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Zywa 6d
Dad makes clouds, makes them

hover, I am protected --

against the sun's rays.
"de wolkenverzamelaar" ("the cloud collector", 1998, Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer)

Collection "Palace of the Night"
Keli Jun 23
Awe **** my dad says as he chews his cheesy jaffal. Giving his unasked for comment on my mum’s Korean drama.
As he plops into the couch between us.
Glenn Currier Jun 20
His hand twisted the two wires,
          and the engine wondrously fired.

I yelled and cried when I broke my arm
          he easily wrapped it without alarm.

Sorry son, I can’t come to your game,
          the overtime list had my name.

Boy, there’s gonna be a delay,
          my big project is due today.

Your dad went out of town to speak,
          can’t play pitch and catch this week.

He picked up the phone and he heard me say:
          “Daddy, the cops wanna take me away.”

Tonight your dad’ll deposit his check
          then we can fix the car you wrecked.
Thank you Daddy for all you’ve done
“Don’t thank me, your mama raised you, son.“

I regularly tear up with both sadness and joy
              seeing a daddy squatting, listening to his boy.

Father-son ties
mix long lows and splendid highs.
Yes, there are tears and yearning
for more than his earnings.
But now I see how my dad’s hand
protected and provided,
how he taught me to take a stand,
and showed me how to be a man.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. This poem is dedicated to my dad, Cameron Currier, whom I now see as just a man like me with his limitations and his great gifts. I no longer resent all the days he was not available to me as I grew up. He worked hard for us in the petro-chemical industry in Louisiana and Texas. We always had a house and home with plenty to eat and he provided for my education in more ways than one. Later in life we talked and hugged and he would shed tears of joy when I came to visit. My love and appreciation for him endures.
Roland Jun 2
They took me to a hill, bound me to a rock and spilled my innards on the floor.

The woman cried a bitter stream of tears.

The man clutched the knife into his fist.

There was no stop to be had, no pause, there were no angels to come.

The outcome written on the stone below, marked by the scars of countless blades before.

A stream-like crack gleamed with red, its banks welcoming the flow like an old friend.

Someplace else a child is born. Future offering to desperate gods.
My dear Father...
The **** do I say? Such a way with words, as those cracked records claim.

You thought so too though, you always did say, but how are there words for a heart torn away? A soul ripped in half and this gut wrenching pain?

How you were a hero - I've heard so many say,
You taught, you motivated,
You wiped tears away. You existed to spread love - yet felt unworthy to claim.

The demons you fought
your silence so dark,
They'd never let you see,
Just how loved you are...

Unique love.
Each one of us precious, In the Michaelest ways.

You suffered so deeply,
And what scares me the most,
That though we all suffer, you were my stone.

Our heads have such darkness, a uniqueness WE shared. Though all heads have shadows,
Ours was a PAIR

You've helped me through so much,
I couldn't describe. Your wisdom, a sculptur, has guided my life. My biggest regret, you'd never accept, that you were a catalyst, that helped me to live.

You taught me so much,
you've held me in strife,
Sitting right with me, endless yarns about life.
Or virtually advising, from far distance lands.
But the space never mattered.
Your love had no span.

I wish you could've seen, and accepted inside,
You were so special, cherished, and kind - My Godlike of a guide, and when the world caved in, I sought YOU for advice. No one will ever understand me like you. What peace I can find comes from the Truth - that our yarns WILL continue, sometime I know soon.

Your wisdom and beauty, your insights to life, you've gifted me so much, I'll cherish inside. Our bond can't be altered, I know that, not ever, for good or for bad, I am you - forever.
This one is a lot more personal and less poetic in my opinion
Kassan Jahmal Apr 19
My daddy warned me; not to stay up late,
But how could I not cry, when the world looks
So much better inside of that screen?

My daddy never told me why, because we
were too busy crying.

My daddy warned me; not to give up on my faith,
But how could I not decide, to let go of faith,
When we’ve all lost our ways?

My daddy couldn’t hold his own,
With all the weight of the entire world.

All these tears, have run dry,
And I’m just bleeding out of my eye,
And it’s so hard to cry, knowing your soul has died.
All these tears, have already died.
Already died, already died, already died,
I don’t feel alive.

My daddy warned me, not to be so lazy,
But how could I not sigh, at any movement,
Feeling like we’re all about to die?

My daddy worked himself to the bone,
All with nothing of his own.

My daddy warned me, not to give up on dreams,
But how could I not tell him, we’re all feeling scared;
With so much pressure placed on our heads?

My daddy didn’t face all of his fears,
We're both running off scared.

But my daddy told me to, look up to the sky,
Even when I want to cry, with tears gone dry,
Someone is by my side, as Heaven also cries.

All these tears, are filled with life.
Filled with life, filled with life, filled with life,
And I’m still alive.
The last time I said goodbye


                              Safe roads

                              Good winds

to my father
who gave me life

I cried myself to sleep
for three days I would
lie there
In the camping tent

Clenching my hands
Around his shirt
still with his aftershave lotion

Maybe I knew it then

It would be the last time
I would see my father

The next time
I said


                              Safe roads

                              Good winds

To that stranger
Who shares my nose

I thought that maybe
I could learn from him
how not to love
Loving him is still a weird thing to do, I still remember the time I would run into his arms. Now, I just walk towards him.
fdwit Mar 15
Especially on gray days,
when the sky can only weep,
I feel your closeness

As the clouds shelter us
from all that has not yet happened
with a warm blanket into your arms
Simon Soane Feb 18
Its hard to deny the thought
you won't always be here,
because you won't.
One day I'll post if people want to mark your passing
they should get to a place
where your gone leaves that dreaded space.
But not right now:
now we can laugh
and you can hold my hand with love
as I'm getting off the bus,
we can argue about the merits of giving titbits
to that little tabby ****.
We can arrange to meet for dinner
in a greasy spoon
and after our fill of calories part with the words "I'll see you soon."
We can chat about football and how City win supreme,
you can peck my head
about if I'm keeping my flat clean.
Of all this I want more
but for the now
I'll be glad
that when people ask what I did last night
I'll reply that I went for drinks with my Mum and Dad.
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