Jungdok 1d
I went to church today by myself. How hypocritical of me, identifying myself as an atheist but still continuing to attend masses, never missing one.

Everything was normal. The priest started his homily with a joke of how all the restaurants would be filled with families, celebrating father's day. A tear escaped my eye. That's when it hit me, it was father's day. It was a day that for people like me, wasn't special. That's why the church was filled with fathers and soon to be fathers. The priest continued with his homily, saying that fathers should instill and inculcate to their kids the importance of God being the center of one's life. I cried. Not the loud cry, but tears were running down my face. My heart hurts. My heart was crying. Maybe, I was stressed, like I usually am. I was weeping in silence while the priest continued with the mass. Only now have I realized how empty I've become.

Emptiness was a feeling I never knew. It was a feeling I was familiar with but refused to recognize. I was afraid to be weak. The last thing I need was a pity party. But at that moment, I just let the tears stream through my face. I didn't care if people were looking at me with sympathy on their faces. I was suppressing this feeling for so long, that when it was finally released, it felt like my system was being crushed.

Even if you never stood as a father to us, even if you never acknowledged me as your daughter, even if you ruined and altered my life, you will always be my father.

I realized that there is no sense in harboring hatred towards you, you're one of the reasons why I became strong and independent. You're one of the people, who somehow, shaped me into who I am today.

We may never be comfortable with each other, nor speak to one another. Things might never be okay between us, but know that I always acknowledged you as my father even if you never did and I am grateful to you for making me experience life, even though it sometimes sucks.

Happy father's day, dad.
Happy father's day. :)))
I walked a mile in Mother’s shoes,
Before turning around.
I realized everything I’d done,
And crumpled to the ground.

For all my tears she wiped away,
She cried a hundred more.
I heard her praying late one night,
For all God had in store.

I lived a live of pleasure.
She lived a life of pain.
She always wore a smile,
Though for all she lost I gained.

And although I’m still changing,
And growing everyday,
Her simple midnight whispers,
Have always stayed the same.
they'd all grow up to be lunatic assholes
and if i happened to put it there
no women i know is quite dumb enough
not to have that abortion
is why i would never have children
Skye Jun 1
You're the mechanic
And I'm probably your best invention
Because you gave all the parts
That made me the way I am now.

From worthless static,
To beyond innovation.
Every piece of junk
Turned into working gears;
I never expected
This kind of transition.
A fueled, robotic model
Capable of envisioning
Beyond the gray matter.

But your creation
Learned to be alive.
From being automated
To self-regulating.
Every working gears
Turned into flesh and blood;
I never expected
This kind of transformation.
A breathing sentient,
Finally free from your dominion.

All this time,
You pushed me
Through the incompatibility,
To reach the maximum
But then I burned out
And eventually got a ticket to the trash.

My theory is that,
I overloaded
Because you overdrived.

So, I guess I wasn't your best invention after all.
My first poem in Hello Poetry.
Deep May 29
Within my infinite love
Lies Chaos.
In this galaxy of hollow emotions
Where my heart became eclipsed.
Where I can't protect your soul
And my feelings crash and burn.

I smell your suffering
And I catch a whiff of fear.
The pain.
I feel the cancer spread.  Violently
Waving my finger
As I cure it with my anger.

Avoidance.  Suppression. My strong old friends
Fighting for the answers.
In this galaxy to be won.

But the light is out.
The fire is gone.  As I slowly dig my grave
And frown my way to death.
Did it work?  Or did I make it worse?
In this galaxy ruled my nature;
In this galaxy owned by love.
A poem about the incredible pain and sadness I have worrying about my daughter who has some emotional problems.  I spend all of my energy trying to make it better and forget to stop and appreciate how much it is affecting me.
Grace May 13
You are the drunk father at a ballet recital,

Who falls off the stage after shaking everyone's hands.

You are the body that brightens my life.
I wrote this in a challenge to "Write a three-line poem about lemons without using the following words: lemon, yellow, round, fruit, citrus, tart, juicy, peel, and sour."
we all come from the same beginnings
cradled in our mothers loving arms
warm and safe
filled with her voice telling
us what wonderful lives await...

as we ran into our growing years
she ran just behind guiding teaching
believing in us even when we didn't
and whenever the world seemed against us
it was her trusted hand that rescue us...

we became young men and women
so eager to strike out on our own
without seeing that we needed her
more than ever in our teenage lives
boldly we strutted on the stage of life
to stumble and fall
it was the life lessons that she taught us
that we reached for
was her everlasting light in our eyes
that kept us standing up and trying again

now as we grow old
we reflect on what it means
to actually be a parent
to guide our children
it is her life lessons
and her everlasting light in our eyes
the legacy of love passed one generation
to the next
This thunder
reminds me of the old times
when I would climb into your bed in fear.

I sleep alone now,
for the same thunder  
is now the lullaby
you sing for me
from heaven.
In memory of my late father
Devin Ortiz Apr 23
Let's talk time.
My time, it cannot be bought.
My time cannot be leveraged.
You cannot assert yourself,
Imposing your time, money or effort,
With the expectation I owe you a thing.

I'll respect your time,
But you best respect mine.

Though that's never been the case,
Power has been your tool, to buy the time,
Of those you could not even give a second.

So all these years later, when I've mastered time.
When I've learned to control, bide and enjoy, time.
You cannot, waste time, my precious time,
Nor can you come back and expect my time.
Impatient, once we were.
Patience suited the only option we had.
To wait for God’s precious gift.
Patiently we wait for her birth date.
We patiently waited to know her gender.

Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes turned to hours.
Hours turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months.
For nine months we waited.
29th January 2012, we got our treasure.

The waiting is but not over.
Now we wait to see her growth.
We patiently wait to see her teen years.
What kind of parent will she be?
Will God’s grace and patience lead us to her grandparenthood?
This poem is dedicated to my six year old daughter.
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