Happy Fathers Day

[Angeline]

to all you dads, wherever you are. It's Fathers Day in the USA and we have a houseful of kids to celebrate it with. Whether you're a dad or, like me, you're remembering your father, I hope today is good to you.

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything has *something* to do with poetry, right? So here's a Mini-challenge:
Write a poem about a father. Any father, yours or not, will do.

 

[Angeline]

Daddy

Sometimes I picture you
in the Ardennes walking
into mayhem, no gun, a red
cross, Delancey Street bravado
and an agile mind. You are invincible

to me, carrying me up staircases,
driving impossible distances sleepy
roads past orange groves, the Lincoln
Tunnel to the symphony of midtown,
Newark, Passaic or the intimate dawn
of a tiny kitchen,your coffee
spoon chiming a soft alarm. I wake
you leave another factory day.

At night I sit on your lap we watch
Combat, Twilight Zone, we share
root beer, ringside seats in thunder
storms counting the miles one
mississippi, two mississippi. We chatter
and dance I follow your feet. We catch
minnows, listen to La Boheme, wonder
worry argue. You are invincible to me

until you aren't. Then I feed you
chocolate ice cream we sing Can You
Bake a Cherry Pie, Darling Billy? your voice
cracking past your lips from a broken
smiling face. I rub your back once

more the highway cries driving home.

 

[minette05]

Dad

Early memories sitting swirling
On the chair with wheels
in the office you cleaned late at night
I didn’t know until years later
This was a night job you did
so you could go to Seminary in the day

Wanting to be just like you
At your side as you built things
Your hands strong, cutting boards
Digging, planting, playing the flute
You praised me when I mowed the whole yard
The whole yard by myself
You took a picture and I didn’t know it until later

Wanting to be just like you
I cried when you said the college you went to
is too expensive, that I should go to the state university
But then you found a way,
And I found a way
After all, it was the town of my birth
Your graduation present, me

Wanting to be just like you
I majored in what you majored in, biology
Should I teach, just like you
Or strike my own path, just like you
Our paths different but the same
You heal souls, I heal bodies
We both teach, just in different ways

Wanting to be just like you
Long hours talking about your mother
She was Irish you know
She was strong and sensible you said
You have her eyes, her smile
You tell me and I soak it up
She flows through you into me

Wanting to give to you something from me
8 years old learning how to bake a pie
Your favorite pie, cherry from scratch
You tell me it tastes just like mom’s
And I burst with pride
Making things from scratch is the best

Wanting to be just like you
I wander and you say why do you move so far from home
And I remind you of your wandering
Unsettled, no longer in that small town
Searching for something, some place
that has no name, No place
Wanting your family all around

Wanting to be just like you
Nurturing, loving, kind, generous
Fierce, loyal, steadfast, giving
A prairie storm when riled
An ocean of calm when content
They say we are cut from the same cloth

 

[Angeline]

That's wonderful, minette. Thank you for sharing it.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Daddy

I have a letter
in your hand
written at sea
the year of my birth.
You know I'm here
but never hold me,
drowning in that endless
swell. "What was he like?"
The persistence of children.
They try, with memories
and photos but you were
never real, just black and
white smiles.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

What lovely memories, eloquently expressed and both very moving, thank you Ange and minette

 

[HoHoBomb]

for drown
http://youtu.be/R5E-NUFEzm4

 

[Angeline]

I have a letter
in your hand
written at sea
the year of my birth.
You know I'm here
but never hold me,
drowning in that endless
swell. "What was he like?"
The persistence of children.
They try, with memories
and photos but you were
never real, just black and
white smiles.

The persistence of children.
They try, with memories
and photos but you were
never real, just black and
white smiles.

 

[minette05]

Thank you Angeline, for the nudge to put into words my memories of my father. Beautiful thread

 

[BonBon1976]

Small fingers grasp a large hand, when it closes it swallows the little digits.

A tiny face gazes up certain of her acceptance, the gaze that is returned is certain of its protecting.

Two quick steps to match one longer stride, a father and daughter side by side.

 

[Angeline]

Thank you Angeline, for the nudge to put into words my memories of my father. Beautiful thread

Thanks for adding to it. I really enjoyed reading your poem.

 

[twelveoone]

to all you dads, wherever you are. It's Fathers Day in the USA and we have a houseful of kids to celebrate it with. Whether you're a dad or, like me, you're remembering your father, I hope today is good to you.

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything has *something* to do with poetry, right? So here's a Mini-challenge:
Write a poem about a father. Any father, yours or not, will do.

miu

A Card You Will Never See

Oh, Dad, Oh Dad
How very sad
To have killed mother today
Now where will we bury her?

And how in the fuck to we spell
Gerainimun
g-e-r-a-n-i-u-m

Thank you
Father

 

[Angeline]

miu

A Card You Will Never See

Oh, Dad, Oh Dad
How very sad
To have killed mother today
Now where will we bury her?

