Repose Of Needles
For Sanju,
who says she is
rotting within,
and dampening
And once again,
for my father
If you need to stand or lie
in the shade for awhile then
do so as farmers do, as does
my father who farms his despair
in hot sun then lays beneath
pines in cooler shade to rest,
to dream that activity between
dirt and sky means some lasting
thing in its doing even though
his ruined life cannot make
it right between clouds and
his obsession with weeds.
Between the garden and the
untilled woods he rests,
repose of needles and bark,
mid-day sun insisting its
question slowly. Night dawning
he at last in darkness stands
returned from day, a practical
vision of green shoots to come
from blistered hands.
Up hill to the colder house,
he wills himself to life-enough,
speaks some words to wife,
arcs widely around silent wary
children and lives to be old.
His loss of memory leaves it
for others to forgive, to live on
in the rich rot of that ongoing
question which nurtures his
memory haltingly, gracefully, on.
Astonished, I have arrived at
love for him who hurt me most,
have learned to obey the odor
of decaying things compelling
hands to dirt. Within the dream
of staying, the tendril and the heart,
my aging body takes on my
father's form.I, too, like him,
am a farmer when I note how
it moves in its winding reach,
rooting, rising, giving horizon.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Unexpected Fire, A Son's Cycle
for my father,
Major Warren Falcon, Sr.
Of Childhood Lamenting - Song of Experience
Might I sing it then?
How many stones he hauled
Not bidden but rough forced
Hand by hand from coagulate soil,
A boy's red wagon rusting
Full of spilled tumble-stones -
Unyielding stars between the rows, silent.
Brooding father with
His hoe to weed or ridge
To row or brow to strike
Made of a boy a mule and plow
At Earth's farthest Edge
Too ill-tilled to nurture
But more to fracture.
Land and the boy turned by his
Father's bad blood to waste.
Both boy and corn obedient
To his And Greater Hand grew tall.
He hid there late summers in
Fateful stalks, grew small on
Shadowed afternoons reading of
Exiled, royal Odysseus and scores
More, native born and slave, driven
From homing soil beyond surf, beyond tall
Mountains and fragrances desert-walled.
He waited, a stone for a small boy's hand,
Or a God's, to haul him or throw,
But it was his father's.
I often stare now at my own to know the difference...
*
Adolescence - Praising.
Cleaning Fish On Good Friday,1966
Fate, then, heavy in a boy's hand
hoists dead weight to a nail on a tree.
His knife scores firm flesh yielding
beneath freshly limp gills - there is an
instrument made just for this, pincher-pliers
for catfish skin - he grips and tears,
uses his weight down-stripping smoothly
bare to such luscence little ribs of roseate flesh.
Only the overly large head, the ugly face
whiskered within gilded monstrance,
remain pure to form, thin-lipped and
mocking, restrained by depth pressures,
sustained on surface trash, dead things
that sink down it's treasures.
Tenderly sing, then, to a nail
a boy's blood catechism -
hands, minds, meant to be stained,
mercy's quality unstrained
neither by will nor gill.
Scavenging flocks gladly fill their
gullets inhaling entrails tossed
in supplicant bins.
In unison Gregorian they scream:
There is a nail for me
plain, a chorus of barks** -
splintered lips
punctuated surprise,
glossolalia of rivers
now given weight.
One can only will
praise to 'The End',
and spill, after pliers,
one's silken guts in offering.
**A catfish when brought to shore barks, a rasping, barking discharge of air.
*
Middle Age - Awareness of Mortality Sure
Our Mutual Confession
Descending the hill in unplanned rehearsal
for what has become a destined association,
our mutual confession is invisibly drawn.
A ruined one-room church appears,
a cemetery plot weed-hidden behind this
once sentinel house long remote to men and
as present as God, my own presence is bound
to his who stands confounded now as three,
one above grave, one within it, and me
in between, one eye upon him, the other
upon sagging dirt where bones and a
ragged shirt share an unexpected
moment of veils confused in sunlight's
disarray of leaves, wood, of stone and
shadows frozen there, not breathing
for us all in unstoried astonishment.
Here horseflies feast.
Upon weathered stones are
only creases where once were
names, dates, even God's Word,
chiseled by a now unknown hand,
an impression only, one among many,
reduced to no plot but that of Providence
left to surmise swatting at Eucharistic
flies proving only flesh and only blood,
a flood of questions eventually exhaled,
and exhaling still, waiting beside
a white rock with wings,
ignoring fire,
leaning into changes.
