One for Pops

On Father's Day in twenty-two
my glass I raise remembering you
as though it's now 'most fifty years
there's still a smile and still some tears
so here's to you on Father's Day
you're still my Pops in every day

48 years

Nineteenth February time after time
and though 48 years, still etched in my mind
that overcast day and the falling from grace
from a knock at the door and a slap in the face
snatched the father away from the boy of fifteen
who in formative years was the worst kind of mean
and though time has healed the wound is still raw
so on this day every year he remembers and more
as he still sees him clear in his mind's eye and knows
that despite passing years the love never goes

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For Pops

Look at me now Pops, I’m an older man now
I’m past sixty, the years have flown by
That slap in the face
has long turned to grace
yet still on this day I will cry

Nineteenth of February nineteen seventy-four
etched in my mind for all time
The day that you left
leaving family bereft
although all these years later we’re fine

Business Trip

The full moon rises,
Glistening like a fresh silver dollar
As Mother Earth lets off steam
And unbuttons her stifling collar
To feel the breeze of the Sun’s departure.

Eagerly I wait at the window
For my moon to come home,
So I can feel the breeze of his sigh
As he sits on his leathery black throne
And watches me with contentment from on high.

Father, Son, Stars, Loss (for Bobby)

I start to count them and stop
Not because there are too many
But because I cannot hold them
Accountable; the code sparkled
From their eternal glow calls
Me to be accountable to my life:

Yellow Butterfly (for Emma)

Every moment gives a gift
An opportunity to see
A yellow butterfly lands
On the pool deck to give
The daughter a smile
She seemed to have lost.

Yellow Butterfly (for Emma)

You’ll Never Be Alone (for Bobby)

Son
Today with oil, water and breath
I watched the priest
Open the soul of a boy
To God.

As
Mine
Was
A long time ago
And many sins past.

MY REWARD

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

wealth and fame
are won and lost
lovers
come and go
joy and sorrow
alternate

HAIKU: THE LOVE OF THE FATHER

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I am a believer

Invincible

When I was young, you were invincible.
You were like Superman, but better
Because I had never seen evidence
Of a Kryptonite that might harm you.

You seemed to effortlessly
hold back the dangerous flood,
And fearlessly protected me
From ever encroaching reality.

The Dance

Dedicated to Loving Fathers Everywhere as I remember my own and the many Sweet Dances we Shared…
I Love and Miss you Dad!

Remembering

I think that now you would be proud
of all I have achieved
But on that day in seventy-four
I merely felt deceived
I was fifteen then and, waking rude
my sunshine went away
with suits upon the doorstep
on that dark and painful day

amnesia

after the cremation

forgetting the name of his

favourite rose

~

image courtesy visuology.com

Pops

 

For fourteen years in thirty-nine
You gave me life and more
But God had other plans in mind
When you left in seventy-four

Memory’s wisdom smiles

In a blue suit that I hated
I threw a flower to the wood
And felt the chill of March around me
By that deep hole where I stood
Fifteen years I’d known him
But his shell was now below
Wondered how I’d manage then
As at the time I didn’t know

Boto

I am (the only)

Sundaughter-child

Of Father Never-Still River

And Mother Daytime Sky.

Every Day, A Child

every day is a child
born through us
be it a man or a woman

Just one dance Daddy

Image from artlimited

Poem by Wendy Norman (Seafarrwide)

When I was born did you feel possession as crucial as each breath you take
I was just a babe, a mere mortal, sins unknown yet to make
You wrapped me in cotton wool with a halo of gold
I was the reason for you to live were the stories untold

But did you witness how you tangled your noose
Around my neck I was like a puppet never set loose
Bid to do as you dreamed, never to fail but be your second chance
You steered my rudder with powerful force without a backward glance

Raggedy man

(via Pinterest.com)

For Poetry Challenge 2

 

He carries a whiff of diesel

Denim smeared, greasy to the touch

Beads of sweat cool on his sun baked face

Good shirts come home from the fields

With soft frayed holes and a scent of green

A sure thing to send Ma’s ire up

Added to the broken saucer and cup

The raggedy man,

A listener, a speaker,

Father mine,

A Quiet Man

A Quiet Man

He was a quiet man, he was a helpful caring man. Handsome in his youth a dashing man,a fighter for rights man. A union man, a fighting for the under dog man, a “I’ll do it if I can man” .

He met my Mum, a wooing man, a handsome flashing eyed Irishman. A black haired almost wild man, a stand up for what I am man. A good man to trust your life to and my Mum did, he was an out in the open man what see is what you get man nothing  hid.

He worked hard he was a family man. A sturdy, bring home the wages man, a giver, comforter a lover man. A home maker man some one to carry the can man, a there until the end man.

He was a stern man, when you had done wrong, though he was a quick to praise man , happy to teach you a lessen in a song man. A teacher man,sometimes a preacher man an always there when it counted man.