I just want to be here

with you.

With your little soft brown eyes

looking up at me in awe.

Forever.

I don’t want to ruin this moment,

as it spreads out

into eternity,

– a moment of moments –

with my imperfections.

My hiccups.

The things that I am,

from which I’d prefer to turn.

I just want to be here,

with you.

Forevermore.

Your smile so sweet.

Preserved in my minds eye.

A picture that will never fade.

Cemented,

into the frame of all that I am and will ever be,

by the love

that wills me to stay.

Forever.

I just want to be here

with you.

With your little soft brown eyes

looking up at me in awe.

Forever.

I don’t want to ruin this moment,

as it spreads out

into eternity,

– a moment of moments –

with my imperfections.

My hiccups.

The things that I am,

from which I’d prefer to turn.

I just want to be here,

with you.

Forevermore.

Your smile so sweet.

Preserved in my minds eye.

A picture that will never fade.

Cemented,

into the frame of all that I am and will ever be,

by the love

that wills me to stay.

Forever.

Little angel,

dance away your tears,

dress blossoming, with every spin.

Little angel,

forget your fears,

Daddy loves you, forever and for always.

Little angel,

Every day, in every way

I’ll hold you tight and never stop.

There you are.

A vision cast across the tender warming light of a distant setting sun.

Poised to move.

But wrought in standstill.

Traveling only to and through the stalwart fibrous filaments of my heart.

Golden shards of light illuminate you

make you real

as you stand

there,

in a faintly veiled, distant vision of what my soul wants you to be.

But in flesh, all of what you are with no difference in between:

My love.

My strength.

My sunlight.

You radiate

strength and power

wisdom and beauty.

A physical flight of fancy,

of fantasy,

perfection caressing you,

wind slowly,

sensually flowing,

licking you.

Your gaze soothing my aching heart.

To be so close yet so far away.

The two of us standing here.

Only the breeze of another seaside evening separating us.

And gravity holding us apart,

when all I want is to take a step,

to you.

My all.

My life and my death.

My beauty.

My love.

You are what you are

and I see you.

Free of the lenses through which I see this world.

Rough and tainted, by a life of weary worries and woe.

Lessons learned and others ignored, and hidden to all but you.

Free of me,

just the raw and unfettered you.

Gorgeous.

Perfect.

My Love.

There is an existence

between

time and the physical.

Like two sheets of clean, white paper,

they stick to one another.

We have wed them together,

Yet they didn’t need to be.

Peel them apart,

another universe awaits.

An existence, that’s calling,

For us to make the trip.

It’s always here with us.

Bleeding into our lives.

Sometimes we’re covered with the stain of it.

Red with the blood of it.

And yet we see

nothing.

Hear

nothing.

Say

nothing.

But feel

something,

like an emptiness that shouldn’t be there.

We find the void too hard to accept

And so we try to fill it

with all manner of things

and each other.

Like a voice we try to drown,

we turn away, busying ourselves with anything we can find

hoping that the sound will fade

the emptiness will fill

and time will leave both

nothing more than a distant memory,

Like those of a childhood dream.

But it calls.

It can’t help but not.

For it exists

and in existence a presence is fashioned,

a sound is beat,

a waiting is forged,

to be discovered.

On the tip of my toes.

Poised.

Lightly balanced.

Holding deep within a state of transition.

Between the place I once was and where I now want to be.

Holding, letting rest.

A sense of calm bound up in electrified wonderment.

Almost floating.

To the next little chapter of my life.

On the edge of my toes.

Floating,

out here in the place in between.

So far from any rhythm,

yet at the heart of it… where rhythm lies in rest between.

Swimming,

for a millisecond.

In an almost perfect state.

In the place that I was actually waiting

one day to find.

Your getting older

bolder

a teenager now.

And I don’t know how to be

what I wish I could…

Everything that you need

and want

from me.

You’re so smart

as sharp as a knife.

One that would never cut nor stab

hurt nor harm.

But without malicious intent

one that will,

through the virtue of its simple being,

slice away the corners

of my facade.

Such that you’ll come to see

that I’m just a man

No ‘super’ anymore.

Your heart is like treasure

huia kaimanawa

of the greatest kind.

So perfect in its sweetness

so soft and beautiful.

But I’m afraid that I’ve broken it

too many times,

with my clumsy, painfully imperfect, always-do-my-best but my-best-is-often-not-good-enough parenting.

I just have this sinking, gut-wrenching, nauseating sense

that I’m getting it all wrong.

And my hearts breaking

into little stain-glass window colourful pieces

now mixed together

with yours.

You’re so wonderful.

So kind and thoughtful.

So deep and mysterious.

So guarded but fearless.

So brave and direct.

You’re so wonderfully you

and I’m so delighted to watch

you bloom.

To be here, present, everyday, in every way, savouring this bless’d time.

I just hope that I’ll find my way through it,

for your sake not mine,

without the Teenager Instruction Manual.

Hello dearest followers. I’m back, after a long time away from PoemsofaDad, but not a long time away from being a poet and a dad 😊

So, I have more poems for you, which I’ll be releasing over the coming weeks.

Where have I been? Full-time-working, solo-parenting, managing all of the every-day, regular and not-so-regular-changes that come with the life of a family with a deployed parent. Phew! It continues to be no small effort!

The hardest thing to do,

To sit.

To permit the presence of stillness

To accept the task of simply

sitting.

To let go the urge to continue

down the path of neverending

tasks,

because your in-tray is always full.

To wrestle and bend

To coax and cajoul

To persuade and defend

All to get myself to sit

to step away from the next most important thing

the next most important excuse

not to sit

not to be here

with myself

still

where there is nothing

but all that I am.

Where there is nothing else

than the me that I see

when I sit…

The sense of my toes

curled

gripping the earth.

The touch, tingling, firm, yet soft.

Hold tight.

How is that I could miss this spot?

When this place is always with me.

How is that I could miss this sense?

Stable

Embracing

Carefree

Accepting.

When I can uncover it

as if it were waiting for me in the shadow of a ancient moss covered stone.

Simply by turning

inward.