Dad Jeans

I was unprepared to have

My heart ensnared

By clutches oh so small.

I was born of summer

But you were born of heaven

With joy in your smile

And sunlight in your eyes.

Born in November the trees

Shade giving virtue had fallen

Honeybee long gone

No longer searched for pollen.

But your young and tender body

So needy and so small

We both got the warmth we needed

In the embrace of one another.

Now every pair of pants I own

Has holes in the knees

They are all worn and torn

From being a train or horse

For you to explore the universe,

From crawling to find you

I the monster in your tale.

I get to see the world anew

From the eyes of a child

Who knows not what borders are

Only what kindness is.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

thanks @josy57 for the prompt “Worn and Torn.”

Gold Stickers

On the eve of higher learning

Keep your bright heart burning

That amongst red apples and gold stickers

You’d be the only flame that never flickers.

With hair as curly

As the shapes

You first drew on paper,

Eyes as brown

As the coffee I drink

Each and every morning.

If I could pluck your brightness

I’ve little doubt I’d live forever,

To be a father

Is to never die.

But rather have my blood

Pump through better veins,

To have the apprentice take the tool

Carving the block in ways

I never could with hands

I helped form.

One day I’ll be humbled by age

And you a shining knight

Will have your own page

To raise up with wisdom I will give thee.

Tonight just rest your lovely head

Before this new journey,

When the sun rises

On your keen brow

Know that it never sets

On your father’s prayers for you.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Son starting kindergarten. I’m not crying you’re crying!

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Silver

Silver chain with silver locket

Open to discover sweetest of faces,

And between them a helm.

Reminding me that life is a vast sea

And I must always find true north

No matter how the waves may roll and pitch.

Their cheeks their smiles

Bringing pinkish hues

To this heart fanned into flame

By the ones who share my eyes.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Thanks @josy57 for the promp “A lock around your neck.”

Brushfire

Your mother said I wasn’t right

Not serious enough,

Now we laugh until we’re pink

Thinking of being with anyone else.

Resonating something deep inside me

I didn’t even know needed vibration.

I was kindling

You were a match

Together we’re a brushfire.

Burning and spreading until

Our love insisted on having

Skin of its own.

Now you’re a mother

And I’m a father

And together

We are the stewards

Of the miraculous.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Long Hours

Pen long hours in the dust of your memories,

Discern the bones from the dirt

Excavate the traumas and trophies

And see the foundation of your story.

Pen long hours in the grass of your youth,

With quills wearing feathers so dashing

With ink carve away the parts not needed

White page given meaning by its embrace with black.

Pen long hours in the forests of parenthood,

Admire and prune growth so eager

Never embarrassed or furtive

Only looking for a limb to climb.

Pen long hours in the clouds of age

Wrinkled and grey, ready to let go

Aching to rain life down into the dust

The memories of woodland creatures

Awoken by the hopeful magic of petrichor.

When the sun sets on your inkwell

And life has penned long hours on your soul

And you lay in your spiral bound coffin,

Know that a story is never wasted.

– Vagabond Prophet

Remnant

Oh son with limber ligaments,

Elastic mind and sinew,

Let what remains of your youth

Stretch much further than mine has,

Let your vigour for adventure

Weather many winters.

Let your glittering eyes

Shine through every storm.

Spend your days in innocence

Picking flowers for your mother

And learn nothing of

The treachery of lechery.

Clothe yourself in all things joyful

And arm yourself with skills uncommon

Building bridges to others

Not walls to keep them out.

The flame that burns so brightly

If reduced to embers can survive,

Being blown into action days later

By desperate measures

From desperate lungs.

My lungs.

I’ll be your bellows

To forge within you

Strength I only heard of in age.

You’ll be better than me,

An anchor, a muster point

A lighthouse.

For those surviving the blight

Of those spectres in the night

And for all of them you’ll point

To the rising son.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “what remains of your youth”

Our DNA braided together
To make a brand new person,
Now laying in our bed
Perpendicular to logic itself.

I’ll be woken by a sleepy kick
In the jaw or the nose,
But to lose her and gain sleep
Would be the stuff of nightmares.

Vagabond Prophet

300 Seconds

300 seconds that’s all it took

To get you to sleep,

I’d sing my favourite songs

And hope you felt the vibrations

Through my chest and into yours.

You’ve known my voice for a while now

And I hope it still spells safety for you.

The older you get and more questions you ask

The more I want to know what you think of the world.

I’m not sure what to tell you,

It’s complicated my son.

Trust people?

No not that, certainly not that.

That was my mistake, it won’t be yours.

Love people?

Yes always.

Be generous?

Yes always.

Yet remember, every man woman or child

That you treat as friend,

Is enemy to themselves half the time.

Our Lord said it best,

Be as shrewd as serpents

And innocent as doves.

I’ll always hold you tight

And steady in the night,

Just as he’s held me

When I got my wounds.

I’ll sing your favourite songs

And hope you feel the vibrations

Through my chest and into yours.

– Vagabond Prophet

When Kids are in Trouble and Dad is a Writer

vagabondprophet:

You have disobeyed

And this is what you’ve wrought

You shall feel

The full weight of my wrath.

I have sojourned here

At speeds illegal

I am pregnant with displeasure

At your little mutiny.

Thought to stage a coup?

How cute.

Your maliciousness inherited

Diluted, inexperienced.

I’ve reduced men to tears

With naught but words,

Now they’re pointing at you

What say you!?

I’ve shattered souls

With a lonely syllable.

This little rebellion of yours,

Adorable.

In me that blood

Is at full strength

Seething, writhing, searching,

I reign it in always.

But not today

For you have incurred

The full arsenal

Of my fury.

When you’re older

We’ll rebel together

Against forces unjust,

But today thou shalt suffer.

You will scrub and sweep

You will repent

You miscreant you,

You will beg for rest before days end.

I love you so

And this is how

I show it today,

To insure tomorrow is different.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

When Kids are in Trouble and Dad is a Writer

You have disobeyed

And this is what you’ve wrought

You shall feel

The full weight of my wrath.

I have sojourned here

At speeds illegal

I am pregnant with displeasure

At your little mutiny.

Thought to stage a coup?

How cute.

Your maliciousness inherited

Diluted, inexperienced.

I’ve reduced men to tears

With naught but words,

Now they’re pointing at you

What say you!?

I’ve shattered souls

With a lonely syllable.

This little rebellion of yours,

Adorable.

In me that blood

Is at full strength

Seething, writhing, searching,

I reign it in always.

But not today

For you have incurred

The full arsenal

Of my fury.

When you’re older

We’ll rebel together

Against forces unjust,

But today thou shalt suffer.

You will scrub and sweep

You will repent

You miscreant you,

You will beg for rest before days end.

I love you so

And this is how

I show it today,

To insure tomorrow is different.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry