Year: 2009

A Fatherless Fathers’ Day

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Facing my first holiday without my dad;
Abba Father, We Adore You

A Fatherless Fathers’ Day
Facing my first holiday without my dad
 
My dad is gone and there’s a hole
within my heart and in my soul.
A hole that no one else can fill
though countless memories try.
 
And though my dad has passed away,
I’ll try to celebrate a day
that by its name assumes you have
a father in your life.
 
I’ll stop to visit at his grave,
sift through old birthday gifts I gave,
flip pages in an old scrapbook
with photos of us two.
 
I’ll pen a poem ‘bout this man
who told me “Don’t give up. You can
accomplish anything you want
if you will just believe.” 
Then after supper guests will boast
about their dads, but I will toast
the man who won’t be here this year
to grace us with his smile.
 
I’ll thank the Lord for giving me
a dad who passed on faith to me
And as I see his empty chair,
my heart will fill with joy.

* My dad died on November 4, 2008 after a fourteen-year battle with cancer. My latest book “Sunday Rhymes and Reasons” is dedicated to him.

Abba Father, We Adore You
In celebration of our ultimate Father’s day

Abba Father, we adore You.
We Your children sing Your praise.
You are worthy to be trusted,
merciful in all Your ways.
Lifting us when we have stumbled,
holding us when we are weak,
whispering how much You love us
when our shame won’t let us speak.

Abba Father, we are grateful
for the gift of Christ Your Son
in Whose death and resurrection
life eternal was begun.
You adopted us as family,
deemed us worthy of Your love
and You promised to provide us
with the joys we’ve long dreamed of.

Abba Father, we acknowledge
how much we depend on You
when blind-sided by misfortune,
when we don’t know what to do.
Your perspective bids us focus
on faith’s outcomes we can’t see.
And Your unrelenting comfort
calms our raw anxieties.

tune: Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee

I Guess I Must Have Blinked

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Thoughts following a high school graduation;
Lauren and Her Best Friend

I Guess I Must Have Blinked
Thoughts following a high school graduation

“Try not to blink,” a friend told me.
“Don’t ever close your eyes.
Your girl will grow up if you do.”
His words seemed awfully wise.

But on the day our baby came,
I blinked away the tears.
I stroked her fingers, kissed her nose
and marveled at her ears.

Her features were so miniature,
so perfect, soft and pink.
I blinked again. My cheeks felt wet.
My eyes had sprung a leak.

Again I blinked, and magically
the years sped by and then.
She was a preschool graduate.
Good Lord! I blinked again.

In no time she was sweet sixteen,
the Barbies put away.
I closed my eyes in disbelief.
When did my hair turn gray?

Last night I watched my little girl
process in cap and gown
to clutch that prized certificate.
My baby’s college-bound.

 Amazed and proud, I closed my eyes
to drink in what I’d seen.
My baby, now a young adult,
a beauty, tall and lean.

This master of the silver flute
has really learned the score.
Life’s symphony awaits her now
as soon she’s out the door.

When did she leave her jungle gym,
the soccer field and rink?
It seems like only yesterday.
I guess I must have blinked.

Lauren and Her Best Friend
A tribute to the graduate and her gift of music

You held that shiny silver wand
when you were ten years old.
You cradled it and coaxed a tune.
First timidly, then bold.

And with that magic wand, my child,
you dazzled and amazed.
A gentle kiss. A puff of breath.
And silence turned to praise.

That two-foot pipe became your friend
so many years ago.
And though you gave your heart to it,
I had no way to know

the way your friendship would evolve.
The time you two would spend.
Your play dates caused my heart to dance.
I prayed they’d never end.

With sheer delight before my ears
you two became as one.
The sounds of Heaven filled our home
and I to them succumbed.

I realized you two were more
than afterschool playmates.
Together you will make a life.
It’s obvious. It’s fate.

It is a gift you two enjoy.
A gift that must be shared.
For God sings through the two of you.
That’s why you have been paired.

And soon you’ll head for school out east
along with your best friend.
The music in our home each night
will cease. But I’ll pretend

to see you in the other room
beside your music stand.
I’ll picture you with your best friend
held gently in your hands.

* Lauren Star Asimakoupoulos, the youngest of my three daughters, graduated from Mercer Island High School in suburban Seattle last night. That is the same school President Obama’s mother graduated from in 1960. Lauren is a gifted musician headed to Wheaton College Conservatory of Music to pursue a degree in flute performance. My wife and I couldn’t be more proud. If you’d like to hear a clip of Lauren in concert, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TljZ9YdUQ2k

Lost

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Sobering thoughts about Air France Flight #447;
A Father’s Relentless Pursuit

Lost
Thoughts about Air France Flight #447

That Air France pilot danced with wind
between Brazil and Paris when
his plane went down and all were lost
much like that TV show.

But unlike LOST, no one survived.
Debris was found, but none alive.
Beneath the depths of that dark sea,
death claimed the lot of them.

No doubt those victims screamed in fear
as that jet violently veered
from left to right, then up and down,
before it fin’lly plunged.

And now the fam’lies that remain
are lost in grief without much aim
and without answers as to why
their lives won’t be the same.

A Father’s Relentless Pursuit
Why David Goldman won’t quit fighting for his son

Life for David Goldman sucks
for no amount of hard-earned bucks
can free his one-and-only son
from those who kidnapped him.

It is a hell that steals his peace
while waiting for young Sean’s release.
No words exist that can describe
the agony he feels.

But like the shepherd David was
(who left the ninety-nine because
one missing lamb is worth the risk),
this David will not quit.

A father’s love (like Heaven’s hound)
won’t give up till the lost is found.
It’s biblical. It’s what God did.
His love can’t let us go.

The Bronx Cheers

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

But the jury is still out on this judge;
And It Didn’t Come to Pass

The Bronx Cheers
But the jury is still out on this judge

So, who is this The Bronx cheers for?
It’s Son-i-a So-to-may-or!
She is Hispanic, female, smart.
As PC as can be.

So will this woman be confirmed?
It seems most likely, but I’ve learned
that unhatched chickens sometimes die
in Washington, D.C.

Those leaderless Republicans
may hold out just to prove they can.
And if they do, Soto-may-or
won’t be a V.I.P.

But, if Obama gets his way,
he’ll find an Asian and a gay
so that our highest court
can one day sing Y. M. C. A.

Should this be our supreme concern?
That no niche groups feel dissed or burned?
I rather think the benchmark is…
Is this one qualifed?

And It Didn’t Come to Pass
Attempting to digest North Korea’s nuclear tests

Like diarrhea, North Korea’s
claims are more than gas.
We are misled to buy the lie
their tests have come to pass.

Like diarrhea, North Korea
could strike without alarm.
And worse than simply stomach flu,
that would spell global harm.

Like diarrhea, North Korea
must be kept in check.
To just pretend that all is well
could blow us all to heck.

So what’s our option to deter
the likes of Kim Jong Il?
Perhaps a missile whose warhead’s
a Kaopectate pill.

Memorial Weekend Reflections

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Let’s not take those names for granite

It’s a weekend to remember
those whose names are etched in stone
on some marker
in a quiet grassy field.
It’s a respite for recalling
those who fought to win the peace
lest the doom of untold millions
would be sealed.

Lest we take their names for granite
and assume that freedom’s free,
we’d do well to take some time
to just reflect
on the currency of valor
that was used to purchase peace.
Spending moments is a task
we can’t neglect.

As we seek out cemeteries
to plant flags or lay a wreath,
let us thank the Lord
for those who paid the price.
Those who now lay six feet under
were once foot soldiers of peace,
who with courage gave their lives
in sacrifice.