Poetry Friday

I don't actually own a book on poetry nor do I really seek it out very often. The poetry I love is often the lyric of a song. This didn't occur to me several weeks ago when I thought I would start blogging poetry on Friday's as suggested by jo(e). I didn’t post last Friday because I had nothing. Then I remembered that I had in my possession some poetry written by my dad. I found it when cleaning out his house after he died. The majority of these poems, there are about 20, I'd never seen before and most are dated from May of 1988. I don't remember what was going on in his life then; I was too wrapped up in mine. The themes are of love lost, pain and death. My grandmother told me once that he had been born under a black cloud and that it followed him all his life. I remember him having happy days too but the angry and depressed days are just as prominent in my mind. I will be posting some of his work over the next few weeks.


Words can describe the beauty
Of stars and starfish
Of sunrise and sunflowers
Of mountains and mountain lions
But no words can picture
The beauty that is within
Certainly not the beauty
Whose lovely grace
I have found in you

(no title, no date – written on a scrap piece of paper)