Heritage Haiku

Posted: December 28, 2015 in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

My dad (MidiMike) asked me to share a poem with all of you that I wrote for him when I was younger. He has always been a huge influence in my life. I’m certain that my love of music comes from him, as does my love of poetry.  I hope this poem gives you a little insight on what it was like to be raised by a musician.- Alisa

Heritage Haiku

My dad wrote over

One hundred songs in my life.

I still quote the words.


If you think that your

Paradise is a place then

You’ll never find it.”


His basement band shook

My bedroom floor, creating

Huge waterbed waves.


Lessons learned from Sting,

David Bowie, and Pink Floyd.

“We could be heroes.”


Ran sound on weekends

I slept under his sound board.

Protected by wires.


For years he worked at

A music store. Customers

Were my fathers too.


Microphones, ADATs,

His baby grand piano.

Guitars not Barbies.

  1. The Bioman says:

    Xcellent. Thanks and to your Dad!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Chris White says:

    Wow. I like this so much. I feel the love. Wonderful.
    All the very best for 2016. Kris.

    Liked by 1 person

    • midimike says:

      Thank you! Growing up it is sometimes hard to know what will end up as important events that shape our lives. Grown up we can see the effect and understand the beauty around us. To you as well!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. IsyLLiS says:

    Your dad sounds like a lovely man. Lovely poem! Thank you for sharing this and for your visit.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Rock on kid! Your dad’s raising you right!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. nanancay says:

    This is awesome. Your daughter is awesome.

    I feel kind of nostalgic at the soundboards – we were once small enough to crawl under but now we’re too big to fit comfortably. Cats are lucky, they fit into anything ):

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Nicodemas says:

    So very cool! I love this.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Souldiergirl says:

    This an awesome write- so glad you shared this!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. othermary says:

    This makes me smile hugely. As a parent I can think of nothing better…this says volumes about both of you and your relationship.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. michnavs says:

    Wow., that kid can write poetry.. beautiful

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Susan Scott says:

    Good on your Dad 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  11. tracihalpin says:

    This is lovely! It is interesting to hear her perspective. It made me realize that my love of music started with my dad. He always had music on. Sometimes we listened to the moody blues in the dark and watched the fishtank. Beatles, frank, beegees, billy Joel, and my brother got me into rock like Eddie money (shaking ), AC/DC, Def leopard, and van halen, and then I found u2 and bruce and billy idol, and the love affair continues. My daughter loves music too. She’s constantly listening to symphonies or lana del rey, or adele, or Shoskovitch or ariana grande. I’m always playing music.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. rubiredsaid says:

    I liked this!
    When music is a lifetime dedication, it expands with every word or note. I no doubt believe that your experiences of your Father and music has shaped the way you look at music today.
    I find his tutorials really good and I know many others do. I think you’re lucky to have him as your dad and he is blessed to have you as his daughter.
    Best wishes!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Hi midimike. Sounds like a baptism of fire! Thank you for liking my poems The Fort! Derelict! and The Blood! Peace and Best Wishes. The Foureyed Poet.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. BB says:

    Ahhh! My Dad is also a music guy and I spent many a very happy evening listening, playing and writing with him. In fact, some of the best memories of the best years. Awesome post from you and your very talented daughter!

    Liked by 1 person

  15. dougstuber says:

    Dunhwa gets
    water-heating pot,
    slips on orange hand-
    knit or crocheted
    slipper socks, rattles
    cups behind drawn shade, then she

    reappears, uncurls
    new rice paper paintings for
    to see. He wants them
    all, picks one.

    Her kindness
    comes from magic heart
    connected to roots
    sunk in old markets:
    men without eyes, Eve creates,

    men think, women birth,
    are attached to earth. First woman
    means new life
    but paint dries in so
    many ways:

    over and
    over to find the right flow.
    Dunhwa hides
    nothing, moves forward,
    discovers her path

    as she goes,
    creates as a woman should,
    as one who
    is directed by
    universal tug.


  16. breakdownchick says:

    Liked by 1 person

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