladies and Gentlemen,
You are all gathered here today
To pay your respects to someone you knew.
However,
I come today not to bury my father
But set him free.
You see
The man who was my father died
Along with his dreams
Many years back.
He was slowly crushed by disappointments
Until he no longer wished to fight
This shell was not the father of my childhood
Who stood straight as the redwoods
He is not the man who knew how to laugh and play.
My father bartered his pride for too small a price
And became a pauper.
His self esteem slipped away long before his last breath.
He had been trying to suffocate himself
Under his own weight.
I knew him when he still had a twinkle in his eyes.
So,
Do not cry for this body before you
Because you never met the actual soul
That so long ago was housed in his body.
He deformed himself to the extent
That even he no longer recognized himself in his reflection.
Perhaps it was easier not remembering
Who he use to be.
I inherited my sense of humor, my love of music,
My quickness and speed from my father,
Even my biting sarcasm.
My spirit seems to be my mother's.
For those of you who knew him in his youth
You knew him better than me
For those of you who knew him with a young family
You knew him as well as me.
For those of you who met him once he was broken
You may have seen a glimmer of who he use to be,
And, that, on a good day.
I will say again,
Thank you for your presence
I will ask you kindly,
Not to weep.
My father left this life long ago
Because in his dreams
He could hide from the world and find his peace.
Let him sleep a last long slumber
And,
I wish him beautiful dreams.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Father & Son
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
The son, bright-eyed in the morning,
The father, lined and drawn,
The son became the father
On the day that you were born.
We’ve all set out on the highway
Our fathers wished us well,
The sons became the fathers
In the same distinctive spell;
The road of all beginnings
Is all there is to lend,
But many a twist, and many a turn
Has marred us at the end.
He was my father’s father,
I am my father’s son,
We’ve travelled as far, and farther
Than our father’s years have run;
The twists and turns of fortune
Mean nothing, lost or won,
But the love of a father’s father,
And the love of a father’s son.
3 September 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Fallen Angel's Song
I once had wings to fly
but now on the cold black ground I do cry
no comfort, no joy
feels like I'm the Devil's new toy
why did I believe his lies? Let him convince me to turn my back to my Father
O Dear Creator hear my plea, please hear my holler!
I am so very sorry
please won't you forgive me?
look at me crying here
how I long for you to be near
O Father can't you hear me?
how I am so sorry?
I know you'll never let me come back home
but Father please show me you haven't left me all alone
Father, oh Creator do you still care?
though I am here and you are there?
Father do you hate me?
O I have failed you, give me my deserved misery
Father I hope one day
that you might look my way
at your fallen angel here
hoping against the knowledge that it will never be that my way you should peer
O Father please forgive me
poem by Carla Kitts
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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
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Father, Can you see me?
Can You See Me Father?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me through this night?
Father, are you with me?
I look up at the sky, and wonder why, I feel so alone now...
Father, will you help me?
Im afraid to close my eyes.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, if I sleep now, will you be watching over me this night?
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, the world I see is so much larger, than I remember when you were here with me.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me stand own my own two feet once more?
Father, Im on my knees, looking at the sky, looking for your eyes.
Father, I've lost my way, Lord, I pray for your guidance once more.
Father, what was your will, Lord, it was not mine.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, as I pray for your will, please come and show me the way, dear Lord I pray.
Amen
poem by Rose Rosado
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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.
Dilema Of Going Home
Two decades now
Have I lived in America
And my mother
Calling from far away Africa,
Also my little sister
She propably was told of America
They all weap in my
dreams these days,
They want me back in Africa
To build the threshold of my father
That is far gone in decadence.
.
Home, I am coming home
To see my mothers face again
And my little sister Franscisca
She must be a woman by now.
But tell me brothers;
How could I ever go back to Africa
When I yet do not have wings for flight?
.
What would I say to the hungry
eyes of my mother, my sister?
What would I say to friends I left
behind my Africa ten years ago?
What would I say when they asked:
What have you brought for old
buddies you left behind ten years ago.
.
Ten years is long enough time
to be away from home,
And yet have nothing to show
for the labours.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Father there you Are(For my dad)
Father it's been a long time,
Since I was baby which I cannot count on my ten fingers,
Cradle my mother's arms,
My eyes closed yet to see my father,
Father running around,
Now I can talk and walk,
Those years later,
Father where are you?