And how in the fuck to we spell
Gerainimun
g-e-r-a-n-i-u-m

Thank you
Father

Made me think of this play, which I actually had to read for some class.

 

[twelveoone]

Made me think of this play, which I actually had to read for some class.

love goes a long way
if it is
preserved and in a casket

 

[darkerdreamer]

I have no idea where to put this since I tried to make it my first submission in years but it was rejected due to "underage sexual relationships" (I guess technically true, but come on that is just ridiculous in this context)

Act of Contrition

She said I'm going to be a daddy.

I was fifteen tender years when I heard it the first time
and swore to any god with a hearing aid to save me.
I was a part-time janitor, part-time high school fuckup,
now she asked me to add in full-time scared shitless and come up with a sum that doesn't leave me in the fetal position on the floor.

I had a birthday then my daughter did, you turned number zero
and I was scared of you like a time bomb that would inevitably leave me covered in your blast like a cartoon villain with a hint of failure.
Instead, I found a way with you snuggled up in a papoose fashioned out of a towel as I swept up the floor of a closed fabrication shop.
Your mother was strung out and so was I but we were trying,
teenagers make shit parents, addicted ones more so.

She said I was going to be a daddy.

Its Friday the thirteenth and I have five months, three weeks and some odd days until you shift my life in other strange ways.
We talked about "options" but that word echoed in our ears started with an "A" and ended in not-an-opt-"ion".

I'm going to be a daddy.

After she sleeps when I wake up with sheets
clinging to my frozen sweat,
heart like smashed photographs in frames of youth.
Frames of you.
I let you slip between my arms
couldn't catch you as I was juggling a healthy addiction with a side of baby.
I let one slip and can't help but question my conviction.
I let one slip and can't help but feel like you should be born
to any other fucking human being in this planet other than me.

I will always be your daddy.

From the moment your heartbeat jumped onscreen
like the newest contender for America's most beloved,
I was papoosed.

 

[todski28]

to all you dads, wherever you are. It's Fathers Day in the USA and we have a houseful of kids to celebrate it with. Whether you're a dad or, like me, you're remembering your father, I hope today is good to you.

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything has *something* to do with poetry, right? So here's a Mini-challenge:
Write a poem about a father. Any father, yours or not, will do.

Thank you father, for bashing mothers face in,
for kicking and beating your boys,
thank you for your alcohol fuelled rages,
for hitting that man in the chest with a
sledge hammer, near killing him at my feet,
I was only 9, and had to cradle his head
while he coughed up blood, shoulder destroyed,
lungs pierced by his own ribs,
waiting for an ambulance

For dragging me from one pub to the next
while you pickled your brains
and ignited your endless wrath at the world.
Your rage and thirst un-slaked regardless of
what you drank or beat

Thank you father on this Father's Day,
for without those lessons, of what not to be,
would I still be the same man I am today?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Thinking back at how you could make anything
from bits and pieces at hand, a bicycle (mine)
a shed, a chicken shack and a beautiful garden
filled with roses and antirrhinums.

But not a child's life worth living.
Did you know? How could you not?
The marks from the beatings.
Words that tore me to shreds
and made me want to die. No child
should want to die, should they?
But I know she did it to you too, I heard her
as I lay shivering in bed at night
and at least you never deserted us.

I just wonder still
could you not
have protected me?
so small and
defenceless.

 

[todski28]

Thinking back at how you could make anything
from bits and pieces at hand, a bicycle (mine)
a shed, a chicken shack and a beautiful garden
filled with roses and antirrhinums.

But not a child's life worth living.
Did you know? How could you not?
The marks from the beatings.
Words that tore me to shreds
and made me want to die. No child
should want to die, should they?
But I know she did it to you too, I heard her
as I lay shivering in bed at night
and at least you never deserted us.

I just wonder still
could you not
have protected me?
so small and
defenceless.

Big hugs!! melancholy memories mercilessly hang around, years after they should be gone!

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Big hugs!! melancholy memories mercilessly hang around, years after they should be gone!

They do indeed. I once asked her (when I was adult) why? She never denied it just said "I had to keep you in order". I just don't remember being that bad to warrant that sort of treatment. From fragments I have heard about her childhood, I think she got knocked around too mainly from one of her elder brothers, so perhaps that's the only way she knew. On reflection it may be better that I never had any kids just in case I learnt it too, the train of events stops here.

 

[Angeline]

I have no idea where to put this since I tried to make it my first submission in years but it was rejected due to "underage sexual relationships" (I guess technically true, but come on that is just ridiculous in this context)

Act of Contrition

She said I'm going to be a daddy.

