PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My father need not for an introduction;
He is deemed for doing it all as a teen,
He's the ace of gunwars and seduction,
And you know exactly what I mean.

He is the lord of the Miami gang scene,
My father was never afraid to make fights;
He's retired and given up the ghetto dream,
So I can have one of many peaceful nights.

Life as Sir Master G's sole heir
Is a great way yonder from being perfect,
And it's a storm before breezes in my hair,
But each royal moment is worth it.

I enjoy being the firstborn of reformed thug,
Because I have my own ideal father figure
Who always open for a parental talk or hug;
Never did I question why he left the trigger.

Fortunately, Sir Master G's the perfect father,
And I would not have it any other way;
Objections you have? Do not even bother,
Because I wish not to hear what you must say.

I want to thank my father for being just one,
He may not be that very book smart;
I know he endeavored to raise me as his son,
And what he says comes from his heart.

He's the role model to whom I look up;
Although, he is not a wizard, he still street wise;
For that I tip my hat and toast my cup,
Because Sir Master G's the ghetto hero in my eyes.

I am Sir Master G's firstborn;
One day they'll call him Graham's dad,
When that day comes it will be people of scorn,
And we both shall be of praise and glad.

Here's to Sir Master G's rein;
A lecagy I vow to cherish with pride;
A tradition I pledge to endlessly maintain
With every vessel which pumps my blood inside.