Family Poetry

A Father’s Lie

This has been my yearly lie to my family.

Thought I might get ahead of the game this Father’s Day. With a wonderful family, it’s not unusual a week out from Father’s Day to hear the words, “What do you want for Father’s Day”. Pretty much every year I say something like ‘nothing’, and all these years I’ve been lying through my teeth.

A Father’s Lie

I’m going to tell you “Nothing”
Because its what I think
You want to hear
That your Dad and Husband
Isn’t the shallow or greedy one

You see its seven days till D-Day
The father’s, Dad’s day dawn
And I know you’re running late
On any form of pressie bought

But I’ve been lying each Father’s Day
I do want something from you
It’s expensive and it’s scarce
So how can I expect it
When I sense I don’t deserve it

You’re probably sitting there
wondering about my expensive taste
Is it the gadget or the sports equipment
The brand name clothes or latest widget

No, nothing like these trinkets
Although I’m tempted by them
They’ll never satisfy like this
They’re out of date next season
Or the launch date that I missed

What I’m looking for is out there
And I’ve seen it in your life
So, Please Sir, I’d like some more, please
And just a tiny touch will do

When I see your smile, I know
Its very close to coming true
This life has some purpose
To will and to carry
And may it be upwards too

You may think I want your love,
Your adoration and your praise
That saying “You’re amazing”
Will fire my belly and
Fuel my days

But no, you may have missed it
When I cry and pray for you
I want peace and happiness
In all the avenues of your life
And I know a ‘touch’ will do

Because I’ll tell you a secret, not a lie
I’ve experienced the power
Of a God fueled life and space
Where my sense, my drive, my purpose
Comes from knowing I am loved with grace

So, what do I want from you
This Father’s Day
It’s ‘nothing’ physical, that is true
But as my son, my daughter
Let me give this wish to you.

May you be blessed
With never-ending hope and purpose
May you always see a crack of hope
See past my broken visage to
A heart beating deep for you

You are, and always will be loved by me
Because ‘mine’, isn’t possessive, its a joyous pride
A face of tears at every photo
In the journey of my mind
My love invested, now reaps gladness

And now if one day you’re still wondering
What does Dad want for Father’s Day
Just be still and remember cuddles
Think of the times I said, “Love You!”

And I’ll know, oh so deeply
I’ll feel it, and so will you
That you’ve given me everything
I could ever want from you.

Lotsalov Dad

Andrew Pitchford
Father’s Day 2020

Link to “A Father’s Lie” artwork: CLICK HERE

Family Poetry

Granddad’s Poem

My Granddads Poem
For Abbey and David White boys Jamie and Milli

Hey you two, slow down
Your Granddad can’t keep up
You’ve been quick out of the gate
Faster than lightening,
I looked up and you were gone

Why’s that?

I was looking forward to playing with you
From blowing raspberries on your belly
To soccer tricks in the yard
We’d have some fun with Nana
And her Mars Bar dessert treats in your tum

Listen young Jamie, you’re running ahead
Following Milli, not slowing for breath
You two make a great team
You’re inseparable too
Running together into the blue

I miss you!

Now listen young men
I do wish you’d hung around
Dad, I and your Poppas
Had some great yarns to spin

We wanted you to know
You were born to be legends
Men of honour
Tall as trees

You’d be lovers of life
And champions of justice
Kind in the battle
And proof of God’s mercy

Why did you leave?

You two are so cheeky
Playing hide and seek
I still know where I’ll find you
Safe in our Saviour’s keep

I’m planning to visit someday
Like you, I don’t know when
Till that day, you celebrate
Like happy young men can

I love you young Jamie and Milli
I know that Mum and Dad do too
Don’t you worry about them
Because we’ll love them and care
for them just like you’d want us to

Lotsa Love my Grand kids
Nana and Granddad

Personal Poetry

Your Life Paints a Canvas


If you think of your life as a poem
what will your verse be?

