Poetry

Blame it On My Dad

Blame It On My Dad, an original poem by writer, Kem Smith.

I had things other girls wish they had.

Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my fault.

I blame my dad.

It all started in 1973.

My pops was the greatest because he delivered me.

My mom and he were married.

We lived in Germany.

And I couldn’t wait to get here, not even for a hospital.

Dad shoved us into his vw bug and we were in route.

Popping and rolling down the autobahn we went.

 

On two wheels we pulled on to the infirmary.

The vw bug was rocking that night.

The doctors from the hospital were nowhere in sight.

I popped out into my daddy’s arms.

His love he gave me from then on.

 

How do you give love to a daughter?

Shower her with time.

Bathe it in quality.

My dad taught me how to ride a bike.

He was there to kiss me goodnight.

I now know how to mow a lawn

And trim hedges

I can wash a car while pretending to be a movie star

I read maps, the real ones

Not gps, yes, I’m that blessed

When it was time for me to drive

Day after day, we sat in his truck

Practicing working with a clutch

My daddy taught me to throw a softball

To open my eyes so I could catch.

And run track, yeah my daddy taught me that.

 

He ate my food.

Told me it was good.

Showed my how to navigate the hood.

When boogie men came out a night.

He was there to give them a fright.

 

He was there to protect me from men

And boys.

Beat one dude up but that’s another story.

My daddy didn’t play about his little girl.

I was his whole entire world.

 

My daddy taught me that faith comes first.

He showed me how to pray,

At five am when I wanted to sleep.

Demonstrating God’s love is deep.

To seek Him early in the day.

I tell you, my father can pray.

He basked his family in words of loyalty.

Prayers to God on our behalf.

I had a daddy other’s wished they had.

 

When I grew up, I couldn’t understand why

It was hard to find a man.

I didn’t know they weren’t all faithful like my father to God’s plans.

 

I was shocked to see

Not every man prays.

Not every man stays.

Not every man hugs.

Not every man smiles.

Not every man dances.

Not every man laughs.

Not every man cries.

 

And a lot of them lie.

Not only to me,

They lie to themselves.

 

I was dazed and utterly confused.

What happened to these fools.

Full of blasphem and disbelief in God.

Specializing in distributing the blues.

Leaving trails of sadness and pain.

As if it were some sick game.

 

Too many times I heard, “I can’t be like your dad.”

And to that I say, “you’re right.”

My dad’s not the greatest man who ever lived.

He lives every day with the purpose to be great.

Men, if you don’t want to ask God to make you great for your sons and your daughters,

Then move on to the next one.

And don’t ask me why I am so mean.

I blame it on my DAD.

Happy Father’s Day, Pop.

 

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4 comments

    1. My dad didn’t have an excellent example in home while he was growing up. He chose to be the example. I wrote this because I want men to know, every decision matters.

      Like

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