Kwabena Antwi Nov 20

I consider myself to be an earthy person
Tree hugging Gaea worshiping son of the sun
My roots go deep and spread wide like hip hop culture
I bear no fruits
I carry no flowers
My story is written on the stripes of my bark
My essence brewed into bitters, putting hairs on the chest of men while coercing them to feed on my purpose
Live to serve
I die to serve no one

My father is an asshole
Like assholes come his father was an asshole too.  
I am not my father’s son!

My father stands for everything wrong with patriarchy. Everything he stood for he learned from his father.
I am not my father’s son!

My father wishes his son will forgive him. My father’s father wished his son will understand his path was different.
I am not my father’s son!

I may have come from his balls but my balls are bigger than his.
I may have called him Papa  growing up, but he certainly was never my father.
I may have watched him hurt woman after woman,
Watched mother’s tears flood the living room floor, left in disarray child after child after child after child...
I may have been hurt one too many times to ever remember that I am my father’s son.

Today, I am my father’s sun!
I will shine a light on this darkness that bore me
Driving away the night of hatred he leaves behind
Bringing a dawn of forgiveness, awakening hearts left in the cold.

I do consider myself an earthy person
Roots deep and wide

A fruit once
Of a tree with rotten branches.

Alisha Nov 19

A curious genie, an absurd soldier
There isn’t a burden he won’t shoulder,
When asked what makes his hardship worthwhile ?
He says, only seeing my girls smile.

They are all my princesses, he says
But with strong hearts for weary days.
My flying carpet takes them on new adventures,
For new experiences are always fortuitous ventures.

Faith and humility, his formative stands determination and will, his defining brand
When asked what makes his hardship worthwhile ?
He says, only seeing my girls smile.

You better love her more than I love her
Heal all her scars
Speak to her insecurities
Be her security
Show her loyalty
Respect and honor who she wants to be

I raised her
now it's your turn to raise her beautiful gifts
Love them and cherish them
Embrace them and adore them

Love her and she will love you more
She will never let you go

Tessa S Sep 5

Opa has many stories
Germany, Canada, America
Childhood, young adult, adulthood
Opa tells me great grandpa got taken away during the war
Never to be seen again
Rumors everywhere
Could it be true?
They say he wasn’t taken he left
Another family, then gone for good
Goodbye great father, didn’t you love them?
Dad doesn’t opa love me?
“He doesn’t know how to be a father, he’s never had one”
My father has a father, but does he really?
Never had a single hug
A father that’s there but doesn’t know how
I look at the man who loves me, the best father a person could ask for
But how did he know how to be a dad if his father was not one
“I knew what I wanted in a dad”
So many stories
An independent child who ran from the war
A father wouldn’t have changed the hardship
But did great grandpa know?
Leaving a family who loved him
His child, his grandson, his great grand daughter
All were affected
One man
One decision
A ripple effect

Francie Lynch Jul 28

Da never bought a froggy pool;
We weren't friends like friends in school;
We never played til we showered naked.
We didn't hike and shoot the breeze,
Nor dump or whiz behind the trees.
We never hit the links together,
And relieved ourselves in St. Andrew's heather.
We never streaked sorority dorms,
Or stood bare-assed in a storm.
We never stood shoulder to shoulder,
At urinals for a sneak peak over.
Swimming wasn't a thing for Da,
So we never swam in the raw.
And Da was never one to flash.

Near the end he couldn't wash,
I never gave a bed-sponge-bath;
But Clean my teeth, was what he asked.
Let me bring this to a close,
Da was always donned in clothes.
I never saw my old man's dick.
And that's the long and short of it.

I don't know. I claim authorship though.
Ink Jul 1

My name is my submission to male dominance
     I am somebody's daughter,
     somebody's wife.
I willingly call myself so
     It's because I love my father
     I love my husband
And I am honoured to be called
In his name

But sometimes
When a ray of anger rushes into my heart
By the feminine idea of self-respect
I wonder
     if my father loves me, why is his love trumping of my mother who bore me inside her body for months of restless ease?
     if my husband loves me, why has he never consider calling himself Mr. Mine, where he my husband and I his wife?

But I tuck these thoughts away
They are too balancing of power, too simply different.
I mustn't let the patriarchy hear, or I will dishonour my worth
As a woman.

