Poem No. 77: “Home Office” by Edgar Guest

Gedichte, poems

Home is the place where the laughter should ring,
And man should be found at his best.
Let the cares of the day be as great as they may,
The night has been fashioned for rest.
So leave at the door when the toiling is o’er
All the burdens of worktime behind,
And just be a dad to your girl or your lad–
A dad of the rollicking kind.

The office is made for the tasks you must face;
It is built for the work you must do;
You may sit there and sigh as your cares pile up high,
And no one may criticize you;
You may worry and fret as you think of your debt,
You may grumble when plans go astray,
But when it comes night, and you shut your desk tight,
Don’t carry the burdens away.

Keep daytime for toil and the nighttime for play,
Work as hard as you choose in the town,
But when the day ends, and the darkness descends,
Just forget that you’re wearing a frown–
Go home with a smile! Oh, you’ll find it worth while;
Go home light of heart and of mind;
Go home and be glad that you’re loved as a dad,
A dad of the fun-loving kind.

Poem No. 5: My Father`s Hand by Elliott B. Wrinkleberry

Gedichte, poems, Uncategorized
dims

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn’t there with me
He looked my way and smiled a bit, but I don’t think he could see
My tears I hold until I’m alone, I want to be so strong
Maybe he should just give up, is thinking that so wrong?

I held my fathers hand today, but I don’t think he was there
And mother holds and rubs his arm, sat on a plastic chair
And the pipes and tubes and sticky bits are holding him in place
He’s tired of life and all this pain, I can read it in his face

I held my fathers hand today, and told him how I cared
About the things we laughed about and stories that we shared
The last thing that he said to me, ‘take care, I love you son’
he told me that he had been blessed, to spend this life with mum.

I held my fathers hand today, I know he didn’t feel me
the greatest love that I could give was holding him so near me
his eye lids close and I kiss his head and I comb his thinning hair
I say goodbye to my beloved dad, but he doesn’t know I’m there.

I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn’t there at all
But when I dream he comes to me, every time I call
And things are like they always were, where everything’s alright
I’ll hold his hand for evermore, holding him so tight.
Elliott B Wrinkleberry