Poem Home

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Welcome to our landing spot highlighting the many poems from Flominic, who also is known as Dominic Farrenkopf. His poems will appear here regularly through the year. Weekly you can also find a printed copy at Chapter One Book Store in Hamilton. For many, many other poems check his website.

Remain
“Dear Soldier Son,
I hope bootcamp is treating you well.
Your dad, sister and I
miss you more than words can tell.”
***
“Dear Mom, Dad and Lil’ Sis,
my short hair is sharp looking!
I miss you all too
and mostly I miss Mom’s cooking!”
***
“Dear Paratrooper Son,
how is training at Airborne?
I pray for your safety
every night and every morn.”
***
“Dear Mom, thanks for the prayers
they are a comforting thing.
I just finished jump week
and received the Silver Wing.”
***
“Dear Specialist Son,
tell me about the jungle heat.
I’ve sent along some fresh socks.
Please take care of your feet.”
***
“Dear Mom, thanks for the socks.
I shared them with my buddy.
It’s great to have a change.
When it rains it’s so muddy!”
***
“Dear Corporal Son,
I feel prouder of you each day.
Am I selfish to wish
that you’d never gone away?”
***
Early this afternoon
there was a knock on the door.
A uniformed chaplain
said you were with us no more.
***
The next day, this arrived:
“Dear Mom, I love you, Mother.
Please know I’m serving
to bring freedom to all other.”
***
“And even if it means
laying down my only life,
I’ll do it willingly
to attempt ending this strife.”
***
“And if that day comes,
I know my death won’t be in vain.
Love your freedoms
and in your memory I’ll remain.”
***
I kept reading his words,
my eyes were no less wetter,
but I felt comfort…
that he’d received my last letter.

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Nuisance
I went to the supermarket
on my lunch break.
I needed a few things
so no time it would take.
***
I grabbed my stuff
and headed for the checkout line.
One lane had one lady,
I thought that would be fine.
***
I pulled in behind
and put my stuff on the belt.
She was unloading the speed
of an ice cube melt.
***
She put an item down
and then watched it ring up.
She stared as intently
as a drug-sniffing pup.
***
The courtesy clerk
asked her about plastic bags.
“Paper in plastic, Dear.
I don’t want tears or sags.”
***
The cashier scanned some fruit.
“These strawberries look nice.”
“Yes, they do, Dear,
but they scanned in at the wrong price.”
***
The cashier called for a price check
and then carried on.
She scanned some cat food.
“Oh, my! I have a coupon!”
***
She searched for the coupon
in a pretty large stack.
The checker scanned some gum.
“Actually, take that back.”
***
My lunch break was ruined,
of that there was no doubt.
I thought, “Can I save it?”
She asked for carry-out.
***
“At least it’s over,”
I muttered under my breath.
What then came next
made me long for an early death.
***
I watched her reach into her purse
and, "Oh my heck!"
This grocery line nuisance…
was gonna write a check!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

The Attempt
For Mother’s Day
the kids and I would surprise my wife,
with the most delicious breakfast
she’d had in her life.
***
I did some secret shopping
down at the grocery store.
I sneaked them into the fridge-
hiding them was a chore.
***
I got up early Sunday
and went and woke the kids.
We got to work,
trying not to rattle pots and lids.
***
Blueberry pancakes, bacon and eggs
graced the menu.
Breakfast in bed was the plan,
her bedroom the venue.
***
My son was on bacon,
I would mix up the batter.
The bacon was on ‘high’
and covered up for splatter.
***
While I mixed up the batter
I turned on the griddle.
My daughter was on eggs
even though she was little.
***
Making the batter from scratch
was sure no easy job.
Next, my daughter dropped an egg-
it was a messy blob.
***
The berries made my batter blue-
I am not joking!
The next thing I knew
the bacon was really smoking!
***
The alarm went off,
she woke and caught us in the act.
She looked at our disaster,
then nicely said with tact,
***
“Though it was a valiant attempt
at breakfast in bed,
Why don’t we get dressed…
and go to the diner instead?”

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

History
It was a bright clear day
in the middle of spring,
I was at Grandma’s
playing on the tire swing.
***
I stood on the tire’s top
and peered at the bark,
they were easy to see
as their outline was dark.
***
I ran to tell Grandma
about what I had found.
I climbed up and pointed,
she looked from the ground.
***
“Read the letters, Sweetie.”
I read, ‘L loves T.’
“That’s my grandparents,” she said.
“They carved on this tree.”
***
“My grandparents originally
bought this land,
they planted the fields
and built the house by hand.”
***
“They worked this land
until their son, my dad, took over.
He met Mom during the war,
she was from Dover.”
***
“Come down and look over here.
They carved ‘C loves A.’
They ran the farm together
until came my day.”
***
“Your grandpa and I
carved our initials right here.
I can’t look at ‘J love C’
without a shed tear.”
***
“One day this whole farm
will go to your mom and dad.
They should carve their names next,
that’d make me glad.”
***
There’s a lot of history
you can clearly see,
When you take a good look…
at your own family tree!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com