Father’s day has come and gone,
And life goes on the same.
Women, are the ones with clout,
State those with any brains.
But recognition had to come,
As a form of courtesy,
To help the poor misguided males
Believe that they are free!
From morn to night, they think they’re right,
And all must goes their way,
But little do they ever know,
Reader’s Poem / They have but little say!
For years, the Fathers have lost ground,
And giving up as well.
Becoming weakened and wore down,
As most anyone can tell.
And then they say: comes Father’s Day,
We will pump him up a bit,
To hide what’s really going on,
And all that doesn’t fit.
He’s now renewed and stoked with food,
With new energies revived,
And now he can go work some more,
To bring in more supplies.
And so it goes, as observers know,
Who see this subtle game,
The poor souls who are deep involved,
Think life is all the same.
So I propose that once a month,
Father’s Day returns,
To give them strength and more at length,
Than what one year can earn.
By H. Emmett Finch