Once upon a time
A childish boy full of tender and innocence
Loved his father like there was no tomorrow
He had everlasting joy because of his presence
And they played, danced, and sang without a sorrow

Until one day the father left without saying goodbye
And every promise he made became a lie
So the boy was forced to be a man and stood alone
Brave and strong in front but fragile and easily blown

Lost and shattered, he longed for a father
For it was just the boy's lifetime desire
unbeknownst to him, a Light was holding his hand all the time
And that Light mantled him even when he was covered in grime

His desire became a reality
He met the Father of all entity
So the old has gone and the new has come
A little boy no more, for he is Father's son

Then a prayer he made that his father to be saved
For the boy waits for him today so that someday he will be able to say,
"I love you just as He has loved you, Dad. Now and forever."
The end

My Father's Day gift to him and to Him
XfoxspeakX Jun 24

I've tried to talk to god but i think He stopped listening.
The same way I feel I tried to talk to my father but he already decided he was leaving.
So where do I go when my two fathers don't bother while I'm drowning in white water waiting for rescuing. Waiting for your hands to pick this boy up and say "son, I'm never leaving, never leaving again"
Father did you kiss me good night each night before you left to kiss your lover goodbye? Did you care if it was kind? Did you know the broken mess you'd leave behind?
My god is like my divorced father because I only talk to him on Sunday. After days of feeling ignored like a buey in the waves. My earliest memories of crawling into bed with you to keep warm and feel safe. Those memories are over two decades old and they still won't fade.
I remember my laughter every time I sat on your lap and you're tickle bug bit me till I thought my lungs would collapse, until I thought "this can last for ever" but that didn't happen.
You left a wife, a son, and a teenage daughter and left us all feeling like you'd never want us. Do you miss it at all?
Do you miss the snowball fights and cuddling your little boy to sleep at night?
My only memories of you and I are ones I tried to pull back because they make me wanna cry. Was the mistake your infidelity or was it me? Because you chose one and I believe it wasn't me. You were my king.
You left me to rule my life with this disease. A fear of abandonment and intimacy. And now how am I supposed to love? I can't see the forest through the trees, but maybe im blind so I can't see, anything. How could you do this to me?
Was my love, my smile, myself not enough? You had to take my heart too and break it along with all your old stuff.
I may never let go of my angry heart because even when I try to talk to God I wonder if His lover calls.
Will I ever be enough?
So when I say I can't love it's the fear you instilled in me. Like a needle shot into my arm to swim in my blood, I wish your love would swim in me. Definitely, intimately, swim with me. Infinitely.
Because I never learned to swim and I'm drowning saying Father save me. But night after night for twenty years slowly my childhood fears come to life.
Blood from our backs on the tip of your knife, dad why?
Why couldn't you turn around and lay back with your wife?

You're never coming home are you? No. You're never coming home.
You say you're just a stones throw
Well how do you know?
We don't know how far my tiny arms can throw,
What we know is I am prone to be alone
With mountains of sticks and stones
Laid on top of my broken bones.
And these words hurt me
"We are a broken home,"
And I'm just afraid to be alone.

We gave you our love
And you took it out of our home.
We gave you our hearts
And you away you drove.
I gave you my love.
You never got it in your head.
I gave you my heart
And you took it into her bed.

Dear dad, these demons, they're haunting me

I'm sure there are typos in this poem. This one was a tough one. I wasn't sure what to write about so I just started with the first line and kept going.
I found it hard to be a Christian and a lover of people when I have no relationship with my actual father. For most of my life my father and I had a minimal , service-level relationship and even attempts at suicide and joining high school sports couldn't bring us much closer.
This isn't made to depress anyone, this is to hopefully relate to several people who feel similarly.
Unknown Jun 23

Oh father, father, father.
Where have you gone?
What have you done?
There is a ghost that beginning to look a little like you.
Lets raise a toast, father.
To the man that is never home,
To the man who does not love,
To the man who never has a plan.

Oh, father, father, father.
Look at what you have done.
Your children have stopped caring.
Your wife has given up.
Who do you have left?
You live here, but you may as well not.
You make these promises and stab us in the back.

I love you, daddy.
Can't you see?
You've ruined me.
You've ruined my siblings.
You've ruined my mother.

Remember? Always and forever?
I think it is time to let go,
and say our goodbyes.

to the kids you feel as though their fathers do not love them, to the ones whose fathers are never home, to the ones who don't see their father as a parent figure - but simply a stranger.
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