*
Middle-Age - Acceptance - Forgiveness
Repose Of Needles
For Sanju,
If you need to stand or lie
in the shade for awhile then
do so as farmers do, as does
my father who farms his despair
in hot sun then lays beneath
pines in cooler shade to rest,
to dream that activity between
dirt and sky means some lasting
thing in its doing even though
his ruined life cannot make
it right between clouds and
his obsession with weeds.
Between the garden and the
un-tilled woods he rests,
repose of needles and bark,
mid-day sun insisting its
question slowly. Night dawning
he at last in darkness stands
returned from day, a practical
vision of green shoots to come
from blistered hands.
Up hill to the colder house,
he wills himself to life enough,
speaks some words to wife,
arcs widely around silent wary
children and lives to be old.
His loss of memory leaves it
for others to forgive, to live on
in the rich rot of that ongoing
question which nurtures his
memory haltingly, gracefully, on.
Astonished, I have arrived at
love for him who hurt me most,
have learned to obey the odor
of decaying things compelling
hands to dirt. Within the dream
of staying, the tendril and the heart,
my aging body takes on my
father's form; I, too, like him,
am a farmer when I note how
it moves in its winding reach,
rooting, rising, giving horizon.
*
Reconciliation - Radiance:
Psalm
What can I bring to harvest but these
bruised hands, these cracked stones?
Praise to the fruit tree long untended
beneath mendicant stars.
A boy above, his Radio flyer** lightening full,
Reaches to me now en exilio, the farther flung.
Father, my most difficult, most diffident friend,
My most loving curse,
A strange and fragrant Grace arrives -
Look.
From unexpected fire
comes frail, brief blossoms.
*William Shakespeare
**Radio Flyer is a toy company, famous for it's red wagons.
The company opened in 1917, the year of my father's birth.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thank You Father
Thank You Father,
For giving me this life that I live.
Thank You Father,
For giving me the chances to forgive.
I believe in You...
I pray each day to prove that I do!
Thank You Father,
The Keeper and Ruler of Love.
Thank You Father,
You're ALL things on Earth...and Above.
You opened up my eyes,
Your power can not be denied.
I dream of a life that is full
And giving!
To dream of a world
Where all people live in peace.
In true harmony released!
Thank You Father,
My soul will flow eternally.
Thank You Father,
The breath that I breathe
Just could not be.
In everything I do...
I ask of you
To help me see things through.
I know You are there with me every hour.
And each day...
It is clear that You're everywhere!
With You...
Why should I despair?
Thank You Father,
For giving me this life that I live.
Thank You Father,
For giving me the chances to forgive.
In everything I do...
My purpose here,
Is pleasing only You!
Thank You Father.
Thank You Father!
Thank You...
Father!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Rising
Cant see nothin in front of me
Cant see nothin coming up behind
I make my way through this darkness
I cant feel nothing but this chain that binds me
Lost track of how far Ive gone
How far Ive gone, how high Ive climbed
On my backs a sixty pound stone
On my shoulder a half mile of line
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Left the house this morning
Bells ringing filled the air
Wearin the cross of my calling
On wheels of fire I come rollin down here
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
Theres spirits above and behind me
Faces gone black, eyes burnin bright
May their precious blood bind me
Lord, as I stand before your fiery light
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
I see you mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
Theres holy pictures of our children
Dancin in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin on the end of my line
Sky of blackness and sorrow ( a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness ( a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear ( a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow ( a dream of life)
Your burnin wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mercy on me
My body now worn and riddled with pain
FATHER have mercy on me, LORD have mercy on me
Your hand on my life even before my first breath
FATHER of my life, LORD of the wholeness of my life
My life entirely in Your hands
I do not question why my suffering
FATHER Your healing hands on me, LORD Your healing hands on me
My faith and trust in You always
FATHER the author of my being, LORD Your grace upon me
No blame, my life is in You
Your Grace keeps me from long lonely nights
FATHER Your presence comforts me, LORD Your peace in me
Loneliness will never defeat me
FATHER of everlasting love, LORD Your sacrifice in love
Humbled, I surrender to You
Though my breathing becomes harder
FATHER Your breath in me, Lord Your life in me
My eyes become dim, and life escapes me
FATHER, the giver of life, LORD, the healer of my being
Your healing in me, now and forever
poem by Lisa Finney
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Sins Of Our Fathers
It's a seed planted
By the history of our forefathers
That is in you and I my brothers
Yes! You too my sisters
Are plaqued by the same seed
The same seed that assumed
A place of comfort
In the garden of my father's father's father,
Further and farther from root level
It found its way through the bark to us the branches
And now as we grow leaves
And new buds from us emerge
The seed find its way to our children and so I pray,
Let us children be not held accountable
For the sins of our fathers
We suffer from self doubt and self inadequacy
We ask ourselves the same question
That others before us asked
Who am I to make it,
When in my family no one did?
