Happy Father’s Sunday.

To Father’s everywhere, two poems I wrote in 2015.

Acrostic, Father.

Photo from Here

First and foremost he is constantly there

Always ready to support you, comfort and to care

Tough when needed and loving too

Hoping always the best for you

Everlasting patience where you are concerned!

Rooting in corner praising you highly for the accolades you’ve earned.

πŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œ

New Father

His hands are too big

Like his heart and the love he has to give .
His fear is tangible but he holds the baby
His own, his son. A leader of men …maybe.
This life, these eyes dependent on him
My boy my lad his heart begins to sing.

πŸ’œπŸ’œπŸ’œ

Finally I bring this one out every year.

A tribute to my Father 1905 – 1976

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He was a quiet man, he was a helpful caring man.

Handsome in his youth a dashing man,a fighter for rights.

A union man, a fighting for the under dog man, a β€œI’ll do it if I can man” .

He met my Mum, a wooing man, a handsome flashing eyed Irishman.

A black haired almost wild man, a stand up for what I am man.

A good man to trust your life to and my Mum did,

He was an out in the open man. What see is what you get man, nothing hid.

He worked hard he was a family man. A sturdy, bring home the wages man,

A giver, comforter, a lover man. A home maker man some one to carry the can man.

A there until the end man.

He was a stern man, when you had done wrong, though he was a quick to praise man.

A happy to teach you a lessen in a song man. A teacher man,sometimes a preacher man

An always there when it counted man. He was a father of the bride man, and he handed all his daughters away.

He was the man who supported his sons when they became the married men.

He was a support man, and adviser man the lover of lilies of the valley man.

He was reunited with my Mum man when they saw us all gone.

He was a plain man to the end man, not a flourish and bouquet,

Nor a black magic man,an honest to the end man.

He was a deaf man, but he heard what was important man!

At the end, a blind man, in stature a tiny man in truth a giant man.

A truly missed man , a wish you where here man.

He is a gone but not a forgotten man.

lily_of_the_valley_777

Image of the Lilies

Happy Father’s Sunday All.

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