Besides a Black History Month Contest in the sixth grade and my reading class sophomore year in college, I have never shared my poetry. However, today I decided that I would share a piece that I wrote entitled My Father.
My Father…
Used to be there
Isn’t there anymore
Lives down the street from me
Doesn’t pay child support
Lives with his mother
Favors my brother
Gave me half of his chromosomes and some of his genes
Wouldn’t even know if I liked vanilla or chocolate ice cream
Missed my graduation and countless May 4ths
Used to tell me he was going to work when he was really headed up north
Tells me to call if I need anything, knowing he can’t provide it
Would promise me things knowing that he couldn’t buy it
Was crazy in some eyes, sane in the view of his own
Is a man, but has not yet grown
Is someone that I do not see frequently at all, even though it’s probably not even 15 minute walk
Is someone who I probably never had longer than a 15 minute talk
Is the one who quit the play and gave the job to his understudy, my mother
Is living strong inside of my brother
Makes me sick to see that he is doing nothing positive with his life
Makes me think if my brother will be just like him
Wouldn’t care or know what to do with him if he was
Would probably feed a stranger over me
Wouldn’t even know if I was still breathing at this moment
Would not even know if I had a boyfriend
Would not know anything about me except for the information on my birth certificate if that
Is my father
Is the father of three others, of which I only know two
Is smart
Is stupid
Is my blood
Is a low-life
Is my blood
Is human
Gave me his reflection
Is not a dad, just a father.
Used to be there
Isn’t there anymore
Lives down the street from me
Doesn’t pay child support
Lives with his mother
Favors my brother
Gave me half of his chromosomes and some of his genes
Wouldn’t even know if I liked vanilla or chocolate ice cream
Missed my graduation and countless May 4ths
Used to tell me he was going to work when he was really headed up north
Tells me to call if I need anything, knowing he can’t provide it
Would promise me things knowing that he couldn’t buy it
Was crazy in some eyes, sane in the view of his own
Is a man, but has not yet grown
Is someone that I do not see frequently at all, even though it’s probably not even 15 minute walk
Is someone who I probably never had longer than a 15 minute talk
Is the one who quit the play and gave the job to his understudy, my mother
Is living strong inside of my brother
Makes me sick to see that he is doing nothing positive with his life
Makes me think if my brother will be just like him
Wouldn’t care or know what to do with him if he was
Would probably feed a stranger over me
Wouldn’t even know if I was still breathing at this moment
Would not even know if I had a boyfriend
Would not know anything about me except for the information on my birth certificate if that
Is my father
Is the father of three others, of which I only know two
Is smart
Is stupid
Is my blood
Is a low-life
Is my blood
Is human
Gave me his reflection
Is not a dad, just a father.
I got an A on this poem, my professor said that it's was creative that I made it look like a tree (which I saw once she told me). I didn't realize how deep this poem was until I actually read it and the first time I did read it was when I got it back. It's crazy how you can be writing something and not realize the actual words that are coming out until you're done. But I guess that's what they call poetry.
l o v e . l i v e . i n s p i r e . = e l l e . e l l e . e y e .
so real
.. definition of poetry
its real.
im someone who takes pride in my poetry
and preforms it for others to hear
but i got the personal poems too
so i know where u coming from.
when i read this
i was really flawed and i wish u did share more
you didnt try to hard
u didnt make shit up
you told it like it was and you yourself were shocked
that truely is the power of poetry
keep writing
i think its essential to life
and remember, even though you didnt deal the cards you have in your hand.. u still have them at the end of the day.
its up to u to play them rite!
you're a loaded gun.. keep your trigger finger intching
-Greg