The question is in you
The question is in me
Yes! You can trace it back to the seed
The same seed that history
Planted in our forefather's garden
To us poverty is congenital
And mediocrity congenial
But how can I believe in myself
When even my father doubt me?
I guess it all begins with me
As a man thinketh, so is he
So hear me father I pray
Let us children be not held accountable
For the sins of our fathers
poem by BiggRich Shuping
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Father Forgive
Father forgive,
The hatred which divides
Nation from nation
Race from race
And class from class.
Father forgive,
The covetous desires
Of people and nations
To possess
What is not their own.
Father forgive,
Our greed which
Exploits the work,
Of human hands
And lays waste to the Earth.
Father forgive,
Our envy,
Of the welfare
And happiness
Of others.
Father forgive,
Our indifference,
To the plight
Of the imprisoned
The homeless
And the refugee.
Father forgive,
The lust which
Dishonors the bodies
Of men, women,
And children.
Father forgive,
The pride which leads us,
To trust in ourselves
And not in God.
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mercy Me
Father where are you in my life?
I look for you..., in my wife,
I dream you hold me up,
Let me drink..., from your cup,
You know I left you, to taste life,
Father..., all I found is strife,
Mercy... is my cry,
Love please... don't you die,
Father... make it quick,
Let Mercy be your trick,
I found in the heart of man,
A hole just the size of a can,
It is easy to forget,
With love there's no regret,
Please see me for who I am,
Father.., I am just a man,
Through pain and loss of life,
Comes a knowing of what is right,
I see now that I left your side,
With no thought of where to hide,
Deep within my heart it lies,
A sea of love to you it cries,
Let my fear and greed...,
Please not betray your seed,
Don't bleed a tear from your eye,
But lift me up so not to die,
Father..., I need your vision,
Endless love, no more derision,
Mercy... is my cry,
Love please... don't you die,
Father... make it quick,
Let Mercy be your trick,
My dream is but to alight,
Your heavenly steps, tonight,
To feel your warm glow,
And your love..., to know,
Then all men will leave fear,
For you have shed your tear.
April 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
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The Father, The Son And The Gun
The sky was burning by the window pane
And a shadow lurked proceeding to the woods
And a little boy behind the frame
Stood monitoring the steps of his father's boots
A possessed shot gun in his father's hand
And stepped out close before his eyes
Before a bird could realize its dream
A shot was fired in the sky
Down the bird fell rustling the leaves
Stooping through the trees till it met the ground
And the father he walks into the green
Towards the loud thud of the sound
And the boy he ask "mother why is it
That father he carries a gun around with him
And shoots out at the cloudless open sky
And murders and ends a voice that sings"
"It's alright dear, there's no need to worry
Your father is a brave man and you must learn
He is not a murderer for killing a bird
Come on you silly, there's no harm in it son"
And the boy inquires his father "father why it is
That you shoot a bird without distress
Don't your hands tremble, father?
Don't you think twice before your finger press? "
"My boy can't you see, its bloody destiny
That brought the chirping birds to a still
I gave it many a chance to run and hide
But it kept appearing ‘fore me to kill"
And so the boy takes the shotgun from his hands
And says run father run, and you better hide
The father laughs with a big cigar in his hand
A shot was fired, a BANG! ! echoes in the night
poem by Dipti Gurung
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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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Father Sun
Strange imaginations, children hide your secrets well
Is it not temptation, makes you kiss and makes you tell?
