My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: children

Dads-poem

When you become a father
everything changes;
priorities, time management,
the distribution of finances.

There were many times were
buying diapers outweighed golfing.
let me think…
milk or beer?
I brought home milk instead.
Changing diapers,
sleepless nights,
sharing a bed with mom.

The hardest is trying to
have adult conversations
and being interrupted
with, “I need to pee.”

“Are we there yet.”
cleaning up throw up,
building bunk beds,
helping with homework.
Adult themed movies
or
The Incredibles?

How many times do I
have to watch this movie?
I just kept it inside
and memorized the lines.

Being a father makes you
a better version of oneself
and I haven’t even gotten
to the teen years.

“I love you dad.”
a sweet kiss and a hug
it makes it all worthwhile.

The Things I’ve Seen-Poem

I’d like to write about a memory of things I’ve seen:
the way I’ve perceived it in my mind;
the light of the sky, the way it reflects
off concrete sidewalks
or dances off small neighborhood trees—

while watching my daughter then around ten,
sit on the sidewalk
with her friends
talking, jesting, and laughing as children do
in their innocence and charm

are saying goodbye.

The weather is perfect outside,
we’re all in t-shirts and shorts

watching this moment elapse.
Breathing it all in.

We’re leaving,
moving to another place,
another city, another state.
Our van is full of belongings
and we’re excited
to start over, somewhere else—
on an adventure.

Anticipating what’s ahead,
kind of.

And there they sit—
these three girlfriends
not wanting to leave

each other’s company
each other’s childhood friendship.

It’s a mysterious moment in time,
when we depart—

we cling to each other,
to our smiles and our hearts.
We touch each other’s hands.
We try to maintain a lasting bond.

Then it seems that everything stops,
the earth stands still
tears fall;
we feel the heartbeat of sadness.
It can only be described as a

tearing

manifested in these cute little girls.
They’re torn

even though they’re hugging each other
one last time.

Yesterday (revised)



Bliss

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Precious Cargo

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I remember our first baby
soon to be born, while
walking around our favorite
shopping mall,
You were trying to walk
your way into delivering her,

Your belly so full
you couldn’t help but waddle—
Like that spotted mallard duck
I once saw for my first time
camping at Clearlake, who
Similar to you was
also a loving mother.

Remember lake Murray
up highway 35 in Oklahoma?
Your belly was again
ready;
Like a luscious
basted turkey in the oven,
Surrounded in its juices,
We got sunburned wading
In that cobalt blue
summer-warmed
water.

I remember crossing
Chattanooga,
Those purple spotted rocky
mountains;
Contrasted against
the pristine blue of the
Tennessee River—

The train’s
Choo, choo,
made me
think of the
Andrew Sisters.

Once again,
your loaded belly
was carrying
precious cargo;
On a windy,
winding caravan road,

Like camel riding bedouins
to our new home
In Atlanta.

Finally, full circle we
crossed the Death Valley.

How we rejoiced coming over
that desert summit
once we saw
Steinbeck country.

We stopped at the
first fruit stand
on our way down to the
valley.

and ate
strawberries ’till
we nearly burst.

As a family, we dipped our
feet in dry-corn;

maíz, the Mayan’s worshipped.

you kissed the fertile ground,
I kissed your pregnant belly.

You
mother,
On The Road,

carrying
in your womb
one more
cherished child;

unlike Kerouac
who only had words,
to describe his journey,

Our many sojourns
Have brought us life;

Our precious babies
You safely delivered
into this world.

Back Nine

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I’m turning 50,
I’m reminded of a half.

Half of a life span,
half of one hundred.

I’m privileged to have
lived as long as I have.

Many in my generation
died before they reached
fifty.

Even the following
generation there are
so many that are already gone.

With wars and diseases
claiming it calamitous toll.

I told my wife
it’s time to play
the back nine.

On the front nine,
one hopefully learns
patience, endurance, and the
things that matter in life.

The love of family and friends.
Perseverance and making
every move count.

You learn that time is fleeting
and that every word matters.
You learn to hopefully
say things correctly.

There are
endless possibilities
playing on the back nine,

Like a well stocked
bookstore,

Bookmarked between
Homer and Aristotle.

Half of what’s found
there would keep me
busy all my life.

If I had a plea,
If I could ask this
of my Lord, it’s to
to see my
children’s children,

What a privilege
that would be.