Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Day My Father Died by Carol Eliassen

I wrote this right after my Dad died when I was fifteen.  I even turned it into my 9th grade English class as an assignment.  There was a lot more to it but this is all I remember. 


The day my Father died
I knew not what to do
It came and rained
The pain was vain
I knew the sadness too.

I looked upon his bed
And grew afraid to see his face
Or touch his hand as he did lay.

I loved this man you see
But I hid this love from thine beloved
I didn’t know how to show
Because I didn’t know he would go.

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Poem Template

A Whim to Write
On the art of starting again

I have a whim to write so write I will.
Can’t believe I am being this still.

I type and I type to no avail.
I can’t believe it, so I guess I will.

What says the key — can it really be
an a or a y? I really can’t say why.

I have a whim to write, so write I will.
When night time comes, I pick up my quill.

Some say I’m lazy and others say naught.
When I sit here and write, I’m not such a snot.

I love the sound of the keys that clank,
or the pen that strikes as I sit down to write.

Well here we go again, picking up where we left off —
not quite sure what to write, but at least it’s a start.

Good night my protagonist.
It was good to see you again.
I’ll finish your scene without you letting out a scream.

The days are long and the nights too short.
I’ll finish your story sometime in the morning.

With coffee brewed and in the mood,
I’ll pick up where we left off,
and again we will start.

— Written in 2015

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