Family Poetry

White Wedding Faith

White Wedding Faith

White Wedding Faith

Dedicated to Abbey & David

Today I’m absorbed by White
Taken away to this Wedding Day
Built on Faith and clothed in Hope
Prepared by time and drawn by Love

Moving slowly,
With my nervous smile
Dad, my escort down the aisle

Keep calling, calling me,
Drawing me from shadows
Keep loving, loving me,
Holding me under cover
Be the one who calls my name,
Loves my name
Halt my breath with love
Start my heart with love
Be the one

Hear my heart
You’re timed to turn
Waiting breathless for your Bride,

His head turns to see my face
Days of patience transformed
From a glimpse into a glorious creation

Keep calling, calling me,
Drawing me from shadows
Keep loving, loving me,
Holding me under cover
Be the one who calls my name,
Loves my name
Halt my breath with love
Start my heart with love
Be the one

Live this life and serve the Lord
Enjoy His favour through pleasure and pain
Still serve each other, Love each other

With each year a milestone
The path is paved with celebrations
When we’re old or if love feels cold
We can enter back through the glow
Of our white frosted frames of
Life’s sweet memories

This union of our two
Is now complete as one
What began with a Wedding
Beats strong as a Marriage
You are the one
For me

Andrew Pitchford
November 2013

To read the Father of the Bride Speech that came before this poem click here.

Observations Poetry

Do we have Empathy with Suicide?

A while back I mentioned “The Box”, a cardboard filing box full of old writings, poetry and creative work I had worked on particularly when I was involved in youth work at our local church. During that time I had a job working as car salesman at a local Toyota car yard and from a tragic situation I wrote the poem on this page called “My Friend of Eight Months”. Attached to the car sales was a mechanical workshop, a parts division and a Shell petrol station. While everyone worked different hours and the business embodied a wide range of personalities including mine, the focal point was a social room where people would gather for drinks and a game of pool after work.

It was here that I met a young man who started work at the petrol station. He was a great guy, always encouraging and seemed to constantly have a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Sadly it was this same young man who didn’t seem to have a care in the world who didn’t turn up for work one Saturday morning. He had committed suicide the night before after his shift. I don’t know what was the tipping point. I have no idea whether his burden was one he had carried for so long that he had found a way to make it look like he had it sorted out. Maybe something hit him that night or week that he felt unprepared to deal with.

Suicide is the hardest level of empathy. I know he deserves my understanding. He had my respect as a friend and a colleague. Sadly now there is no way to empart the empathy or listening ear that might have heard a clue or connected two dots to help him avoid this fate. We wish that there had been a way to connect him to counselling that may have seen him through the mire he was in. It may have come to pass, but for him counsel was either unavailable or in a place he could connect. I’ve tried now to listen better and be a better friend to others. I know I still get busy but I grew in a small way to think that a smile doesn’t always reveal a heart. As I dealt with his death I wrote this poem a little while after his funeral.

If you have known or have walked alongside someone who has committed suicide I’d love your thoughts in the comments below the post. Many thanks for being willing to share.

My Friend of Eight Months

Thinking back is to late and worthless
Except to remember the good
His pleasure of friendship
The wide smile of greeting
His zeal to assist me
The dry sense of humour

I wonder what life was like for him
All that can be done is learn
Urgency meant rush, rush, rush
His music turned to peak
Drive and get around alot
His style was loud to impress

Wish we could turn the clock back one week
But how would we know?
His manner was jovial then
Was he different to you and I?
His personal life quite unknown
Remorse and sorrow mix bitter sweet

Written: 16/3/1991
Author: Andrew Pitchford

Observations Poetry

Up to Heaven

Up to Heaven

I wrote this when the father of a family I knew passed away. It was hard to see a soft quiet godly man die and yet you knew he was going to be with His Lord and Saviour. Sometimes words fail to express what is being felt inside.

