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 Jun 2014
Judypatooote
My dad lost his arm to cancer.
He was 61 years old,
did he let that get him down?
Heck NO...
The day he came home from the hospital
minus one shoulder and arm,
he jumped on his bike and rode
it down to our house,
which was a long block away.
balance, how did he do it?

Dad was always included in
all our neighborhood parties.
if he was sitting in my backyard,
he would be drinking a cup of coffee
with Jim, my husband.
If he was sitting in my neighbor Dennys backyard
he would be drinking a beer
with Denny.

Dad worked as a machine repairman
with out his arm for two more years.
Because he was good.
Dad bowled two times a week with one arm,
and he walked out at the Park
the days he didn't bowl.

My amazing dad, with one arm and no shoulder,
built my kitchen cupboards,
put up a ceiling in the basement,
build doll houses for my daughter
and the neighbor girl,
and also one for a church raffle.

My dad went to church every Sunday,
and when he was so ill,
the nun would visit dad and mom,
mom would play the *****,
beer barrel polka,
while the nun and my dad danced.

He was known by many, taught kids
how to bowl, including my son.
AND HE IS MISSED BY ALL....

This is a tribute to my daddy
named Fritz....
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY...

by ~ judy
 Jun 2014
Amitav Radiance
A broken heart
Its wound invisible
Yet it bleeds the soul
Of even the last hope*









© Amitav (Radiance)
 Jun 2014
Amitav Radiance
The gray pathways
Cobbled with stone
Time has entrenched
Melancholy in every piece
It leads to desolation
Yet he walks the beaten path
Bleeding his exposed feet
Blindfolded by pain
Numbness has set in
Every day as he walks past
Shoveling him away
Like a pile of dirt
Trashed away from life
Only to heap more misery
On the trampled heart
Its feeble cry unheeded
By the city, that walks past
Avoiding the dark alley










© Amitav (Radiance)
 Jun 2014
Hayleigh
And when the sun sets in my eyes,
And the still breeze of my breath stops blowing,
When the dawn refuses to break,
And the light of my life stops glowing,
I pray to God
You remember me, for all i ever was.
Let the catastrophe of losing me,
not taint your memory.
Rest in the knowledge,
that now, i am free.
 Jun 2014
Hayleigh
If every scar could write a story,
then inside of me lies a book.
If ever I dare dig deep enough,
to take a proper look.

To put pen to paper,
and bring to life, Past and Pain,
to scribble out
and exchange,
Words for Scars.
Reality and Truth.
To risk my foundations shaking,
my earth, Quaking.
and leaving me roofless
seems Ruthless.

If every scar could write a story,
then inside of me lies a book.
If ever I dare dig deep enough,
to take a proper look.
 Jun 2014
Hayleigh
And in my words
and the depths of my poetry,
i begin to unravel,
the real me.
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