Thank you Dad.

Thank you for your deep deep love.

For always making me feel so special and loved.

For teaching me to pass on that love to my own children.

I could not have felt more loved.

Thank you Dad.

Thank you for sharing with me your love of music and poetry.

For reading to me at bedtime and encouraging my love of books.

For instilling in me the love of words and ...

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It's cold outside, there he is.
Standing in the snow with the letter from his father.
Just found out it was his last letter from his father, regretting for that silly fight about christmasday.
Realizing that is was his last christmas.
Walking between those fast cars thinking and thinking.

What if I stop?
Is it all worth it?
Was it all worth it?
What should I do?

There he was, looking ...

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He was not really special 

Just an ordinary guy 

I guess you’d call him

A regular 

Joe 

An ex-army man

He took everything in his stride

He was a positive guy

He was happy to help: He rarely said 

No

Throughout his life 

He took it all on the chin

When things were hard he worked his way through 

He never asked why

He was easy going: he’d go with t...

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Rosebay, willow-herb and common poppy

Garnish each enchanting meadow

Sweet fragrances and alluring hues

Draw rapt villagers to every window

Flowers can be double-edged swords

Marking endless sorrow and pain

I can recall the time my father died

The old tin bath where wreaths were lain

Deadly nightshade or belladonna

Lurks on limestone and dry chalk

Consume th...

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I'm reposting this poem with the audio I recorded of it (as a song) to commemorate my father and the other soldiers who fought during WW2 in Asia - The Forgotten Army of Burma - for the 75th Anniversary of VJ Day

The Bayonet In The Shed

He put it there in forty nine,

in a woodworm riddled drawer,

wrapped it in a greasy rag.

A remnant from the war.

On top of it he laid h...

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Ye Tale Of Brave Sir Moppalot

I wasn’t quite there yet

So this story is told second hand

Of the bravest and noblest knight

To ever gallop over this land

He was sitting quietly at home

When a neighbour just down the street

Knocked on the castle door

To advise him to get on his feet

A princess in need of his help

Had called out his name in the night

Be...

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Son Of My Father

What did you do in the war dad?

I fought against Fascists, son.

And were you frightened there dad?

Did you want to turn around and run?

Yes, I was frightened there son

So, don’t believe the lies that are spun

About the death and the glory of war, boy.

There is death, but of glory there’s none.

Thanks for all that you did dad

A...

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never had a dad had to grow up fast, couldnt get over it so i live in the past

lonely and troubled i felt all alone, with little happiness, depression was shown

i fell into violence, drugs were upcoming, nothing felt better than the way that they were numbing

into trouble is what i always got, in and out of facilities, the recovery i fought

four years and my memory is grey, im always j...

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More and more
my thoughts turn to you
so aware of time
I’m the age now
that you were
when the pair of you parted
you got that rented house
on the edge of town

We’d stay at weekends
watching winter’s tide sweep in
standing in the falling snow
the garden and the fields disappearing
said ‘throw another log on the fire’
said ‘dad, your house is cold’

At fifteen, I was nothing
lost i...

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You ask if I believe in God...
How can I not?

To deny my Father
means I leave my existence
to some 30 year old predator
who impregnated a girl half his age
and left her to raise their child
in the wilderness, among wolves 
that feed on loneliness and despair.

Without my Father, I would never know
that after suffering comes deliverance,
pain leads to compassion,
forgiveness breaks b...

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You neglected me, 

didn’t protect me, 

abandoned me,

chose an abusive man 

over your children... 

I forgive you. 

I give you the

unconditional affection

never afforded me,

because I love you 

despite everything 

and I don’t want 

the past having 

power over me.

https://youtu.be/KtNYA4pAGjI

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The first time I saw you, your mouth held no words.
I would take you out and watch you marvel at the birds.

Your awkward waddle would bring me smiles.
There was peace in my life holding you as we walked for miles.

The screaming, the crying, the testing,
The laughing, the hugging, the learning.

As I helped you grow, and loved every moment.
Even the ones that involved your excrement.

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I was not there when he was made
I was not there when he was born
I was not there for his first birthday

I was, there to guide his first steps.

I was there when his mother voiced her disdane and pushed him away.

For the tantrums that felt eternal

The sick days that became my sick days

I was there as his father began a new family and forgot about his last.

When he had no food to...

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I remember hearing my father's voice

      from beyond the grave.

      No dream—a single, scratchy vinyl

      had captured his characteristic

      lilting, homiletic style,

      that seemed,

       in and of itself,

       to be the message—

       no surprises there,

       nor flights,

       yet a resonance

       that touched

       and stays with me

...

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I see the opening of your mind's eye, 

glittering like a starry sky. 

