For fathers (and uncles and step-dads and foster dads and compadres) everywhere.
(Nevermind that this song is not what you’d call cheery; it’s also beautiful and makes clear the importance of fathers.)
Below you’ll find two of my favorite dad-related poems—one by a father for his child, one by a son for his father.
The first is by the great and glorious, Gary Snyder. (It’s the last three lines of this poem that always get me.)
Changing Diapers by Gary Snyder
How intelligent he looks!
on his back
both feet caught in my one hand
his glance set sideways,
on a giant poster of Geronimo
with a Sharp’s repeating rifle by his knee.I open, wipe, he doesn’t even notice
nor do I.
Baby legs and knees
toes like little peas
little wrinkles, good-to-eat,
eyes bright, shiny ears
chest swelling drawing air,No trouble, friend,
you and me and Geronimo
are men.
The other is a remarkable poem that E. E. Cummings wrote for his dad. It’s called my father moved through dooms of love. I believe it’s best read aloud.
I read fragments of this poem at my dad’s funeral.
my father moved through dooms of love by E.E. Cummings
my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of heightthis motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirmnewly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly rootsand should some why completely weep
my father’s fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into beginjoy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoicekeen as midsummer’s keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father’s dreamhis flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grainseptembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable isproudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the darkhis sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow.My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine, passion willed,
freedom a drug that’s bought and soldgiving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of amthough dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit, all bequeathand nothing quite so least as truth
–i say though hate were why men breathe–
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all
NOTE: What father-themed songs would you pick? Cat Stevens/Yousef Islam has this one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q29YR5-t3gg
Let’s not forget the many fathers who lived by the words of the Temptations song “Papa Was A Rolling Stone”.
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
Folks say Papa wasn’t much on thinkin’
Spent most of his life chasin’ women and drinking
Mama, I’m depending on you to tell me the truth
And Mama looked up with a tear in her eye and said, Son
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
Good one, WTF. Thanks!
(I don’t know what it is about dad songs. Most of the best ones are bitter-sweet, with an emphasis on the non-sweet end of that equation. Although there are loads of terrific songs of dads singing to their kids.)
As a father, grandfather, and now great grandfather, of the most precious little 2 year old great grand daughter who I had the mind blowing experience of being the first arms she was put into I would only add that even though I enjoy the calls and salutations of my children and grandchildren, Fathers Day makes me remember all my children and grandchildren as the small little angels they were and also how fast time passes for us all.
My favorite poet on this subject.
The Children’s Hour
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations,
That is known as the Children’s Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.
A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.
A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!
They climb up into my turret
O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!
I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.
And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!
Gorgeous, DQ. How could I forget HWL?