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Bloged in family, poems by rod Tuesday July 27, 2004

epitome of masculinity
model man for man-to-be

long of arm, short of words
slow to speak but always heard

leadership by servanthood
strong of back and fortitude

passed on to us your quirky traits
for Al and Cin to aggravate


Like me and your grandsons, I know you have a soft spot for rhymes and a touch of humor.
Of course there are hundreds of memories involving you that have shaped my life, but there are two relatively recent ones that will always stick with me because they seem to sum up all the others.
When I built the patio at the old house, you came all the way to South Carolina to mix my mortar. Then you’d sit and watch and encourage me while I tried my hand at laying brick. When I had to paint the soffit, 25 feet above the ground, you stood below for hours, holding the ladder.
That’s the kind of Dad I want to be.
Provider, equipper, supporter, encourager.
happy birthday dad

8 Responses to “belated”

  1. Joseph Says:

    Your poetry is good, I like it.

    Do you have an RSS feed for this blog? I couldn’t find one.

  2. ata Says:

    Such towers of strength are rare, at least in my small world. I want to join you in honoring these gracious men by sharing something about another great dad.
    Undaunted Guardian

    Tough and soft-hearted
    he passionately lives his life.
    Generous in his walk, merciful in his talk.

    His pre-dawn meditations
    give him courage for the day
    He smiles at the sun’s early rays.

    Valiant and gracious
    he clothes himself with compassion
    A defender of truth and of people.

    Devoted and faithful
    he inspires us all.
    A courageous father, who finds favor with both God and man.

  3. rl Says:

    way to go ata.
    How ’bout it folks? Anyone else got some words for your daddy?

  4. Bonnie Lewis Says:

    Rod, thanks for your words. They touched my heart deeply. Of course, I’m crazy about all the men involved.

  5. bl Says:

    Ata, your poem is beautiful. Thanks for sharing it with us. I had forgotten about this poem I wrote some years ago about my Daddy. The words aren’t fancy, but we were not fancy people … just plain folks living a life of hard work, and deep love of the family and the land.

    He was tall, dark, and handsome.
    He always had a smile.
    He had a kind word for everyone
    And would gladly go the extra mile.

    I was amazed that he could do everything,
    And was a very talented man.
    He taught me to love everyone,
    To fill an empty hand.

    His drawings thrilled a little girl,
    And put dreams into her head.
    She tried to do as well as he did.
    His kind words kept her confidence fed.

    I’d crawl into his bed at night
    Cause back scratches were his specialty.
    I’d snuggle up really close,
    And he’d scratch my back for me.

    I’d punch him to keep him awake
    So he’d tell me memoires of long ago.
    They were told with great color,
    And were secrets that only I could know.

    We carried water up the hill
    To fill the old “warsh” tub.
    Mother warmed the water on the stove
    To bathe me and my brother, “Bub.”

    Dad wired and dug.
    We were the first folks on Sleepy Creek
    To have a “modern day” well pump
    And to take a bath more than once a week.

    Work in the factory, then on the farm
    Filled all the hours of daylight.
    The work never seemed to be done
    Try hard, hard as he might.

    I’d watch him in his workshop,
    And with patience he’d let me try.
    He’d work long hours
    Till not a thread of his clothes were dry.

    If I could calculate
    All the things he gave to me,
    The feeling that I was truly loved
    Would count the most you see.

    I was Daddy’s little girl.
    I wanted to be just like him,
    And even now, years after he’s gone
    I still feel the same as then.

  6. ata Says:

    Bonnie, I find your poem very fancy, for you so eloquantly reveal in layers a most loving and secure relationship a dad can have with his daughter. YOU so beautifully express and convey deep truth with your poem.

  7. dphil Says:

    My dad will have been gone 10 years this October. Ten years before that he had his 50th birthday. My sister and I had a big party for him and my mom, who would turn 50 a few weeks later. Sis wrote a poem for mom, and I wrote this for dad:

    Happy Birthday Dad

    To the one who taught me how to swing a hammer
    taught me how to drive a car
    to laugh and yell
    and be quiet and enjoy a good cup of coffee and a doughnut

    You taught me to love to fly
    to love God first
    to dream and plan and work
    and showed me what committed love is all about

    You always gave me privilege and responsibility
    a bit beyond what I thought I really deserved
    By doing that a little at a time
    more and more, year by year
    you taught me to be a man

    And you taught me to be a father
    I just hope I can teach your grandson
    as well as you taught me Dad
    Happy Birthday
    from you son

  8. bl Says:

    I really like this, Dan. It must have been a treasure for your Dad. He must have been really proud of you.

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