Poet: David Wainland


David Wainland lives in South Florida, but was born and raised in the Bronx. He is a part-time published writer and fully retired. His was a professional artist and welded metal for over thirty years. David is working on a novel and posts his writings on his Gather profile.




© 2011 BY David Wainland


Originaly titled My Legacy   

 © 2009


I leave the pages blank

for you to fill my son

In trust to you my words

Now my work is done


When I was ten

and not before

My father knocked

upon my door


In his hand

he held for me

A dog-eared book

of poetry


The spine was weak

the jacket rent

Most pages had

their corners bent


Read these my son

and you will learn

Free men read books

that others burn


When I was twelve

and not before

My father knocked

upon my door


Then turned a leaf

that caught my sight

Kipling wrote of

men that fight


Poe told tales

filled with gloom

Barrett’s love

entranced the room


Longfellow’s rhymes

captured dreams

While Alfred Noyse

sought moonlight beams


The Highwayman

and Gunga Din

The Raven knows

where I have been


My father always

did me proud

He often read

these poems aloud


If not for him

I know not when

My words would fall

from out my pen


He set my stride

upon the trail

Twas not for him

these rhymes would fail


When I was fifty

and not before

He rapped again

upon my door


The books are yours

my life is through

This my son

I leave for you


Eternal lies

my father now

This poem fulfils

a silent vow


When they were ten

and not before

My children heard me

at their door


Daily Response: For this week, the response will stay the same. In the comment section, please leave a message for the poet.

11 responses »

  1. Passing on poetry from one generation to another will keep the Art living in the hearts and minds more years than we can imagine. I applaud this poet for leaving more than a great human legacy.

  2. Kimberly, Thank you for posting this. through your blog, Gather and many other outlets, my father’s legacy will live on as it does in the hearts and minds of my granchildren.


    David Winland

  3. What a beautiful poignant poem to reflect upon, David. Your children are blessed, as were you !!

    I don’t know what my legacy will be…maybe my prayers for them and with them, every day of their lives.

  4. david wainland boca raton gather artist writer your talking about my grand father my name is skylar wainland wow oh the is one he told me his grand daughter a poem here it is
    if only i had an invisability hood

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