Theres a traveler on the airwaves, and hes pleading for my heart
Light up all the candles, Im still in the dark
Hurry operator, get redemption on the line
Pull back the curtains, I think I recognize those eyes
If love is so criminal, then my penance due
cause Im still holding onto letters written straight to you
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
I swore I needed you in the back of my mind
Laid the beads upon the table, right beside the wine
It seems that we say forever, but forevers just a word
And I will be coming back for you is all I heard
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
Please dont forget me, father sun, father sun
I think I hear him whispering
Put your hand in my hand and you wont feel a thing
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, save me, save me, save me, save me, father sun
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Confused Poem) Daily Deception
In To This Life And The Next.
I Must Confess
The Distance Between Now And Then Could Be Greater Then I Can Stand. Tell Me Are You A Friend.
Your Eyes Say One Thing.
You Say Another.
Whom Am I To Believe.
Daily Deception.
It's Okay Cause She Does It.
That's What I Hear Over And Over Again.
Question Their Motives,
Question Their Actions,
Question Everything In The Search For The One And Only Truth.
It Hides Right Beneath The Skin.
Hide Your Emotions And Try To Defend.
Its A The Winter That Never Ends.
How Can I Believe Anything You Say.
Its The Question On The Top Of My Mined Every Day.
Does That Make This Okay?
Never Knowing Which Way
The Winding Road Will Turn.
To The Left Then To The Right.
Look Into Their Eyes Under The Firelight.
That Will Tell You Everything You Will Need To Know.
I Must Know.
I Must Turn My Back On You.
I Trusted You,
I Let You In. And You Stole Everything I Believed In.
A Loss Of Faith.
A Loss Of The Greatest Sensation Of Touch And Taste.
How Sweet Was That Embrace.
But Now Its To This Life And The Next.
Walk Backwards For Awhile.
Trust No One Except With A Fictitious Smile.
All Because Of A Single Lie.
Hope It Made You Die A Little Inside.
For It Did Me.
My Life Will Be Complete
And I Will Have The Time Of My Life Getting There.
But Don't Despair,
It Wont Be With You,
Oh No It Wont Be With You.
Its For Me,
Its For You,
I Say Its For Me,
Oh Its For You
In To This Life And The Next.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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No One Can Separate Us Ever
You know I love You...
And would never place anything else,
Above You!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
Those doubts have gone from me.
Eternity with You is my destiny!
I view Your creations with eyes opened,
And cleared of delusions that once sat
Upon my troubled mind!
I know Your power...
And it would be senseless to believe,
I am not part of it!
All the time with me You visit!
When I sit masquerading with things to impress...
I know I have distanced You from me,
And that leads to my duress...
As I make attempts to surpress,
With depression on a heavy chest!
That once kept me stressed,
To defeat my very best...
Attracting woes and unhappiness!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And without hesitation,
I know I can come to You, My Father
To demand obstacles on my path be removed!
I want to prove my faith with every step I take.
I am here on this Earth to do Your will!
I've emptied myself of evil deeds of others...
And druthers they have,
They would love to see me fulfill!
I'm not having that tax me...
Like the strife of daily living,
Or witnessing others who live unforgiving.
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And without doubt,
I know You are there...
To help remove all sorrows or 'bouts'
Of struggles I fight that might incite my despair!
I am too aware You are there,
And everywhere I cast shadows!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And no one can separate us,
Ever!
You know I love You...
And would never place anything else,
Above You!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
Those doubts have gone from me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Father’s Day
A father loves his children,
More than words can say;
Dad’s the head of family –
This was so till today!
A father toils for children,
From morn, throughout day;
So that all can eat good food,
He gives his hard-earned pay!
A father teaches children
And tells what life is;
A good dad chides and canes you,
If studies, you do miss.
A father tells his children
About love of God;
He reads the Bible verses,
And warns about God’s rod.
A father trains his children
Moulds their character;
He helps them know, right from wrong,
And live a life better.
A father guides his children,
Walk on sinless roads;
To live a life of fortitude,
And righteousness, he goads!
Let children wish their father,
‘Happy Father’s Day! ’
Thank God for giving this nice man –
A blessing till this day!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Wood Handled Shovel
I take its smooth wood in my hands
to turn the earth as spring returns.
I make straight furrows in my garden
Like those before me worked the land.
This was Dad's shovel years ago
And in my father's callused hands
it coaxed our plot to yield us fruit
as good as any farmer's stand.
Outside of faded photographs
So few of father's things remain
His house torn down, his stuff dispersed.
his kingdom shrunken to a grave.
Of all the things that I possess
this little shovel made of wood
is my link to Him I loved
and to a time when life was good.
J.M.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Who Is A Father?
