His Father Had
his father had
long died 20 years ago
and at his age now
when he coughs
at night
unable to sleep he
hears the very
kind of cough
that his father once
had
pain sometimes
has
twin sounds despite
the passage of
the years
despite the urge
to simply forget
and let things
like ships take their due
course and
sink
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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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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What Kind Of Father Are You?
Do a father leave his three daughter down and dry
Do a father come only three times out of a year
What kind of father are you?
Should a father leave his daughters just to take care of an other women son and daughter...
What kind of father are you?
Can a father broke a promise that he promise 10 years ago
Should a father be ashame of his three daughter looks or weight
If so what kind of father are you?
poem by Valentine White
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My Father Died
In the middle of the summer,
when I was twenty-two
and wore sneakers with no socks
and was growing my first beard,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
when my son was one years old
and lay in his playpen
in the hardscrabble grass of the backyard,
making living sounds
and grabbing for fistfuls of air,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
days before somebody walked on the moon,
days after the bright-colored beginnings
of my daughter's life,
my father died.
In the middle of the summer,
when, as a father,
I first sat out on the porch past midnight
listening to the haunting, faraway comfort
of late-night, west coast ball games,
and the tender wisps of breathing of my own two babes,
in the middle of the summer
when I first had trouble sleeping,
and before we had the luxury to know
each others' hurts and hollows,
hopes and heartaches,
in the summer of 1969
(several sad and sorry seasons
beyond the end of his living) ,
my father died.
As did,
as did a part of his boy.
poem by Will Thomas
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My Sister, Lost and Found
I had a sister for seventeen years,
She went missing, many tears,
We wondered what she was up to,
We didn't know she was forced to,
By her sick boyfriend,
This abusive boyfriend,
He controlled her every move,
Kept her weak, there's no prove.
When father died, the saddest truth,
When father died, the loss of youth,
Broken spell of the gnome,
Born again, little sister calls home
Father's prayers were heard,
Sad, No father's love, this lost bird,
But mother's love still remain,
To cut through the years of pain,
Her journey on trust has just begun,
My sister, has returned to the sun.
Copyright Philo Yan August 25,2012
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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In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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.
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
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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His First Hug
his first hug
was not his
mother's
for
she died
on the first
day of his life,
neither his father's
coz he died
when the war
came about
long time
ago
not his
grandpa's
neither his
grandma's
no, not
hers
it was
from his
gay teacher
in the context
of a molestation
but he did not say
any word about it
simply because it was his first hug and it made him
feel wonderful
that he could
not really
forget
it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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when I met my father
When I met my Father
There are many cargo ships in the bay of Cascais this Monday afternoon
and I thought of my father; he too had been a seafarer.
Last time I saw him I was eighteen, sat on a bus going into town, he saw
me but I looked out of the widow pretending I didn´t see him.
When he looked straight ahead again his face was impassive but I saw
tears trickling down his chin. When the bus stopped I hurriedly left,
this old fool I thought, most likely drunk. Rain cooled my flushed face.
During the war years of 1940-45 my father sailed on ship delivering
war material to Britain and Russia and he had seen ships being hit by
torpedoes and men drown in the cold Arctic sea. When he came home
He couldn´t settle for a normal life and back then there was no help
for war damaged seamen, and many of them became drifters and only
slowly died. My father was a drunk I had seen him before sharing
a bottle of booze with his mates in the park, and I despised him and them.
No, my father never played a role in my upbringing and my childhood
was needlessly hard because of him. But today, sitting on the terrace
overlooking the blue bay, I remember his tears.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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Easter Monday
(for A & J)
20 years since their father died
two grown-up sons
at his grave with a rake & a spade
the elder one recalls a boozy night
he fell asleep between the grave’s
short dense trimmed junipers
a pillow his obscure father’s stone
awoke freezing here 5 am
fog over the pond
where the younger brother bathed as a kid
fog over the graves along the slopes
they have no memories of their father
poem by Mikael Ejdemyr
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Hiram Helsel
Air -- "Three Grains of Corn"
Once was a boy, age fifteen years,
Hiram Helsel was his name,
And he was sick two years or so;
He has left this world of pain;
His friends they miss this lovely boy,
That was patient, kind and brave.
He left them all for him to mourn --
He is sleeping in his grave.
He was a small boy of his age,
When he was five years or so
Was shocked by lightning while to play
And it caused him not to grow,
He was called little Hi. Helsel
By all friends that knew him well --
His life was sad, as you shall hear,
And the truth to you I'll tell.
His parents parted when he was small,
And both are married again.
How sad it was for them to meet
And view his last remains.
He was living with his father then,
As many a friend can tell;
'Tis said his father's second wife
That she did not use him well.
Just before little Hiram died --
His uncle and aunt were there --
He kissed them both -- bid them farewell,
They left him with a prayer.
Now he is gone, Oh! let him rest;
His soul has found a haven,
For grief and woe ne'er enters there,
In that place called heaven.
poem by Julia A Moore
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My father, My father
My father, my father,
I love he,
my father, my father,
made me see,
how beautiful this world really can be.
My father, my father,
said to me,
my daughter my daughter,
come see me,
I wont be around forever, and i have things that must be.
My father, my father,
dont die on me.
[I wrote this while my father was in the hospital, I'm sorry to say he never got to leave. R.I.P October 7,08.]
poem by Dakota Ellerton
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Thank you Heavenly Father
You are the one and only true God
Thank you heavenly Father, for being the on who has and still
working on my behalf
I think...no I know my puny mind could not figure
the whole thing out
not by myself,
I'd lost my sanity had it not been for you
years ago 'Thank you Father'
You are GOD and there is no other
and there will never, never, ever be another
Thank you Father
for giving me peace
you know how I run to you when I'd get alarmed
especially when I have a heavy heart while shedding tears
Thank you Father for forgiving me of
disobedience, contrary, behavior 'Thank you Father'
thanks for not allowing me to die in those sins I was in
Thank you Father for our union
poem by Sylvia Loven Carter
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Father, son, spirit
The father conceives his son
the son grows with his father
the spirit allows the heritage
Father, son, spirit. The father says sweet things to his son
the son is a rosebud to his father
the spirit remembers the instant of conception
Spirit, father, son. The father works, gladly
the son at school, learns much
the spirit, lovingly, joins them
Son, father, spirit The son makes his father, a good father
the union of father and son,
is the work of the spirit of love
Spirit, son, father.
poem by Teresa Gonzalez-Lee
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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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