When it came time to picking names for Christmas presents…their Dad was the name no one would vie for…because they all knew, when it came to presents, their dad was hard to buy for.


It didn’t matter who put their hand into the hat and drew out their dad’s name…when they asked him what he wanted…his answer was always the same.


“I’m surrounded by the beauty of nature and as long as we don’t destroy it…I’ve already been gifted with a number of ways in which I can enjoy it.


I can see sunrises and sunsets, hear the birds and smell the flowers too. I can taste the mushrooms from my garden and touch the morning dew.


I have a few aches and pains from growing older but I am lucky to be healthy…and though I don’t have a lot of money in the bank…in so many other ways…I’m wealthy.


I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food to eat and books to read.  I have the love of my wife, my family and friends…what more do I need?


Then he would smile, stare at whoever asked the question that year and say…”I think the best gift would be…if everyone in the world was as hard to buy for as me.”


Yes, his children had a hard time buying a present for their dad when it came to Christmas Day...but looking back on all their Christmases together...they wouldn't have had it any other way.



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I looked into the mirror this morning and I know the light was dim

but for a moment I swear I saw my father…so I waved and smiled at him


I didn’t have my glasses on which makes it hard for me to see


But I’m pretty sure, for a moment, I saw him smiling back at me

Daddy Issues

Poems about my dad

I want to know why

Why you left my sister and I

Daddy Issues.

I'd rather be playing outside with you

She'd rather be adoring you

Your company.

But we have daddy issues

Toxicity, dissent, then repent

I don't want to put any blame

I don't want to cry anymore

Daddy Issues.

I loved you, I love you

We become seperated, my role model faded

Anger and hate

I just want them to dissipate

Daddy Issues.

A relationship gone

Family ties cut

I know we still reside, inside

That heart of yours

You don't want to die alone

So you find someone new, no problem with new faces

But why don't your children count

Just watch as the old erases


Your company and daddy issues. 


We aren't all you have now 

Another family, wow

Find the time, let yourself be seen

A basement's view of someone else

Time dwindles and expires

Your face less seen until erased

Resentment builds, can't you see

Blame it on me.

No matter what you believe

I think we both can agree

Where did the time go?

Blame it on me.

Though, it's not all my fault

Forget the others involved

Disagreement, manipulation, situations

Past it all

Grown now, in my own thoughts

I've come to terms

It doesn't matter anymore

Just blame it on me.

Sleeping with my worries

Your abscense of love back then in my mind, gave me motivation to be something

But imagine the presence of that love back then...


If you ever felt pride in me,  I didn't know


If you ever cried for me,  I didn't know


If you would die for me,  only you would know


So let me know.

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One of the advantages of being a father and a grandfather…

is something done on my family’s behalf…

to teach my children and grandchildren how to have fun…

how to smile… how to laugh.


I take this responsibility seriously…

using humor to give my children and grandchildren a lift…

No need to thank me family…consider it my gift.


Through the years my jokes have been so good…I’ve repeated them like clones.

Occasionally they’re met with laughter…more often they’re met with groans.


Groans in the beginning…but of this I am proud:

Someday when they get older…I’m sure they’ll laugh out loud.


My granddaughter calls them Dad jokes…and they‘re usually met with…”Oh PopPop!”

Dad jokes instead of bad jokes…as if that will ever make me stop.


“What time did the man go to the dentist?” I ask, as unsuspecting Ava wonders why.

and she shakes her head and grimaces when…”tooth-thirty!” I reply.


Dad jokes…I can live with that label…if it makes my humor all the more bearable.

“Have you heard the joke about a piece of paper?” I ask her

“Never mind…you’ll only think it’s tearable.”


“How am I doing, Ava?” I ask. ”Stop me if you’ve heard these before.”

“PopPop please”  Ava pleads holding her hands over her ears…

“I can’t take this anymore!”


But I am unperturbed…knowing if this joke doesn’t make her laugh…

or give her a little thrill

I’m sure the next one…or the next one…

or perhaps the next one will!


“Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?” I ask.

“Oh, Ava, this is a funny one…you’ll see.”

“Because, as everybody knows,” I say…“pterodactyl has a silent pee.”


Wait, hiding there behind that groan…was that a smile I did see?

as a life-long teller of Dad Jokes…that’s good enough for me!


Yes, I take this responsibility seriously…my mission is not only to make her smile…


Not only to teach her about humor…but to do so…with some style.

