"Hi Friend. I have an assignment for you. I need a good “Father” poem to read to my congregation in the morning. I’m preaching on the necessity of fathers to hold the moral fabric of society together." Funny you should mention this. I was looking at the sidebar earlier, and saw reference to a poem. Naturally, I looked it over, but I was displeased with it.
I wrote the scathing report below in response to it. Then I noticed that the thread dated from November of last year, and had already faded to obscurity.
What to do? I filed the poem away ... Created on = Saturday, June 14, 2008 4:05:19 PM
And your request was written Saturday, June 14, 2008 4:41:52 PM by WVNan
Curious, no? Anyway, herewith my scathing retort:
What I Wanted To Be
What I wanted to be as a grownup,
Was a man, like my dad had once been,
He was faced with the challenge of living,
In a world where no thing was a sin.
He could have lolled in the barroom,
Getting drunk on the money he’d earned,
Instead of supporting a family.
He’d a choice, and the tempting was spurned.
In the rough circumstance of his township,
It was normal to act like a brute,
When your world is descending to chaos,
It’s great fun to jump into the chute.
Instead, he scrabbled and struggled,
Against all the odds so arrayed,
Pushing all of us higher and higher,
While others just sat there and stayed.
They stayed where their fate had propelled them,
Like weeds growing up in a crack.
But Dad had a loftier goal for himself,
And the rest of us stuck on his back.
So, sure, it would have brought comfort,
And ease from the day’s hurtful blows,
But a man like my Dad didn’t care for that,
So he lifted his burden and rose.
With confidence in his ability,
And faith that the Lord would provide,
He clambered aloft from the place he’d been tossed,
With a woman as good by his side.
So these are the ones that I emulate,
You others may do as you choose,
I will climb till I’ve gotten above all the fray,
And I’ve shed all the things I can’t use.
I’ve no room in my journey for hatred,
Or for jealousy making me weak.
I’m saving some room in my heart for the things,
That my trust in the Lord says to seek.
And strangely, the climbing gets easier,
As higher and higher we rise,
Somehow the goal seems much closer,
As its light finds its way to our eyes.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . June 14, 2008