What is a father or better yet who?
Who is a father? What does he do?
Is he a man with a spouse? Does he live in your house?
Does he get up early and stay up late?
Just to make sure there's food on your plate?
Is he caring or daring? Does he talk real fast?
Is he wise and unerring? Does talk about the past?
Is he short or tall? Does size matter at all?
When you hear his voice do you answer his call?
Who is a father? Did you get the right one?
Who is a father? Are you a daughter or a son?
Who is a father? Did you get one?
I have a Father! He never leaves me alone!
In the arena of fathers some answer the call
Then there are those who always fall
Short of God's vision for their life
God gave them to you to pray they get right! !
Who is your father?
Did he leave before you were born?
Make God your father! !
Then you're neither forsaken nor forlorn!
Who is your father? Does he know you by name?
My Father in Heaven knows your very frame?
poem by Sabrina Robinson
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The Best Dad In The World
My Father is a man of pride
Who often takes a swig, whenever he is down?
But despite all that
He still the best father in the world
Whenever he came from work
He'd cook and do our meals
He taught us how to clean a house
And how to make our beds
He taught us how to laugh and cry
And not be shy in front of eggs
He only ever smacked us
When we were bad, and had no ears
But still he's the best dad in the world
My father is a man of pride
Who takes no crap from any man?
He may be quite as a mouse
But when he speaks he brings down the house
Because he's a story telling man
He's a caring man
Who's endured the worst throughout the years?
At his own hands drinking his beers
But even after all that
He's still the best father in the world
Because without his hand in my life
I would not be who I am
So I say thank you
BECASUE HE IS THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD
poem by Kaila George
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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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Dead Boys Poem
The child sits and weeps,
How could this be all that matters,
Why did this have to hurt so deep,
How could this be life?
The child sits with the pain inside,
He sits with his heart in his chest,
‘How could I have died? ’
Is all he thinks, he forgets the rest.
The child’s eyes closed so tight,
His fists clenched so strong
He feels the night,
He knows everything that happened was wrong.
The child stands and looks into the houses light
He stares at not the window,
Not at the sight,
Yet only for the weeping widow.
The child stands holding the gun,
The gun he died holding,
As he remembers his father killing him, his only son
He remembers his father scolding.
He knows he took a life,
Yet he knows his father took his,
He remembers not the taking of his father’s life,
Only the pain of his father stealing his.
His eyes so dark,
His mind so lost,
His hand tracing deaths mark,
As he remembers it’s cost.
He remembers the scene, the time,
He remembers the look in his father’s face,
He remembers doing the crime,
He remembers seeing the pain in his father’s face.
But then his memory stops,
And reality takes place,
For this is when he dropped,
This is when life left his face.
He walks past,
To eternity; to roam
Of all his memories this shall be his last
For this is the dead boy’s poem.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Father?
At times I feel so hurt because i got wounded so deeply.
I know You are there for me, Father my peace and comfort.
I turn towards you murmuring the word 'Father' and slowly.
I look towards you and pour out my pain and the much hurt
Even though I do not have a loving father to this day
I have You who is my true caring Father who loves me fully
When I am hurting, seeing other children happy today
due to the fact they have a loving father who loves them wholly.
I am so hurt, looking at my friends who have such a great live.
I am not enving them, all I want is to be happy and to be loved.
but then I see You turning towards me, You show me so much love
Lord You comfort me like a true father would, I feel so loved
Like a ray of sunshine I sense Your gentle kind fatherly comfort
I pray to you Father when I am in misery, pain or when happy
I realise I have You my true Father so I am free no more hurt.
I pray to you Lord, day and night so that I am no more weary.
When I am sad I slowly cry out to You in a desperate voice of mine
I call onto to You saying these words, 'Father, Father, Father'
I do like calling You father because I get the joy, oh so divine.
I love You so deeply My true compationate Heavenly Father.
When I pray I say, 'Father My provider, Father My God'
My whole prayer are full of the words 'Father'.......father, father
I am thankful that You gave me Your truly fatherly love Lord.
I love you so much even though I have no loving father.
I do not know why I refer to my God as 'Father' not Lord or God
but I find this peace and satifaction when I do call You father
I love my Heavenly Father so much, oh how you give joy, oh God
I somehow find comfort when call on You, You are my only loving father
Oh how Jesus loves me...............How I love Him
poem by Trulyyours Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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