The Poetry Marathon

Dear Dad,

Do you remember when I was five or six
And you’d come home from such long trips
And I’d follow you up to watch you unpack
So glad to have my Daddy back
(Always hoping for some souvenir of some sort
Even if it was just snacks from the airport)
And you’d tell me all about where you’d been
And folks from the plane you’d likely not see again
(Of course, I could tell they all liked you
Since you are so honest and friendly and true)?

Do you remember when I’d come steal your lap
And not just when I needed a nap;
College football games on the television?
If you were watching, there was no decision –
I’d sit down, watch, listen and learn
No matter what age or worldly concern,
It was with you whom I wanted to spend
What time we found, every night and weekend
You’re still the greatest man I know
So, on your birthday, I have to show

The world and you, Dad – James Monroe –
That no matter where I or you may go,
No matter how high or how terribly low,
For you, I’d make chocolate-chip cookie dough,
Bake dozens for you, every week-or-so;
Read the works of David Thoreau;
Learn to capture life like you do in photos;
Bless the world with as much love as you bestow….
And more, Dad. Because everything I hold dear
Exists since you’ve countered, in so many ways, what I fear.

You give me and so many such hope
Such that, even through struggles with the breadth of this scope,
I know you’ll be there.
I can put off despair.
For me, it’s the small things that matter more than all other.
I learned that from you, Dad, and from your love of my mother,
From your love of us all:
That no matter how great the feeling, or small,
I can live. I can love. I can be.
Thank you for all that you’ve loved in me.

Your daughter,
Meri

Letter to Dad

It was one month before

My last child was born

That you were no more.

We called her Erin Kelly

The last of your legacy.

Did I forget to mention

Her beauty defied comprehension?

But the lace and curls

Did not suit baby girl.

She transitioned.

Now we call her him.

And mom loved again.

It took a while for her

To accept your permission.

 

 

 

Post # 4 ~ Prompt 4 ~ Epistolary of Love

Oh how the time goes by

but memories don’t fade.

I can hear your voice

and the love you gave.

 

To all your children

Throughout your life

Sometimes with hardship

Sometimes with strife.

 

From one two three

and four five six.

You loved each one

no favorites you picked.

 

So until the time

on heavens bright shore.

I’ll remember you, Mom

forevermore.

 

 

 

#4 To My Granddaughters (Prompt4)

You came into this world in an unfashionable manner.
Without further ado, you scared the best of me.
As I watched you wiggle out from your mother’s womb,
Though I was far away, my heart is longing to hold your tiny bodies.
As both of you grew as of one of my reality,
Years came and gone, and still, I am far away.
You are my smiling sun that brightens my day,
Your giggles comfort my nights, be patient my loves,
I will be home soon.
For now, grow in love.
The world may be full of uncertainty and chaos.
But take heart and smile. Don’t be afraid to fly.
Love and don’t  hate,
Ice creams and cakes always taste sweet.
Rainbow and rain are still beautiful.
Sunrise and sunset is a promise,
The world you live in has lots of surprises.

4 – Plight of the Sparrow; A Song

What will it take to show the world that I’m worth keeping?

Burn in the waste of all the time you spent, your precious moments

Unfold into me

I’ll be your muse, I’ll be your effigy

If only for one passing phase

I’ll stay until the skies change

 

Who tasted the moon and so carelessly called it honey?

I fear I have worn my welcome

I fear y̶o̶u̶’̶v̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶o̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ you’ve seen enough of me

 

What if your love for me turned bitter by the morning?

A gentle caress could twist and break my hollow bones at moment’s notice

I’m drifting with the shifting winds

Your hurricane is threatening to break my wings

Your heavy breath draws me in

A Letter to the G.I. Who Helped Prosecute the Nuremberg Trials

In memory of Walstein Smith (1920-1998), attorney and professor at Baylor University for 41 years

 

Dear Dad,

 

Here is a loving letter I am posting for you to share with Mother in the Great Beyond,

detailing some events that will delight you, and others that will make you rather mad.

As for my white-privileged self, I put everything in an annuity before the economy tanked,

for which I must acknowledge your own struggles and my financial advisor to thank.