Asking yourself, how high? 

The iron will that says, I try. 

Go my darling, you'll fly. 

Full of joy, I cry. 

The apple of your father's  eye.

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I'm afraid to have kids
What if they get my depression
Or addiction
Or fucking alcoholism?
What am I supposed to say to them?

"Sorry kiddo,
Suck it up.
You'll soon find out,
Life just fucking sucks"

It's just not fair
To pass on an ongoing burden
To watch my kid suffer
Knowing that I can't relieve them

They're supposed to be protected
But I can't save them from themself
It jus...

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Life by Numbers

1. My father walks the sea-edge and is young, as a child is young.

2. My father's voice is hardwood, and timpan drums.

7. My father's eyes are tired.

16. The cyclone clouds hang swollen sheets above.

19. I am afraid.

20. I shall put fear at the bottom of depths the deep blue made.

25. My brothers' arms surround me.

31. We sit on the brim of laught...

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have you ever experienced
a love 
so strong 
you question your beliefs?

I'm an atheist.
I don't believe in a god
or an afterlife 
but
this love 
makes me wonder 
if over the course of time
our souls 
have been colliding 
and bonding 
and that's why
everything 
is so natural 
between us

I'm not talking about something romantic
but something innocent
for he has touched my hea...

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words

            no man should know

            or say

words

            no child should hear:

            parent, pray

            to be spared.

as he sat with his sons at home

and struggled to find

words:

he knew

            she will never return to us

he knew

            she is too ill

In a time when she was strong

for them

as her body weake...

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Note: there is some strong language in this. it's not too bad. it's not too excessive, either. one word in here twice, i think. and if you're wondering, yes, the colors mean something. and yes, im genuinely asking a question to you, the reader. and to the person this is about. but i pray he never reads or finds this. anyway, enjoy.

Am I selfish for wanting another hug? 

I handed you the...

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You were wearing purple today. Purple is going to be ×××'s color now. But blue has always been mine. That's how I knew I was ready to give you that letter. You were wearing my color...

Your eyes were a brighter blue today. After you came in from having a cigarette, you walked past me, then paused. Coffee and tobacco smoke. That's what you smelled like. That's my smell now.

"Just under a minu...

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The Father’s Curse

I am not  the man you used to be

the acorn falling softly

in the shade of your tree

raising ungrateful sons

to their own prosperity

fighting a war

so that others could be free

the nurturing of potential

that you swore you couldn’t see

expected to take root

and share your ancient symmetry

being a loving father

when it wasn’t m...

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Soldier’s Box

Wooden box

Lock

Key

Brass bullet casing

Spent

Flakes of tobacco

Unsmoked

Grains of sand

Sepia tinted photograph

Pyramids

And pith helmets

Soldiers Service

And Pay book

Will unwritten

Will not needed

Nib encrusted

Fountain pen

Brass button

Coloured ribbon

Yellowed letters

Ink a faded blue

S...

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He left 

He left behind his broken wife and his scared son

He left

He left us cold, all alone with no one 

He left

The vows, they meant nothing 

The promises, broken 

I just wish we meant something 

More than just empty words spoken 

I cried for days at a time 

My young son wiped every tear 

Leaving us was a crime 

And now, it's been 1 year 

An...

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I am waiting for the day that you will show up at my door

With a flower for every birthday you missed.

Twenty-one flowers of vibrant colors—

Turquoise, violet, “tickled pink”—

They will spread their pedals in the warm spotlight

That will touch every inch of my cold, pale skin.

The features of my face will be illuminated.

I will no longer be the infant you left—

The life tha...

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Blue Smoke Ghost

A matchbox scratch

A flare of light

The smell of sulphur

A yellow patch

Above his chair

On the ceiling

A row of pipes

Hung in a rack

Saliva drips

The suck

And suck

And suck on shank

Red glow

In the dusk

On a back step

The aroma

Of spices

In the ready-rub

Scratching

Grey ash

From the c...

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Look over there,

Sat in that comfy reclining chair,

Is a man so wise and strong,

With so much knowledge which was seldom wrong.

The way his eyes would sparkle when he laughed,

And his cheesy smile on all his photographs.

His daytime nap making a little snore,

Is he really asleep? I think as I open the door.

He was such a good old joker,

Yet kept a face as straight a...

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This make-believe story I predicted in my head,

To pieces upon the ground does it fall.

A happiness once experienced -

A security long gone,

And a father I had imagined -

Now a memory in which I had created.

But, the hurt inside is real -

All torn up, how does my heart continue to beat?

A trauma of the past -

Why must I remember what I wish not to?

I created...

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The Bayonet In The Shed

He put it there in forty nine,

in a woodworm riddled drawer,

wrapped it in a greasy rag.