Up to Heaven

I knew a man, so strong with silent features

Quite a man

He loved his own so dearly and even me

Quite a man

It’s hard to understand why God led him by the hand

Up to Heaven

But deep inside we know it was a better place to go

Up to Heaven


Author: Andrew Pitchford

Observations Poetry

Things that should be said

Things that should be said

Things that should be said

There are many things I'd like to say
and there are many things I could
But if all I do is say them
then I guess I never should

You see words without meaning are like
flowers without their petals
or morning without its dew
like a puppy without its soft wet tongue
or me without my you.

I know that I don't own you
You've given that honour to the Lord
All I want is to be your friend
then I can love you to the end

My heart has turned full circle
and twisted like a rung out cloth
Tears fall like rung out water
as I come to face my fear of loss

I've let you down and this you know
but now I lift you up to show
You are my love I'm not ashamed
I'm proud because you bear my name

Your smile has always brought me joy
It helps me remember life's to enjoy
To God I lift my song of praise
Your beauty is defined, there is no more

You've dedicated yourself to Abbey and me
Our little family at this time only three
But I feel it is my turn to make a stand
I love you, I need you, I care for you
Please hold my hand.

Love Andrew

Author: Andrew Pitchford
Written: 1992

Observations Poetry

Time and Slumber

Time and Slumber

Time and Slumber

Time is measured by the once
but pleasure by the pound
We forsake the hour's warning tide
Sit back with men feeling warm inside

Did Christ enjoy social expense
Or sit in critique at a neighbour's fence 
His time was ours he spent it well
Used healing hands to salvation tell

Why do you slumber instead of march
Is this gratitude, limbs stiff as starch
Accept what yours, forgiveness free of charge
Heaven's transport flown, not a deathly barge

Author: Andrew Pitchford

Observations Poetry

Spiral Jail

Spiral Jail

Spiral Jail

Cries of anguish spout forth in fear
Who can I believe?

The postman is my wife's best friend
My heartache a banker's leer
Our priest buys his VCR, our sacrifice 
My own resolutions end this January hour

So I delve into the closet for a skeleton feast
Place them in a heated age
Let loose the flow into a sculptured mould
Cool past the molten phase
Because man is made man and not a priest 
We make mistakes from embarassed rage
So forgive us for our lives which now unfold
Trying, we're blocked by the wall amazed


My heart should be flushed, rid of doubt
Which way will I turn?

The corner store is poverty's struggle
Oceans separate blood by water
Sex becomes video's smorgasbord selection 
This home is shelter against my mortgaged soul


Author: Andrew Pitchford
Written: 22/11/1990 

Family Poetry

Written for the One I Love

The One I Love

Written for the One I Love

When darkness fades
And glory shines you open your eyes and hope to find

A starling on your pillow
A valentine in your arms who nestles cheek to breast

You alight from bed to floor
Going to prepare a succulent feast as you tiptoe out the door

Content, refreshed and showered
From the house you leave with love you cleave to crack the open sky

Find a spot, a secluded one
Walk hand in hand alond silk golden sands and learn to dream

Cleanse your soles together
On salty shores reveal your souls to heavens soouthing balm

Talk becomes priceless time
When sipped between friends as a sweet chilled wine

Trust and open "Pandora's Box"
This woven basket of picnic pieces satisfies the prevalent appetite

Singing waters beckon bathers
to soak embracing all of natures reviving good cheer

Stroke the passioned stallion's mane
You fire his heart a firebox of embers, nostrils race with steam

Should one be one alone
No let them come intertwined as love's evergrowing vine

All money spent is lost
when trying to win your love my motives must be clear

The precious memories held
Will note be bought to corrode in life and bring us fear

Today we built a friendship
Intimate in detail, purest of materials, loved in conception and still real!

Author: Andrew Pitchford

Written for Cheryl for Valentines Day 1991. We won a bottle of wine when this was submitted to the local paper, the Te Awamutu Courier when they ran a Valentine Day's competition.