REGRETS I'm sorry more I did care I had a chance while you were here. It's just that I was unaware I never saw you shed a tear. I did not know you had been hurt You always seemed right to me But when you said, "I feel like dirt" I sensed something I could not see. That left a hole for you inside, A world for life to feel alone Because someone could not abide A sin for which you should atone. Despite your wound you handled it well All obligations that you bare. You cared for me that I could tell I know there wanted to be more. Had you taught me what I now know? I could have tried harder. I would just take a bow We will be much more than friends. I washed you, dressed you, and helped you shave. When we went out, I helped you walk. I helped you see things. But through it all we did not talk. If I could do it all again I'd hug you at least twice a day. I would try more to ease the pain. "I love you," is the least I'd say. My memory of your last night Is comfort for which I am glad? I held your hand, time to aid your 'fight.' I said, "You did a great job, Dad." God bless and goodnight.
© Yvonne Mary Livingtstone-Kania
Mourn His Loss
We can only mourn his loss, 'Through wretched was his life Death took him from the cross Leaving his wife.' God works a wonder now and then, Even though he ended his days. He was an honest man Cared for all his children. Raised them too, the best he could. Enjoyed planting flowers and produce Until his eyesight lost its use. He then only had tendency to sit and think, For his nearest, dearest kin? Where thought images and precious thoughts That shall not die and but later get destroyed. 'He now sleeps with those he loved.' We sit and remember his laughter And always mourn his loss. Not sometimes, but every day. © Yvonne Mary Livingstone-Kania
Bio: Passionate and tender work, yet tiring, all the poems ever written by Yvonne Mary Livingstone-Kania are highly powerful, confirming there have been complications and relationships with lovers, with family members and with herself.
According to 'Regrets' and 'Mourn His Loss' and indeed others ever written by Yvonne, these poems speak about the death of the poet's father; they draw her back to when her father passed away and grief hit home. To help her through the rough time of losing her father, she decided to write poetry. "Poetry is a defined form of rhythm which is written or spoken to express feelings, meaning and emotion."
