O' Daddy (poem) by Ronald W. Hull on AuthorsDen

O' Daddy
by Ronald W. Hull → (All Poetry by Ronald W. Hull)
Saturday, June 13, 2020 Rated "G" by the Author.

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Think about it. Anyone can become a refugee. All it takes are the right circumstances.

Macedonian Refugees Running Courtesy Channel 4 News 2015 O' Daddy O' Daddy, O' Daddy. Why are we on the run? What is it Daddy? What is it that we have done? O' Baby, O' Baby. I so wish you still could have fun. But we must flee. Must run. It is nothing, we have done. O' Daddy, O' Daddy. I’m thirsty, my throat is dry. Some soda pop or lemonade? My throat is sore, I want to cry. O' Baby, O' Baby. There's a stream up ahead, I'm sure it's there if we try, we must get water soon, or we will all surely die. O' Daddy, O' Daddy. I'm so hungry and so weak. Carry me. Carry me. We been walking for a week. O' Baby, O' Baby. I cannot carry you my dear, with this burden on my back. Only things we have left, all that we could quickly pack. O' Daddy, O' Daddy. I'm so tired, I can't go on. I'm so cold and wet in the rain. Why do we have to walk all night? Why do I have to have this pain? O' Baby, O' Baby. Please don't die on me. Your mother's gone. Gone, but we must go on. Please don’t die on me, Baby, we must go on. Copyright 2020 © Ronald W. Hull 6/11/20 You can view and print this format my website here.
Ron's Place

Reviewed by Jms Bell

Reviewed on June 25, 2020

INDEED! AND WE HAVE THOSE WITH CALLOUS MINDS AND HARDENED HEARTS WHO CAN TURN THEIR BACKS ON SUCH SITUATIONS...SUCH CRIES! I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND IT, I JUST WON'T...I CAN'T! THANKS FOR THIS KEEPER, RON. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...HIS+INSPIRATIONS

Reviewed by Budd Nelson

Reviewed on June 15, 2020

a sad commentary of those at such a loss
budd

Reviewed by Eva Pasco

It is another sad commentary amidst other plights.

Reviewed by J. Roseline

Reviewed on June 14, 2020

O my how touching,
you have done it up so well
The scene is recreated every time
something happening always to others

In India this time ( Covid 19)
it was the migrant labor with families
who was runny back to his home to stay safe
miles and miles of walking
with no sighting in the end

Reviewed by Odin odin@aflx.com

As always, your poetic explorations leave the reader pondering the essence of your wordsmithing. Another cry in the wilderness... heard loud and clear up here in Oregon. Kudos, Ron.

Reviewed by Michael Schafer

Jane nailed it with her comment. It would be hard enough being an adult refugee, but for a child, the horrors would be so much worse. Your words put a lump in the throat.

Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci

Ron! Your words tell us of the hell a child, A CHILD!, should never be subjected to but is. This poem really tugged at my heartstrings! Again, you mesmerize your readers with such "down to the nitty gritty" poem! Beautifully written nonetheless......as always!!

Love ya!

Jane

Reviewed by Ed Matlack

Reviewed on June 13, 2020

Sickening & sad, reading this and thinking about it can make one mad, -e-

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Sad, soul-gripping, and starkly real... ...your verses, at least for me, brought to mind the plight of so many fleeing refugees in this world. Well done, Ron. May love, peace, and well-being be yours.

Regis 🍁

Reviewed by Rebecca McKeehan

Becoming a refugee is by nature a tragedy. No one wants to be forced into choosing whether to live on the run trying to survive, or to die helplessly in the face of incomparable odds. Add the safety of children to the mix and the scope of the horror extends exponentially. I wish more people understood what your poem here has to say.

Rebecca

Reviewed by Tom poesyco.th@gmail.com

Sad Ron ... Sad !

We all have our individual problems, but refugees have the worst !

Freedom from persecution is a paramount benefit.

✌️🇺🇸✌️

Reviewed by Michael Jones

Perfectly written and my heart cries! I will keep all refugees in prayer. I hope God hears their cry, and feel their pain intervene with his mighty arm!

Reviewed by John Herlihy

Another sad tale of what can happen to people, in this case, all those poor refugees, the Syrians for example, but not just them. Your poem tugs at the heart.