“To live is to learn“
He said as he held his crying son
Between sobs he felt fresh tears seeping into his coat
Damp reminders of times he himself broke down
Feeling the pressing weight of life and it’s expectations
He held the boy at arms length

“There was a time not too long ago…

The magnolias were in bloom
Sweet summer consumed sweet home
Alabama sang from the back of a black pickup
Doors open and tailgate down we loved the sound
Touchdown! rang across white cotton fields
Swaying in the gentle southern breeze
Whose caress cools the heat of the day
That buzzes with whirling dragonflies
And Hovering Toms humming to a bees melody
Blue Jays fought Bluebirds under blue skies
Pocked by slowly drifting cotton clouds
Lazily shape shifting into reflections of the land below
…
A rabbit, curious, ready to bounce
…
‘Ol Bo, the bird dog, pointing to a fresh ****
…
A deer, alerted, spooked by murderous cawing crows
…
All of this, seen by a boy in a tree
…

“Until he fell”
The father whispered to his son
Rolling up his sleeve he showed him the scar
“You see, my boy, I have broken a bone or two…
Some hearts
… Some dreams
Said things I didn’t mean…
Yet those magnolias still bloomed
The bees still buzzed
And birds either love or hate the color blue
Such is the nature of nature:
It is alive because it has learned to live“

A Poem by 1SP

Yours, by the first time I laid eyes on you,
Yours, after all we had been through;
By the time we had first embraced,
I knew that my job was to see it take place...

That big old tree house with two swings beneath
As stars in my skies align each time you breathe;
Just say a prayer and tell me what is a wish of yours,
And I'll never stop until God says I fulfilled my purpose;
Like you're thriving in a true greatness like
Yours, like you walking in the greatest life called
Yours, I'll keep showering you in a lifetime full of fun;
Everything you can possibly need and want,
I will pursue it for you until it's yours.
Yours, all things you dream you can be,
Yours, all things you can mean to me;
For a moment of lifetime to build a memory
Of you being right here with me...

That big old tree house with two swings beneath
As stars in my skies align each time you breathe,
Just say a prayer and tell me what is a wish of yours,
And I'll never stop until God says I fulfilled my purpose;
Like you're thriving in a true greatness like
Yours, like you walking in the greatest life called
Yours, I'll keep showering you in a lifetime full of fun;
Everything you can possibly need and want,
I will pursue it for you until it's yours.

You know I will pursue it until it's yours
Malik, you have a dad you can rely on,
You have a dad to plant your goals on,
Harvest all of yours one after one...

Ⓒ Official 1SP

This poem is featured in the book,'ACT LIKE YOU KNOW II: Extradition x Epigraphs'

https://amzn.to/3QnyDy1

#1sp #official1sp #1sppoems #yours #poemsforkids #fatherandson #parenting #fatherhood #actlikeyouknow #extradition #By #epigraphs

Come to me,
Oh look and see,
Please tell me that I don't belong.

To this place,
O' to this world,
To this situation I hath rote.

But negative,
Nay I say,
Tis a situation so grand,
That it can be only sung out in the tongue of yore,
For it is only the most noble of mantles,
Of Fatherhood's door I adorn.

It shall be I,
I be armed with simple tools,
A fresh ***** or bottle,
To assuage my young liege lord's woes,
For betwixt the soggy ure or rancid scitan,
I dread knowing such knowledge,
But my sacred duties of ****** I shan't ignore.

So for now,
Oh humble bards and wanderers,
Listen to this tale no more,
Create such joy and celebration,
For upon this day,
My Firstborn son is born.

Fatherhood is like carpentry,
Crafted with patience and care,
Each piece measured and cut with precision,
To build a home that's strong and fair.

The foundation, a steady base,
A father's love unwavering,
Like sturdy beams that hold up walls,
Through storms and winds unrelenting.

A father's guidance, like a level,
Ensuring every step is straight,
Teaching lessons, shaping character,
Like a master craftsman with every trait.

As children grow and set leave,
Fortified wings are left empty,
He never left until the job was done,
His masterpiece finally won.

So here's to all the fathers out there,
Your dedication, like carpentry,
Is a labor of love that never fades,
And builds a legacy for eternity.

The husband of the mother is presumed
          to be the father of the child.
We think it best that one man should be doomed
          to bear the risk the seed is wild.

He's tending the garden.
Earth on his hands
Sweat on his neck.
Sprinkling seeds
From freshly spent flowers.
I can't see his eyes behind his Ray Bans
But I know they're focused, delighted
Observing the occupants and visitors
In his cultivated oasis.
To keep the garden nurtured,
protected,
is critical.
He worries when the storms roll in.
How will they fare?
But he does what he can.
He rids the area of weeds
And cares for slender stems.
It's a promise kept
To tend and till.

In the garden he's a father too.

I remember twirling around in circles, bare feet on the gray concrete floor of the one car garage.
The space filling with the thick smoke from your cigar drifting about, filling both our lungs with the poisonous chemicals.
My five year old self wearing a loose fitted Barbie dress,
“Daddy, look at me! I’m a Princess!” I shout with laughter, posing dramatically.
“Not now, the adults are talking!” You said sternly.
I cower away from you and go back to my childish dancing,
Oh, how badly I wanted your validation,
Your love and attention.
But I was a mere child,
Not worthy of your time.
Perhaps, that was how I learned to be silent,
To be submissive.
How I lost my voice,
But did I ever have one to begin with?
You stole my voice before I even found it.

~sdr

At one point I called you father, and meant it.
You were not my father by blood, simply by marriage.
I had longed for a father figure for as long as I could remember,
A man who would love and raise me as his own.
The good memories were brief snippets of happier times,
While the bad were vivid, distinct memories that lasted for what felt like hours.
A nightmare that I could never escape from,
They were engrained in my memory like the words to my favorite song.
I wish I could forget all the difficult memories and focus on the good times that we had together.
What little they were, anyways.
I wish I could forgive, the way my five year old self did,
Oh, the love and admiration she had for you.
Now all that was left was anger and a bitter resentment.
The anger and confusion that came with the abuse that you perpetuated.
I would never call you Father again, if I ever saw you
I would look at you in disgust and pity,
For you will never know true, selfless, love.
And for that, I feel sorry for you.

~sdr

The snapshot of Now
folds in the middle:
me on one side,
kids on the other.

The snapshot of Then
split in the end --
me torn apart,
them with their mother.