Seeing my mother,
Saying I love thy father,
Which I do,
My love will forever be true,
Now as I grow older once again,
I ask myself,
Father where are you?
Inside my life I see a tunnel,
Running through that tunnel I hear a voice,
Do I go or should I stay?
Trusting my gut I do,
A smile on my face,
Father there you are!
poem by Qeeony Luv
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Im Ok
Once upon a time there was a girl
In her early years she had to learn
How to grow up living in a war that she called home
Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm
Hurt me to see the pain across my mothers face
Everytime my fathers fist would put her in her place
Hearing all the yelling I would cry up in my room
Hoping it would be over soon
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And Im ok
I often wonder why I carry all this guilt
When its you that helped me put up all these walls Ive built
Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door
The echo of a broken child screaming please no more
Daddy, dont you understand the damage you have done
To you its just a memory, but for me it still lives on
Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so, so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
Its not so easy to forget
All the lines you left along her neck
When I was thrown against cold stairs
And every day Im afraid to come home
In fear of what I might see there
Bruises fade father but the pain remains the same
And I still remember how you kept me so afraid
Strength is my mother for all the love she gave
Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday
And Im ok
Im ok
song performed by by Christina Aguilera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March of Memories
Left, right - left, right . . .
We march today for memories (the grizzled Digger said)
Memories of lost dreams and comrades gone ahead
Comrades bloody war took, dreams that men have slain
(Left, right - left, right . . .) Not ours to dream again.
There was Shorty Hall and Len Pratt, Long Joe and Blue,
Skeet and Brolga Houlihan, and Fat and me and you:
Bright lads, the old bunch; eager lads and keen
That first day we marched down thro' this familiar scene.
Dreams were ours, and high hopes went with us overseas.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) And now 'tis memories.
We march again for memories (the grizzled Digger sighed)
Memories of lost mates, of foolish hopes that died.
First, Shorty got his issue on the beach at Sari Bair.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) The vision of him there
Brought the dawn of disillusion. I needed little more
To blood me to the butchery, the filthiness called war.
Shorty, like a limp rag, slung there anyhow,
Sprawling on the warm sand like I can see him now.
Always was a merry mate, a rare lad for fun.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Shorty, that was one.
We march today for memories; and they come crowding fast
As each year adds another page to the story of the past.
Pratt went west at Mena Base; raved of home and peace.
(Left, right - left, right . . . ) His was a kind release.
For a Lone Pine shell-burst got him; and he was less than man.
'Twas a sniper's bullet bore the name of Brolga Houlihan.
We called him Happy Houlihan, the man who took a chance.
Then the Reaper paused and plotted for the rest of them in France -
Except Long Joe, the luckless, a youth ill-shaped for war.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And Long Joe was four.
We march today for memories. Little else had we
When we marched home as veterans. Blue and you and me.
For Skeet went with a night raid, and none came back alive.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) So Skeet, he tallied five.
Five gone and four to fight; us and Blue and Fat,
Who vowed he was too big to hit; but a whizz-bang settled that.
Yet Fat was lucky to the end - an end that held no pain.
All hell erupted where he stood; and none saw him again.
And Blue marched, and you marched, and I, a war-torn three.
(Left. right - left, right . . . ) Marched with memory.
We march again with memories (the grizzled Digger spake)
One year? Ten years? How soon shall we awake
To glorious reality? For lately it would seem -
(Left, right - left, right . . .) - we march within a dream.
Where Shorty is, and Blue is, and Happy Houlihan,
That seems the only real land, with rest for weary man.
For Blue went out three years ago; and cruel slow to kill
Was the war-god, the grim god who claims victims still.
But you and I, old Digger friend, will soon march with the rest.
(Left, right - left, right . . .) In the Army of the West!
Today we march with memories, and years dull the pain.
But God help the young 'uns, mate, if they must march again,
(Left, right - left, right . . .) For the young must ever dream.
But we march with memories, and ghosts go at our side -
Len Pratt and Long Joe, whom men say have died.
And you walk like a ghost, mate; you do not turn to hear.
Or is it - Did the boys say you passed last year?
Out of this tangled dreaming has your troubled spirit flown?
