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Fatherhood: Family Ties Poetry Prompt

By Heather Eure 8 Comments

fatherhood poetry prompt

I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by the little scraps of wisdom.”—Umberto Eco

To children, fathers are larger than life. They operate noisy machinery, heroically fix the unfixable toy, hammer their thumbs, thunder throughout the house, kiss boo-boo’s, and offer lessons no one else could teach. The man—the myth, whether present or in absence—shapes a memory. It’s natural that the subject of fatherhood is fixed firmly in poetry.

The hardworking, blue-collar dad in Robert Hayden’s poem, “Those Winter Sunday’s”, pays homage to a man known by his dutiful labor:

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

—by Robert Hayden

Sometimes, though, fatherhood shows up with a good dose of slapstick entertainment. Robert Pinsky once quipped,

From Polonius to Homer Simpson, fatherhood has sometimes been associated with comedy. Like all notions of dignity, fatherhood, in its dignity, invites the banana peel fall of satire.”

William Carlos Williams writes a witty poem about a dad who dances around in the altogether and proclaims his awesomeness as everyone sleeps (when no one can judge otherwise):

Danse Russe

If when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,-
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
“I am lonely, lonely,
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!”
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,-

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

—by William Carlos Williams

Try it: Fatherhood Poems

Think about fatherhood and the traits or characteristics that make a man a father. Write a heartfelt tribute to a dad who deserves the gift of a poem instead of another tie. You can also write a poem, remembering fondly, a funny dad moment. Dad’s do goofy things. You should definitely seal the moment in a poem and share it with us! 🙂

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Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a family poem from Karen we enjoyed:

Making My Way in the Middle

We were taking turns
Jumping off the rickety boards that felt 10 feet off the ground.
Those boards that were called a “porch” –
But we were too young to know better.
I saw it first – the rusty nail that lay below.
I tried to warn you.
But I was not the leader –
I was only the one led.
And so you forged forward
And learned a painful, bloody lesson –
And still you forged forward.

We were playing hide and go seek in the house
In that faded memory.
You were scratching the bumps like crazy,
And suddenly yelled, “My chicken pops are bleeding!”
And wouldn’t you know,
I was not the leader,
I was the only the one led,
And next in line to suffer from the
Disease of the “chicken pops.”

But I also had a small buddy –
One who giggled and laughed and playfully imagined with me –
And we spied, and we were sneaky,
And we teased the leader.

Copier, imitator, learning by observing
And mimicking.
And yet fiercely independent and so different.
It took many years to forge an identity
And a unique path.
Being in the middle is being glue.
Being pulled up and being pulled down.
Having unique thoughts and forceful opinions
That yet often get drowned out by the voices of leaders
And of mischief makers.

—by Karen J.

Photo by Justin Schuck, Creative Commons via Flickr.

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Heather Eure
Heather Eure
Heather Eure has served as the Poetry Editor for the late Burnside Collective and Special Projects Editor for us at Tweetspeak Poetry. Her poems have appeared at Every Day Poems. Her wit has appeared just about everywhere she's ever showed up, and if you're lucky you were there to hear it.
Heather Eure
Latest posts by Heather Eure (see all)
  • Poetry Prompt: Misunderstood Lion - March 19, 2018
  • Animate: Lions & Lambs Poetry Prompt - March 12, 2018
  • Poetry Prompt: Behind the Velvet Rope - February 26, 2018

Filed Under: Blog, Family Poems, Family Ties, Father Poems, poetry prompt, poetry teaching resources, writer's group resources, writing prompt

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Comments

  1. Rick Maxson says

    June 12, 2017 at 9:44 am

    Diamond

    The diamond disk cuts,
    leaves a fine dust veed
    along the strike-line
    tapped to break the glass.

    On the floor,
    in your workshop
    I played,
    brushing together what fell
    as your boots moved,
    speckled with solder stars.

    Light reflected off
    the bright grains, where
    it fell, in a memory of sand.

    It was harmless in my hand,

    edge dissolved by edge,
    a child’s slightest sigh sent it
    spiraling like a galaxy.

    Can a child be cut to fit
    a certain light?

    What formed my facets
    is fragmented and fragile.

    Such weightless days rescue years,
    like dust and starlight.

    Reply
    • Donna Falcone says

      June 12, 2017 at 10:05 am

      Rick… this reminded me of my own dad, busy in his workshop for hours on end.

      I love it… and I especially love this line and the imagery it whisks up in my mind:
      “as your boots moved,
      speckled with solder stars.”

      Reply
    • Heather Eure says

      June 13, 2017 at 9:10 pm

      “What forms my facets
      is fragmented and fragile.”

      Love that, Rick. Love the poem.

      Reply
  2. Donna Falcone says

    June 12, 2017 at 10:03 am

    Karen J. – I really love that perspective you offer – being in the middle is being glue. Thank you for that! I like your poem and all of the images there!

    Reply
  3. Jayashree.P says

    June 17, 2017 at 10:34 am

    My Leader Dad

    A strong hand
    Chasing me a pair of big eyes,
    Extracting me, his table grand,
    Twisting my ears-
    Me flinching as a hare,
    Dangling from his big hands
    Me, his daughter precious.

    Summer vacations-
    Visiting his older sister,
    Lantern nights, starry sky,
    His toothless Aunts tales,
    Running over thin ridges,
    Splashing muddy water,slipping
    On ribs of ocher mud of paddy fields.

    A ream of paper-
    He’s an Aristotle writing out
    Urgency hanging around,
    Speeches for public speaking
    Some for own, for rallies, meetings,
    Some mine, the school debating competition.

    Spiraling towers of cigarette smoke-
    Him reclining on an easy chair,
    Pondering, reading,
    Scribbling in a book,
    Me stealthily read first drafts,
    The many crumpled pages on floor,
    Stages and scenes of drama,
    Bin its new residence.

    Urgent care rooms-
    A frail man, a triage nurse
    A nasal tube, oxygen flows
    He holds my hands, a smile
    Struggles to appear,
    Mask falls, stuttered words,
    The blip blip of machines, a twitch
    Teary eyed me and my young mother………

    @Jayashree. P

    Reply
    • Donna says

      June 17, 2017 at 11:19 am

      Oh.
      I’m speechless.
      Thank you for sharing your heart with us all.

      Reply

Trackbacks

  1. Motherhood: Family Ties Poetry Prompt - says:
    June 19, 2017 at 8:00 am

    […] last week’s poetry prompt, Rick shared a reflective poem on fatherhood, from a son’s […]

    Reply
  2. The Family Table: Poetry Prompt - says:
    June 26, 2017 at 8:00 am

    […] Fatherhood: Family Ties Poetry Prompt […]

    Reply

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