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My Father's Dolphins Cap

My dad used to wear this old school 1980s Miami Dolphins cap all the time. Whenever he wasn't at work, or doing something formal, he made sure he had that hat on. He bought it in the good old Orange Bowl back when he lived in Miami, during the 1986 AFC Championship game against the New England Patriots (which the Dolphins surprisingly lost). That would've been the last game the Dolphins played in the legendary Orange Bowl since they moved to Joe Robbie Stadium the next year (now known as Hard Rock Stadium). Anyways, fast forward to September 18, 1997. I was born here in Monterrey, since my dad moved here because of my mom. When I got home from the hospital the first thing my dad did was dress me up in a huge Dan Marino jersey, put that cap on my tiny head, and take a picture of me. That picture is framed in my house to this day. The second I was born my dad had already turned me into a Dolphins' fan. Ever since Dan Marino's prime, my parents' wedding, my birth, Dan Marino's retirement, several depressing Dolphins losing seasons, and just overall tough and not so tough times, that cap has always been in the family. A couple of years ago my dad decided to give it to me and I have it on top of a shelf in my room. I don't wear it much since it is pretty old and worn out, but it means the world to my family and me, it resembles tradition in the family and it certainly is more than just a cap. My dad's loyalty passion for the Dolphins has taught and given me more than I could think of; I hadn't realized it until now that I'm writing this. It has taught me to be there for the people I care about through the toughest of times and stay loyal to them, it has given me more patience throughout the years since the Dolphins haven't been pretty good as of late, thus helping me in other situations where I could use my patience. It has also helped me embrace the little things, I remember watching the only game the Dolphins won during the 2007 1-15 season with my dad. It was an overtime thriller against Baltimore and I remember we celebrated it as if the Dolphins had just won the Super Bowl. Ever since then I know how to make the most out of any and every opportunity. But the thing it has given to me the most, is a special bond between me and my dad. Whenever we have nothing to talk about, we just talk about the Dolphins, if we are ever mad at each other, we just talk about the Dolphins and we forget about it. Every single football Sunday I watch the games with my dad and spend quality father and son time with him. All of this can be symbolized by one simple old-school cap, and that is what makes it so special.

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He loved to read me books about Superheroes...
how they’d somehow find a way
to use their super powers...
fight crime
and save the day.

How, even though they could do
what no mortal on Earth could do...
they would only use their power for good...
their hearts were pure
and true.

And I wanted to be just like them.
I wanted to be that guy
imbued with super powers
who could fly across the sky.

But it didn’t take me long to realize
that wasn’t meant to be...
and the real Super Hero
was the man who read those books to me.

Daddy angel

poems 1

She is wrap in 
a pink blanket
She is my everything 
she is wrap around 
my little pinky 
Daddy angel 
Daddy angel 
Daddy angel 
She is wrap in 
a pink blanket 
She is my everything 
she is wrap around 
my little pinky she is 
my world she is 
a daddy girl
Daddy angel 
Daddy angel 
I love hearing her 
calling me daddy 
and she is all 
grow up now
Daddy angel 
It is like yesterday 
she was a baby
She will always 
be my baby girl
Daddy angel. 
© Amanda Kay Hill

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My Dad’s Collection

Dusty old calculators and PDAs stacked in neat piles in the corner of a crusty cardboard box. My dad’s collection of electronic antiques grows constantly, expanding every time he visits a flea market or a garage sale, picking up antique typewriters and color-stained GameBoys. He takes each one under his wing. He takes them out of the cardboard box, cleans them out carefully, with Q-tips and alcohol, and blows them dry with a smile on his face, admiring. And then he turns them on. Most times, the light dimly flickers and quickly illuminates the screen — and his face. He grins with delight like a child on Christmas Eve. Other times, the light rapidly fades with a whimper, and my dad undertakes a new project. I watch him work endlessly in the dark of the night with a single burning light bulb, a magnifying glass and tweezers, trying to bring the contraption back to life. Sometimes he succeeds, and marvels at the machine as if it were Frankenstein’s monster brought back to life with the strike of a lightning bold. Sometimes he doesn’t. Machines aren’t made to last forever, and the more they age, the harder the process of reparation becomes. And then he arranges them meticulously in a stark crystal shelf, classified into small groups: the telephones, the keyboards, the processors, the PDAs, the calculators and the game consoles. He lights them up. He says he doesn’t have OCD, but we both know the truth. He cleans the machines carefully with a piece of cloth every week. He tries the lights every time he walks past the crystal shelf, and stops to fix them when they falter. I used to wonder why he took such great care of pieces of junk. One day, he told me. He said that every part of the machines represents a part of us. Apart, they are pieces of junk. But together — he said with a beaming smile — they create something. Something important, something full of light and full of life. When his father passed away — my grandfather — I saw my dad looking at his collection. He stared at it for a few minutes, and then opened his bag and pulled out a heavy brick-like electronic device. He held it in his hand, feeling its weight, and then placed it in the crystal shelf. He took a few steps back and looked over at me, and I could see he was happy. I understand now.

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My ode to Rhod Gilbert




hey Rhod how do you do?

Had to write a poem to you

lisened to you sunday

at heath Hospital sadly

went to visit my dad

in his final days, glad

his suffering now ceased

in a better place definately.


Veteran of the second world war

tho his company never a chore

impacted on everyone he met

day before yesterday heaven sent

so forgiving, understanding too

and would never turn down a brew

selfless till the bitter end

our loss is the gain of heaven

'Stormy' Lovegrove was his name

now not in the ball game



i knew his days were few

when i listened to you

the song you played by James

got my heart strings definately

sometimes, when i look

deep in your eyes, i swear

I can see your soul

very apt don't you know


I thank you for your choice

of music, given me voice

kept me strong in our loss

to circumstance a little gloss

i attach a link about my dad

tho please do not be sad

he has gone to a better place

full of love n gods grace

will be in Mondays echo too

amazing man, that much is true



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