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The loss of your father,
no matter how old you are,
changes your life forever.
Your dad is your protector
who keeps you safe and secure.
You never really get over the loss.
You learn to live with the loss,
and he is never far from your thoughts.
There is an indescribable amount
of grief after losing a father.
Losing a father often means
losing a protector,
a guiding hand,
a best friend,
and a superhero.
But focusing on all
the incredible memories
you shared and the amazing man
he was can help bring light into your darker days.
No matter how old we are, we still need our dads, and wonder how we’ll get by without them.
D Lowell Wilder Apr 2018
Moved around a lot
-Cockle-jocked kid
plastic with newness
Trailers dusty
roses blousy with thorns and white
pecked leaves mottled.
Resist these yards’ allure
avoid the
crackers’ friendly waves
Pedal to the Haven
piles of fill, construction
reduced tombs of left over
concrete
bricks mounds of playtimes
trenches in which to ****
off.
Trenches in which
mosquito larvae swim
skeezle-legged and
willow branches are
whips
pieces of drywall
soaked grenades and
wooden
are the guns.  
Summer haircut flat nest of
stubble
face and scalp burnt.   Enough
pieces of bikes to Frankenstein
one fine ride.
From the top of the hill
mawed youth
rumbles down to barrel
roll crescendo’d
stops.  Let the
good
times.
Close out the day draw its
petty dread adrenalined
Panting cuz you are
late and he said
six.
Sectioned eight
pink stucco flakes and
sweetened lead.
Tatty shades
shriven.
He’s a tar cracked heel
small white dot
white
blink
blot
thinks about a
lot, these yards
landscapes drifted, curled with
feet to face, conserve his
heat.
Freedom of a bike;  it's not a crime to be poor;  dread
Alienpoet Oct 2016
Have I captured your soul?
Your tone sepia as if nostalgic
A memory a place held in my heart
Can I hold your words a little closer
They feed me in the dark dreary night
Sometimes your words are as colourful as a child's painting
There's no faking sincerity
Your words cast a rainbow over me.
Abimael Kercado Jan 2016
Sorrows of the world.
A child that cries, an angel that fall.
A child that starves, a thousand of stars fall.
A child that is sad, a human heart stop.
And for a child, this heart will stop.
JWolfeB Nov 2014
I have been waiting
for her to pick me off the shelf

To remember me as fondly
as I dream of her nightly

Wanting nothing more than to be
used like her favorite toy

The one she played with as a child
when holding each other came simple

For her to lay me next to her heart
during the dim nights under gods shadow

Giving up on the complexities
of the never ending day before us

While engulfing each other in stories
of an emotion we remembered as love

— The End —