Growing Up #2 Poem by Frieda Lumpkins

I never talk much about my Dad
Because, when I do I get very sad
I can't give my dad much credit
Dad didn't raise us, mom did it

Oh please don't get me wrong
I loved him, he used to sing songs
But dad could be mean with his words
I know, because I always heard

I heard him talk to mom, like she was a dog
And when he wanted his kids, it was to kill a hog
He would take us to his mothers
And they would sit and talk about others

They talked mean about mom and her kids
Like he didn't help bring us into this world, but he did
Don't get me wrong, I loved him, because he was my dad
But he always put his mother in front of my mom, and that was sad

Dad took us to his mothers one day
And we were sent out to play
While my dad set at her table and ate banana pudding
kids wasn't allowed to eat, mom got mad, because her kids couldn't

So mom came out and set with her kids
When dad got done, the fight was on, and she did
It was months before mom would go back over there
Heck it was months, before we went any where

The eight kids that mom and dad had
It was all left up to my mom, and that is so sad
If I had A gold award, I would ask my mom to stand up
Because dad didn't help us grow up

This gold statue, Is awarded to my mom
For raising five girls and three sons