I was fifteen tender years when I heard it the first time
and swore to any god with a hearing aid to save me.
I was a part-time janitor, part-time high school fuckup,
now she asked me to add in full-time scared shitless and come up with a sum that doesn't leave me in the fetal position on the floor.

I had a birthday then my daughter did, you turned number zero
and I was scared of you like a time bomb that would inevitably leave me covered in your blast like a cartoon villain with a hint of failure.
Instead, I found a way with you snuggled up in a papoose fashioned out of a towel as I swept up the floor of a closed fabrication shop.
Your mother was strung out and so was I but we were trying,
teenagers make shit parents, addicted ones more so.

She said I was going to be a daddy.

Its Friday the thirteenth and I have five months, three weeks and some odd days until you shift my life in other strange ways.
We talked about "options" but that word echoed in our ears started with an "A" and ended in not-an-opt-"ion".

I'm going to be a daddy.

After she sleeps when I wake up with sheets
clinging to my frozen sweat,
heart like smashed photographs in frames of youth.
Frames of you.
I let you slip between my arms
couldn't catch you as I was juggling a healthy addiction with a side of baby.
I let one slip and can't help but question my conviction.
I let one slip and can't help but feel like you should be born
to any other fucking human being in this planet other than me.

I will always be your daddy.

From the moment your heartbeat jumped onscreen
like the newest contender for America's most beloved,
I was papoosed.

This is just incredible, powerful writing. I'm sure that magic "fifteen" is what made them reject your poem. If you changed it to "eighteen," they'd take it but it would not be the same poem, would it? I think whoever read it missed the point because you are talking about you and you're not underage now and it's not even an erotic poem, but maybe I'm just missing whatever they saw in it. None of that takes away from how moving it is.

This thread has taken an interesting turn. Not every poem about Daddy is a celebration though I believe yours ultimately is.

 

[champagne1982]

I didn't know my daddy,
Mom says he was a sailor
the youngest papered
on the Great Lakes.

But what does that mean
when the hand-me-down clothes
are outgrown and siblings
return from a trip to the zoo
and talk about the monkey
and the elephant;
and the one left behind
just feels like another exhibit.

But, that's all right
since he was the only man
you truly loved. So, why did you let him
get away with not loving
his misbegot?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I didn't know my daddy,
Mom says he was a sailor
the youngest papered
on the Great Lakes.

But what does that mean
when the hand-me-down clothes
are outgrown and siblings
return from a trip to the zoo
and talk about the monkey
and the elephant;
and the one left behind
just feels like another exhibit.

But, that's all right
since he was the only man
you truly loved. So, why did you let him
get away with not loving
his misbegot?

I keep coming back to read this, it is so compelling ((hugs))

 

[darkerdreamer]

Friday the 13th again, it brings up memories that turn somewhat poetical I suppose.

This isn't the story of a father, just a boy who had a kid.

I remember shoplifting the first packs of diapers I ever owned. I filled up a shopping cart with size ones and rolled it right out the door of a Safeway, then hopped on the back bar of it and rode it down the hill outside like I had a thousand times when it was filled with beer instead. The difference was, once I was 10 blocks away and clear of any heat instead of feeling invigorated, I hunched down in the gutter and threw up.

I remember being so in over my head I didn't know which way to look to pull my head out of the sand. Coming home with eyes so bloodshot from gagging and crying in an alley that the mother of my nearly-here daughter thought I was drunk. I thought I was worried about being a junior next year until that line appeared on the pregnancy test and I knew what real fear was. You were the most terrifying, then most beautiful, then most heartbreaking thing that ever existed in my life.

I remember begging, borrowing, stealing, fighting, and doing anything required to keep you clothed and fed. I went to school and worked a full time job and two part time jobs then hustled as much as required to make sure you were warm even at minimum wage living. I remember the day that your mother threw me out and used her family's connections to revoke any right I had to you due to my drug addiction even though she was just as addicted to the same drug.

I remember the call I got three years later that you had passed, I don't remember driving 24 hours straight with the intention of murdering your mother for using that poison while she was pregnant and contributing to your death but the police report reaffirms it. I vaguely recall crying and fitfully sleeping in my car for three days before I could bring myself to drive away.

I'm going to be a father again, Maria. I am so happy, and a lot less scared. But my heart still fucking breaks every time I buy diapers to prepare. He should have a big sister. I should still have a daughter. I miss you so much I had to box up all of your pictures. I'll still pull them out and sit in my car to cry so my wife doesn't have to hear it, but it doesn't make it any easier.

I hope you sleep well Maria, his name is going to be Jeremy.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Oh my goodness I'm in pieces here for you

 

[champagne1982]

DD my heart feels like it will implode. If you're being autobiographical, my wishes are that you remain healthy and stay on the path darling. It's never easy and the pain never goes away. I only hope your current happiness can stand beside that sorrow and help you bear it as long as you need to.