Thread: To my Dad

The world
seems a poorer place
without you ...
Seems to miss your lovely smile
The kindest heart
I ever knew,
and your gentle spirit

It seems wrong to me
for spring to appear
flowers to grow
in the gardens again

Winter, the long dreary winter
somehow felt right
All the world - bleak, grey
cold and barren
Trees were bare and stark
because you were not here.
..........................................
But now flowers?
buds?
springtime?

How can there be spring
without you?

You - who loved gardens
nurtured flowers
turned barren waste-ground
into havens of beauty

You - who painstakingly
built stepping-stones down a steep river-bank
transformed a neglected woodland
into a peaceful retreat...

Where I spent one summer
bathing in sunlight
many years ago...

Where-ever you lived
you created a beautiful garden
................................................
But now- I know you live
in the most exquisite garden of all.

You would not wish us to mourn
but to enjoy life to the full...

Relish every beautiful thing
rejoice in the tiny buds
the green shoots
that signal the arrival of spring.
　
　
　

Very nice! What a wonderful tribute to your dad.

Juliet77, incorporating the transition from winter to spring brought a empathetic viewpoint that seemed both classical and artistic.

Juliet, I read many tributes to lost ones on forums but yours has to be the most touching. A beautiful poem. Laurie

When I read this the other day I was sitting there thinking about an old English Professor whose tutelage I came under. He loved to drill it into me that a writer writes for their audience. I presented a poem to him concerning my father. His response to it -

" You wrote this for an audience of one, and you dearly loved your audience. My opinion here is irrelevant. "

I think his critique applies here as well

*smiling* Yeah... I miss my Da too

Very artistic. It is a very nice tribute.
And I understand your loss; I lost my pops almost 2 years ago.

Firstly, it's important to realise that poetry, or indeed any words written that are personal between yourself and a loved one, living or departed, should be kept as such, private and between the two parties. Because you've posted this here, I can only assume that you're looking for comments relating to how this could be improved, maybe with publication in mind. As such, I am commenting with the express intent of trying to offer what advice I can with regard to this. If this is not the case, then I suggest you take the advice of Maggie G and stop reading at this point!

As a reader, I am removed from a number of elements in this poem. Firstly, I do not know you, the writer. You haven't brought yourself to the fore, nor have you given me anything with which to understand, empathise or even to care. The voice is cold, unknown, distant; I could be reading a poem by anyone. As for your father, I've struggled to understand his personality too. Again, I find it hard to picture him, to get a grasp on his place in the grander scheme of things, or again to care that much.

The 'season' theme is okay; it's nothing earth-stopping nor is it original. How can the sun go on shining? It's been asked hundreds of times before, and it will be asked hundreds of times again. Some writers ask it well, some ask it badly. For me, this leans towards the latter because it is quite cliched. The imagery is very bland, to a point of predictability, and for that's the biggest issue; we (the readers) can pretty much see where you are going, every inch of the way.

What I get from this is sort of half-hearted. Your father had died and you wonder why the world carries on. There's not enough there to involve me, to make me care about it. I want to know more about either you or him. I don't need both, but I need one to be strong, a reason for writing this. I want to know something personal, true and raw; I want it to hurt, not just to be another "why oh why" piece. Focus on the relationship between you, or something about him or his death that's maybe ironic, or touching, or that tells me something with a little poignancy. Without that, this just falls a little too flat.