Tag Archives: dad’s poetry

‘The Great American Novel’

by L.W. Seeley Jr.

last night
before I went to sleep
I wrote it
in my mind
using invisible ink
in lieu of
when I woke up
this morning
the pages
were blank


Person-to-Person [for Pat]

parentsMy father’s poem to my mother:

when I talked to you
on the phone the other night
after twelve years of no contact
and you with two kids
by another man I’ve never met and don’t want to
I didn’t recognize your voice at first
with its southern accent and matronesque maturity
but I knew it was you and in my wayward mind
whose thoughts I don’t seem to control too well
even after all these years
you were nineteen naked
and it was the first time
all over again

L.W. Seeley, Jr.

Epiphany II

In a clear night of a billion stars
our bodies bundled from the cold
we stood upon the ancient hill
touching each other and the world

as spirits swirled around our heads
the chanting and the drums below
evoked another universe
we would never comprehend

as all our world was kept at bay
for one almost eternal moment
we knew the pureness of ourselves —
now you are gone

L.W Seeley, Jr.


The cards no longer jump from my fingers
as they did when I paced the barred corridors
or leaped from the rooftops like angels
while the guards in their towers watched nervously
or sang in the darkness curled under the cot without

In the dispensary I took everything I could.
I knew my number and part of my name.
When the locks fell away I discovered my cage.
Now the streets have no end and the houses no number.
When I read the words fall apart in my eyes.

by L.W Seeley, Jr.


Lie back onto the grass.
Prop your back against the rock.
Do not mind the sheep,
the dogs will watch them.
The air is hot and still,
but the wind will touch your face,
sing quietly in your ears.
Feel the grass against your skin, both soft and sharp.
Feel the rock against your back, telling stories.
Feel the earth under your fingers, sustaining you.
Forget the sheep; they are only an excuse.
Forget the dogs; they know what they are doing.
You and the rock will become one.
The grass will take you to itself.
You will not be alone.

— by Lawrence W Seeley Jr.