Happy Father’s Men’s Day: To the loving supportive men in my Life

Happy Father’s Men’s Day: To the loving supportive men in my Life


 

 

 

 

Happy Fathers Day to all the Loving, Caring Beautiful men in my life who have nurtured

and inspired me. Here are some poems to Celebrate the men in men in my  life and also to Celebrate you in your journey I offer these poems

from the new book CELEBRATE LIFE: VIVA LA VIDA

“Naches: The Pride One Has In Their Children”

I never heard
my father say,
“I love you.”
Yet, I suspected
he did.
He provided
food
shelter
and
the things he could,
but those words
of love I didn’t hear.
Shortly
before he died
I had received
a small note/ poem  from
him written in
his childish
square hand-writing,
“Naches,
the pride
one has
in their
children.
Dad.”

“My Father’s Hands: My Destiny”
I have my
father’s hands,
the hands of a
mechanic,
big and strong.
But I’m
a poet,
an artist,
a classical guitarist,
and a healer.
His hands struck out
in rage
at the slightest
provocation.
His hands thick
with grease and callouses
scarred with burns
and welding spots.
My callouses on
my finger tips are
from guitar strings.
My hands strong
and sure from making
my art.

I anger slowly,
and rarely spoken
in rage.
I fold my hands
in prayer
and forgiveness.
I have my
father’s hands,
but I’ve chosen
my destiny.

 

“Learning To Be A Man”

When I was a boy – I did
boyish things.
I fought and raged,
Hands and fists
Flying in arguments.
“My way or the highway!”
Boyish anger!
“I’m right and go to hell!”
I joined the military,
drank heavily
like the other boys
had sex wherever
I could find it.
The young years —
drugging
drinking
sex.
What boys do in their boyish ways!
Now a man,
I sometimes hold to my
boyish ways.
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I have an incredible loving wife;
yet, I had cheated and lied.
More boyish ways than I
can fully acknowledge.
A man feels shame, a boy
rarely does.
A man atones for his wrongs,
but a boy doesn’t know how.
Fighting, I still fight the just cause,
but instead of arguing
with my fists
I am learning to
listen more
and talk less.
My hands once broken
from fighting,
I prefer the embrace
and warmth of
a handshake.
Now a man
I realize more arguments are
won with kindness.
Now a man
less need to
win an argument
or be right.
More of a need
to listen and
yes— love.
As a man
I will not go
off to war
to kill another.
Most wars are fought by
boys trying
to be men,
led by old men
wishing they could be
boys.
Now I am a man,
over sixty,
I’m still learning what it
is to be a man.
More inclined to listen.
Less need to be right.
Less intent
to hurt
or be unkind.
In seeing so much of men
fighting
angry
acting in boyish ways

I’m more inclined to be
the man I truly want to be.
kind
respectful
compassionate
loving
In seeing so much of men
acting in boyish ways
I am learning to be a man.

 

 

 

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