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Father
©01-22-20, Olan L. Smith
You raised me, you did you did,
Out of the fears inside your head.
I, raised free ranging, a pole light kid,
Time to mosey home, or face words unsaid.
Dad, I wasn't kind to you, I was hurtful,
But I enjoyed your Mark Twain quotes,
And water glasses half empty, mine half full.
I strained to leave you forever, now your boat's
Departed, I want you back, just for you to explain
A few things; the universe, the gods dreaming.
I want to know your childhood, your wartime campaign
Experiences, the greatest generation, redeeming
Philosophies, and know your strange allure,
Your deepest thoughts―you were lonely
With no one close to appreciate. I'd like to share
With you where my words and my brushes have ably
Taken me. I think you'd be proud of what I do,
You'd understand my thoughts, for you placed those
Ideas in my head. The stars are in me because you
Lit them. You showed me the tree winnows.
(Father; Walter W. Smith, Sr., born 1910 and died 1998)
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YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
