It’s Father’s Day here. Last week it was Father’s Day in Philippines, where my father is.
Seems like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day tend to bring out the poetry, so I thought I’d start a thread for poems in honor of fathers. Here’s mine:
My father’s the guy I called daddy,
His hair was all matted and ratty,
So I gave him a comb,
And he neatenened his dome,
Saying, “Son you’re a mighty fine laddy.”
Memory of My Father.
Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumble on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
" I was once your father."
Patrick Kavanagh c.1945
Thanks for the bit of Paddy Kavanagh,Duhblinn.
I lost my father in october of last year,not unexpectantly,after his long illness,and today is a time to think about him.
I CAN say that he enjoyed Irish trad. music-as well as the ballad groups ,he was very keen on Tony MacMahon,Joe Cooley and Noel Hill’s music.
Here’s thinking of you Da.
you’re very welcome kevin .
I read that poem out at my own Fathers funeral some years back in spite of strenuous objections from the Priest that it was not a religious text,I suppose he didn’t know the line from the Great Hunger
" Gods truth is life"
Cheers Mate,
D.
I guess we are BOTH welcome.Peace.
I love the Kavanagh. This is my favorite father poem, though I guess there’s nothing in the text that could keep it from being a mother poem. My father was a swimmer and diver. He died a long time ago.
First Lesson
by Philip Booth
Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man’s float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
Carol