pencil stub

There are two poems on this page


I haven’t seen my father in many long years;
we’d never been close, we’d never shared fears.
When I was a child, growing up with him,
He showed little affection, was usually grim.
A strict disciplinarian, he taught me what’s right;
A sensitive child, I was usually in fright.
My parents divorced when I was quite small;
when mother moved, of my father, I saw little at all.
But Oh, I remember how much I loved him,
watching television families, wishing WE were them.
We never shared stories, life, dreams, or tears.
We never knew each other, all through the years.
He was not at my wedding, he was not at my life.
He knew nothing at all of my pain or my strife.
Our lives grown apart; strangers; related by birth;
Though I thought of him often, my pride had worth.
I thought if I called, I’d hear indifference, and then,
all the pain and loss would rise in me again.
So years went by, trying to find the nerve
to call my Daddy, and say the first word,
but the vision of Daddy that I had in my head,
and the pride I’d inherited from him had been fed.
Not long ago, my sister called me to say
to make peace with my father, it had come the day.
She told me he’d mellowed, that he wrote poetry.
I thought of my father, no, it just couldn’t be.
She sent copies to me of the words he had penned.
They brought tears to my eyes, and I wondered then;
Why did he never let me know THAT man?
Why did he never let me really understand?
Why did I never know or see,
that my love for writing … came from Daddy?



My fondest memory of when I was small
was being woken by daddy, so strong and tall
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, yawning a tear
Quietly dressing, gathering gear
Out in the dark, the moon still afloat
Climbing into the car, pulling the boat
The boat in the water, the sky getting pink
out to sea; a thousand miles I think
The anchor goes deep, the sky is now light
The lines in the water, My whole world is bright!
A tug on the line, an excited shriek
Oh I wish we could do this every week!

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