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Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Little chick
under Abba's wing
intimate haven
of sweetest grace

Little child
learning to sing
of infinite joy
in Abba's face
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' " 
 Psalm 91:1-2

"He called a little child and had him stand among them. And He said: 'I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.' "  Matthew 18:2-4
Data  Apr 2017
Strange Fruit
Data Apr 2017
Tell my father (if you can find him)
that I, too, have died; tell him that I am dead, and

if I say, all paths have led to this place,
to this avenue where the olives grow,

let him know that I found some comfort there,
where the cherry spread its boughs and
lemons ripened in winter sun…

So, when that final day is done, beyond any
exact hour or minute, say, I stayed on and watched

as my old sol dipped, and that old moon rose
as yellow as that fruit’s faithless amrita. O bitter,

sour is the flavour of the mortal earth,
even as the red-kissed sky paints it not,

even as the slivered moon waits
and watches for its ghosts to disinter,
yet, from the winter’s cold no spectres stir:

they have no cure for that fatal cut,
no moment to revisit the drawing night.

But, I might not surrender, old man. If I may,
let me linger here beneath the opened arms
of heaven’s gate…

And wait… as shadows shudder beneath,
imitating forms that once stood here
in the glade where the sun still shone and would

not admit to anything other than a cycle:
as though returning was as natural

as this spinning orb.

While this whetted winter draws about, without
a warm hand to guide a laden pen, let me

begin and say again, ‘Tell my father that I am dead!’
Tell him, that I cut the lemon from the tree before

it was ripe, and I ****** ******* nectar **** until
I’d drained its heart, then spat its pithy skin upon
the road. Tell him, I walked the avenue and heard
the black fruit ***** beneath my impatient tread.

Say, I made some notes along this way,
and I left them sheltered beneath the olives’ spread
where, if he has the time, he can read

and perhaps,
perpend the thoughts that I was disinclined to speak.


_________________­_____________________
­
By­­ Data © May, 2014
Upon the suicide of my father...
Karijinbba Jul 2018
You are invited to come
to dine with me
From now through all Eternity, Believe in the father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
And dine with the Lord
as your host
To live in Heaven Eternally,
All you must do is.? 

R.S.V.P
~~
Kariinbba: Inspired by bible.
For years I looked at this words framed on my walls along with Foot Prints"until I remembered Lancelott my knight had mailed it to me on a card 40 years ago and just Like that he pierced my heart with his bow, his ray of light and my cup of thorns was no more
Cné Jun 2017
I think about him often
and on Father's Day, I dwell...
upon the things he gave to me
and taught me oh, so well.

I go back to those early years
when on my father's knee...
he'd give to me a special hug
and then he'd say to me:

"...life is what you make.
Don't look for special breaks.
Keep your chin up
when the world seems doomed,
for goodness sakes.

Always keep love in your heart.
on that you'll always count.
And when you do...well..
there's no obstacle you can't surmount.

You can be, all that you want
for you have that kind of power.
You're not as fragile, as it seems
though, I see you as a flower.

Do not be afraid to love
freely, with all your heart
I will protect you always
but you must also...
those times when we're apart

That day will come along
when my body falls apart.
And then, I must be moving on
but I'll remain forever...
within your heart!"


He left me in 2013
to go and be with God.
I knew he would someday
of course…
yet still, I find it odd...

that I can still recall his voice
from all those years ago.
And I'd just like to say that...
I listened, and I love him so!
Happy Father's Day!
What is a Father?
Is he a Person?
A Thing?
Or a Feather?
What is his Life?
Is it Carefree and Spontaneous
Or Tormenting and Strife?

Who is he in which a Person could know?
What are his Abilities which only he could show?
Does he Work, for the sake of a Family?
Or sleeps and pigs around, being a Menace and Lazy?

Who could this man be, to the Eyes of Children,
A Hard Rock or a Soft Leaven?

Does he Pile over Everyone
And takes Control?

Is he the Eagle, the Head of the Nest,
Playing a very important Role?

Does he impersonate Father Christmas
With all his Treats and Gifts?

Is he a Lover, with a Strong Heart for *******
Hugging greatly and giving Love-Lifts?

Does he Pray,
Or Face-Religious?

Or a Braver,
Or Spontaneous?

Is he a Disciplinarian
Wherewithin all Members under him
Are tuned to his Command?

Or a Freester,
Who gives his Kids their darling Freedom
Without any Demand?

Does he care,
For the People and Loved Ones around him?

Is he Provocative,
Uncaring for Anyone behind his Dim?

Mostly, he is the Grass,
Herding the Future for his Offspring?

Or the Lamb,
Stubborn and very Unwilling?

And so, whatever he is,
Or does,
A Father is a Father,
Anonymous or Specific
I wouldn't mind.

Just as long as he has
HEART, STRENGTH, FREEDOM and PROSPERITY,
KINDNESS, BRAVE, PROTECTIVE
And RELIABILITY.

I'll be Glad and Content. As any Son should be.
Steven Sep 2018
Electricity not born of light
but angled natured slopes
his eyes now free to breaths of alps.

Beyond the green orchard's bloom
lay the valley's casual streams    
nurtured by ages  
nestled by hills
the Autumn beiges.

Rich gusts of youth
under the sun,
                        aside the hills,
                                                atop the plains
                                                                          the youthful run.

Below branches of fruit - He springs
pure Crystal youth
near birds on the browns
in rhythm with times
of old comrade sounds.
Reminiscing about my father in his youth.
“You know, son… There’s a reason...
God had a reason to give you broad shoulders --
It’s so you could carry this load… It’s so you could hold up all these boulders.”

“But these boulders aren’t my own, so why did He leave me them to hold?”
I can hardly hold them now… surely I’ll collapse when I grow old.”


“You can’t think in terms of time, it is not a restriction by which He is bound…
Instead you must think it as your cross, think of the thorns upon his crown.
He will not notice the time; that’s a human concept we’ve created…
Instead he’ll judge you by the size of the burdens with which you’re weighted.”

“Well, that’s a relief, but how can you be so sure?
He’s never turned the night to day; I’ve never seen a disease he’s cured.
Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I struggle to have faith
When the world that he created has become this wretched place.”


“I can’t convince you that he’s real, I can’t show you how to feel.
But if I showed you cold and silence, would you say that they were real?
Yet these aren’t real things, simply the absence of others…
So you must look to the voids, when you wish to discover.”

“I hope that you’re right. I hope he’s up there listening…
I hope there’s golden gates I can admire, I hope that they’re still glistening.
I hope God can take my hand, and tell me ‘Son, you’ve done well.’

I hope to God there’s a heaven – ‘cause I’ve been living in ****.
Kevin J Taylor  Jan 27
Sally
"Don't be silly, Dad. I'm your only daughter."

"Yes. But you'd still be my favorite even if you had a dozen sisters and as many brothers."

"And your mother is my favorite wife."

"Oh Dad, you only have one."

"... At a time. And anyway, she would be my favorite wife even if the other wives were favorites too. If I loved them all as much as you."
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Holding hands to cross the street
Feel the sand under my feet
The way you twirl me, like a cotton candy man
I feel so girly as you wind each curly strand

When I'm growing up too fast
And the world demands a lady
You remind me of my past,
Though it often might evade me

Summer days and autumn leaves
Wading through the endless trees
The way you hold me when I just can't sleep at night
I lay there coldly as you slowly soothe my mind


After all is said and done,
So thankful you're the one
To bring back the daughter in me
Song lyrics for a country tune, written from the perspective of a husband-seeking daughter grown up.
Lazhar Bouazzi Mar 2018
To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi
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