(Left, right - left, right . . .) And I march alone.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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My Unicorn
I finally went outside the house
Walked slowly down
Its stairs
Moving towards the path
That my father trod
Many years ago
The same path that mother
Too walked upon
Years ago to follow those
She loved most
Now, taking the same path
I too, look for those
I truly love
The white horse that father left
That mother caressed
With her tiny hands
The little bird that barely
Knew how to fly
Fallen and then learned to fly
Away
The face of the white princess
Powdered cheeks with
My kisses my sweet memories
I had seen almost everything
That was left
Except the white horse
That they have taken
Away from me
She was my only unicorn.
poem by Antonio Liao
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The New Knowledge
Early September, days are getting shorter and evenings longer;
the breeze that blew had pockets of cold air, a reminder of
things to come. Dawn when I got up looked into the mirror
and saw my father’s aged face. Lucid now and for once fully
conscious I had been asleep for forty years and lost the time
between youth and old age. In a foreign country and I could
no longer remember how I got here, or how to leave.
I pressed fingers to my cheeks, in quiet despair, finger marks
on inelastic skin that only slowly faded. Father, why did you
let me sleep so long, how can I now recapture my adult years?
A rumbling through the house, a picture in the living room
fell off the wall; it was of my mother and she looked so young.
The intensity of my reawaken consciousness overwhelmed me,
walls fell and naked I stood in the ruins of my unlived life
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Oft saw my dad cry (to dad)
A father's love
Can never match
A mother's…
At least in
Children's eyes…
A father's love
Cannot be shown
As easily
As in
a mother's sighs
A father's love
Is of labor dear
More distant so by nature
than… in tender
nurture lies
A father's love
Is of hidden tears
And rarely
Shown raw
emotions
Held within
A rough façade
Of gentle heart…
Of kind and
Cloistered emotions
Fathers withhold
Within themselves
Caring feelings (and memories)
Of small smiles
And big wide eyes
Fathers hold back
Tears inside while…
drying other's eyes
Yet fathers weep Inside,
so deep…most children
Know not why
And more than once
I caught a peek of tears
In my dad's eyes
And on his cheek
Fathers are …
of stern stuff made
Yet fathers
…Often cry…
poem by David Whalen
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The Only Father I Have Really Ever Known
You never stood up and told the truth, you never even tried-
You simply took so much from those around you, and simply died-
Without contrition or even shame for all that you had done to so many-
Instead, I was left to carry guilt for a Father that did not have any.
The simple fact that you helped to procreate me, seemed to suffice,
As reason for the deceit and bias of many, the iniquitous price
That I was asked to pay, simply for who my Father was,
When I am no more responsible, for what my Father does,
Than those that you victimized before your untimely demise.
This is a most prescient fact that some do not stop to realize:
I was just a little boy then, yet became privy to your maleficence
As a man of 36, when my love for you became abhorrence;
When the man I knew as my Father died once again,
Where the sorrow for a Father lost, became the bain
Of my very existence-the thought that I mourned you
And the loss that I felt, when I was never warned, you
Were a monster-a fact that I should have known-
Instead, I held on to your memory, where I could have grown-
To distance myself from who I believed you to be,
To grow as a man, for all the world to see,
Unbiased by my connection to you, a man I never knew.
Instead, deceitful asservations, of things I could never do,
Continue to haunt me, as a spectre of unspeakable torment;
Where, my erstwhile inherent rights, I now sadly, silently lament.
It is not from you though, that I seek relief
From the horrors of my heart's abominable grief.
I look to my only real Father, in Heaven above,
Who only shows me compassion, truth, and love-
Not all that which you espoused, and have done.
You stole so much from us, but I will have won
When I can finally say I do not loathe you any longer,
Only what you have done-then I will be so much stronger
Than I am now, and then perhaps, ready to finally go home
To Heaven, and to the only Father I have really ever known.
-Maurice Harris,21 October 2012
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father I Still Love You
I tried so hard to love you
But you never really cared
I tried so hard to trust you
But you were never really there
I wanted you to love me
But your heart had grown so cold
I wanted you to play with me
But money was your only goal
And now that I've grown older
And I look back on the years
I remember all the anger
The hurt the pain the tears
Father I forgive you
For all those wasted years
And I try not to remember
All the hurt the pain the tears
But father just please tell me
Did you ever love me once
Or was I just like leftovers
That you throw out after lunch
Father I still love you
And I'll never let that die
But father just please look at me
Say you love me to my eye
Father I must be honest
When you left I found another
My Father up in Heaven
And Jesus my loving Brother
They were the ones who loved me
When you had never cared
They were the ones who saved me
From a life of hate and despair
Father I still love you
And that will always stay true
But father will you love me
Because your child still needs you.
poem by Daniel Sweetnam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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