I’m following a healthy Mediterranean diet, gardening, and taking walks in the sunshine,

although lots of folks are deadly-ill down here, and the economy has really declined.

But since arrivals have piled up at the Pearly Gates, you will note we‘ve been conned:

Churches are closed while store-raiding protesters sacking stores much celebrated.

Freedom of speech is in question for those with whom the P. C. Millennials disagree

while the powerful applaud ravaged cities disbanding the cops and looters on sprees.

Lincoln the Great Emancipator’s statue and reputation are now in gravest danger

while the woke and enlightened would take the white baby Jesus out of the manger.

Never mind that people from around the world have pictured Him like themselves—

our hero, who asks everyone not to hold a grudge and always love all their neighbors.

So flag down the Man Upstairs (or in your case up the street) with a few urgent pleas:

We ask for patience and wisdom to heal our world and nation from a most cruel virus

and for the ability to respectfully debate and coming up with solutions as we disagree.

 

Your Loving Daughter

Hour 4: The Timer

Dear Nanny,

I have the timer from your kitchen drawer,
white sand still sliding through in tiny grains.
Time is trapped in plastic, a green jewel –
A prism that mirrors and fractures light.

This object rested on your window sill,
looking out at green grass and bird feeders,
A washing line, a swing for the children.
Time moves on though you are no longer here.

Time for breakfast, time for toast and honey.
Smiles and sugar. Treats from the biscuit tin.
Now and then I turn the thing upside down.
I feel the weight of your love in my hand.

Hour #4: Letter to my father

#4:  Letter to my father

 

Dear Dad

You would not like it here

The world is so far removed from what you remember

That you’d be sad, your head dropped down like I had seen it

Once or twice when you thought I didn’t notice.

I saw it when you talked about my sister, a realization of loss

When you saw a harder side of her, a betrayal of your “sweet Sisi”;

I know you blamed yourself, even though you cast the cause elsewhere

But I heard it in the tone of your voice, equal parts disbelief and resignation,

And saw it in the angle of your back as you sat on one of those high stools

In her house that we both hated,

Your head retracting between your shoulders

Into a flat stillness.

 

I don’t know what you’d think about our country right now

Having failed at everything we set out to protect.

You’d be mad as hell I think

Like when you were in the hospital

Three months in and out of the ICU before you died

Attached like Frankenstein before he was unleashed

And you smiled at me when I came in your room

Holding up the tube for your colostomy bag,

That you decided to yank out

Full of defiance and fight.

 

I wish you were here, Dad

So we could talk every day

And you’d let me go on and on about whatever was on my mind

Mom tries but I can hear her weariness through the phone

But she lovingly puts up with me, because she knows what I know,

That you and I are the same.

Prompt Four

a letter to our lost selves

dear humanity –

a child’s sense of wonder
and curiosity

untamed

is what
the world needs now

a child’s joy at seeing
a caterpillar crawl

or the blur of a
hummingbird’s wings

is how
we will thrive

a child’s unbridled laughter
at seeing a friend

after a day’s absence

is our way
to the future

a child’s belief
in things they cannot see

and certain faith
in tomorrow

is all
we need to know

Original

Glancing at a one-day obituary,
unmentioned name to nameless successors,
last you said you knew I thought of you often,
thoughts now are archetypes you grew,
fused inside inseparable divine,
soft blending maternal melting,
thawing out all which came before.

Cross pollination at fledgeling time,
screens tell me where you went,
enveloping tenderness for new life,
my old life struggled for what you showed.
softness felt like burning through,
decades later the same is true.
At least you tried and gave more,
than anyone ever has.
Without you I could not even hope,
as I would wander frozen,
not knowing brittle was sinuous in the end.

Incarnation put you up as my lamb,
burned on contemptuous pyre,
I put onto you all I felt on myself,
prodigal beyond unworthy regret,
killing those to bring them with.
First breathless moments in eternity,
I know I will see you there,
true marriage struck unspeakable,
tied deep bound totally no desired escape.
Your form exceeding beauty’s sheer essence,
never one I could hold.