A remnant from the war.

On top of it he laid his medals,

nothing more was said

until the day my father

took the bayonet from the shed.

We had pestered many times

and he had said ‘perhaps’

when we asked him if he’d killed

any Krauts or any Ja...

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I touch your cheek,

I'm surprised, it's cold.

I reach for your hand

for I need it to hold.

I look upon your face

that beamed and sparkled

as we loved and laughed,

wrestled and tickled.

Your face is so pallid,

the sparkle is gone,

no more to smile

at the hot summer sun.

Your hair neatly tended,

you lie there so still

as I try, with memories,

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There was a man I knew,

not too close, not too far,

as a child he was there

to tend to my scars.

A man with a past,

of that I had no doubt,

a man, when provoked,

who knew how to shout.

A happy man

with a smile for all,

he'd always be there to

pick me up when I'd fall.

And though never far away,

we were never very close,

a sign of those times

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Dexteram Patris

Uncomfortable
seeing him that way,
and she,
ever supportive,
gently touching
his arm
for reassurance

but there is a failing,
something not the same,
although in looks
we are so similar.

The Prodigal returns
and sees his father,
straight of back
and stern of countenance,
falling to pieces.

The once proud frame -
busted

and she,
as beautiful as always,
...

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October-7-1997
Trisha M. Hopkins

{I}
Waiting for him, sitting in the car
Under the erie moonlight
Imagening what he'll do 
Seing him in the distance, Seeing him in the night
His mind shouting "I'm going to get you!"

{II}
He sees himself going after the man
He sees himself dragging him, dragging, dragging
Tying the man up
Everything is so dim
Under the erie moonlight

{III}
Torc...

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I sometimes find my Dad sitting next to me in my car

Not exactly him but some likeness, a vision from afar.

I can’t exactly see him clear

But either way it’s nice to have him near.

I sometimes find myself talking to my Dad,

Sitting next to me, in my car

It’s good to talk after all these years and I suppose he’s not really there

But it feels so good, so I don’t really care...

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There’s a floor called race and a home called blood,

it can be what forms you.

It can be what clothes you, what warms you as it flows through your body,

a rich honey providing brotherhood, relation, family and love -

bonds of pride which cartwheel through your body.

I have a mystery and in my father lies the clues.

I had droplets of speciality, uniqueness, distinction, excitement...

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She  was born from a parent
who left her at a young age
to be raised by a monster.

This monster created
such fear and depression
for this poor young girl.

The monster she feared
was there everyday waiting
for when she got home
or for when she woke.
The monster she didn't love
broken her down far too much
that even a thought of it
or the thought of being home
would make her panic.
...

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The following is a dream. In a small way I hope the ending comes true

My Mother, Sister, Brother and I check into a hotel room.

When we enter the room my Dad who passed away

almost five years ago is sitting on the bed.

We ask, "Daddy why are you here?" He says "I wanted to

see my family." We are overcome with emotion and hug

him. We are all talking at once.

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I always liked the jacket my Dad wore.

One day I found it

Hanging lonely and forlorn

In a wardrobe

And I thought of him and me

And remembered he was a bigger man than me

I tried the jacket on

And felt him close once again

I always liked the little pocket for a watch and chain

But to my dismay the jacket didn’t fit, not at all

It was too small

Though he was a b...

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What strange gravities compel you?
Which strong seasons
manipulate the focus of your mind?
What forces are at work
governing your silences and interactions?
What are the properties of magnetic north
that keep you so firmly held there?

Which habits formed into crippling routine
Which once-cradled ambitions did you let burn away?
What hope, was it you had, for all of what you started
whe...

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His whistle echo's

The memories of my mind

Really miss my dad

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Another attempt at my paternal tongue.

Un altro tentativo di mia lingua paterna.

And though I beam with pride as I'm learning.

E anche se mi fascio con orgoglio, come sto imparando.

I'm aware that translated, the metre is wrong.

Sono consapevole del fatto che tradotto, lo strumento è sbagliato.

But this language pulsates to my yearning.

Ma questo linguaggio pu...

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For I will praise my father

for his giant frame

that once dwarfed me

as an oak tree

dwarfs a flower;

and for his big hands,

sure and strong,

and for the blue

sea secret of his eyes;

and I will praise him again

for the work he did

and the back

he bowed to feed me;

and more for the songs

he never sang,

and those he kept

to kindle

...

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Poem For My Dad

In the deepest darkest recess of the mind

The saddest memory is there to find

There’s nothing more to say except I miss you Dad,

We had our time together, good and bad

And many differences, we had

After all, you were a man who got an apple and an orange for Christmas

And I was a lad who began the biggest record collection in th...

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