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Lately when I am feeling sad at nights, thinking about my dad, I find myself leaping out of bed to grab a pen and paper. And I end up writing poems...they really, really help me to feel better.


by Chai

Thrashing crashing branches on the glass

The ancient thrum of a tired motor

White sycamore lines sentinel


The washed up river snake

A cantankerous bridge

The scribbling inanity of a pen

Scratching in darkness with one bony hand

Trepidation on the steering wheel

No hot fire burn whiplash down under

No screech fast melody of us on automatic

We slip slide swerve into black night fog

Over wilderness and under star symmetry

Warm laugh pen chewing company

My father and I on a trip together

To nowhere and Everywhere.



This sprouted out of a conversation I had with my counselor on Monday about driving around with my dad. Some of my most favorites times with him, were all the times we were driving and talking, on the way to somewhere together. It was a lot of fun, and very personal just me and him time. And he would write while he drove sometimes... :rolleyes:

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