Posted by: Krystal Bell | June 18, 2011

I’ve found my dad’s sound.

My dad sprinkled a little love all around.
I’ve found his sound.
His throat was parched and no sound was found.
Hearing pavement pound.
Looking for love in the wrong direction.
Living in poverty section.
Didn’t have a penny to his name.
Yet had fame.
Talking to the Lord till his throat hurt,yet going on despite the pain.
Evje knew there was much to gain.
I’ve found my dad’s sound at long last.
As God forgives me for my sin’s past.
My dad,pabbi did God honor and obey.
And followed order saying “OK”.
How I love my dad today.
“Won’t you please come home and cook?”
He took the rook.
Beating my brother in chess.
Oh what a game despite having less!
He dreamt of playing with an Electric Toy Truck a Rig so great.
And finding a suitable match mate.
It’s never too late.
Honor your father and your fate will be mate, made.
There was a shy little boy inside the man.
That only God satisfy can.



  1. Your poetry has an Icelandic feel to it. A fine tradition carry on.

    • Thank you,it’s part of me,even though I am an American and have lived there a lot longer than Iceland.I love the South and there is where I belong.

  2. Your expressions are great. At this time, I am not talking to my Dad, and dont know if I can ever forgive him.
    However your poetry is good. Keep writing.

  3. Thank you,that’s because I was inspired by the Holy Spirit.

    That’s so sad about you and your dad,I hope you don’t miss your opportunity like I did and then have to grief over it years later.

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