Photographs, yet so much more.

....and, again, deleted....

The first line reminds me of a Beatles song. But, when I read into it more, it wasn't quite that.

I looked at it as a simple poem about your father and a symbolic religious allegory (yep, I'm a weirdo) and it was okay. But I didn't quite like the last four lines. I think it can be stronger. It's one of those lines where I know what you're trying to say, but it's not quite working. Right now, it's an understatement, but I think you can exaggerate it a little bit more.

I see what you mean. The last stanza is kind of off....I like the first two lines, but not sure about the rest of it. And I totally agree - it probably does need a bit of work, but then again all my poems do, because I just rush it all out in one go and don't really go back to it.
Where did you see the symbolic religious allegory?

The question would be more like where did I not see the religious allegory!

*grits teeth*

Okay, I am about to sound insane, but you asked, so bear with me. (And I'm not trying to convert you or anything... that would be the last thing I would ever want to do. These are just my thoughts on the poem.)

I see God, not as some unearthly dude, but as my daddy. I figure that it's better that way -- when I'm pissed off with my family, at least I'll feel like I have some support.

But having God as a father is kind of strange, because you know he's there and everything, but at the same time, it doesn't feel like that. He's alive, but he doesn't seem to be paying any attention to you, even when you need it most. And it's frustrating at times, because you want to believe, but your consumed with your own helplessness that it becomes impossible.

I ripped up all your photos,
Tried to erase you.
I don't want you to exist,
And I want not to need you.

When I read that, it struck me as some sort of religious allegory. Everybody's tried to destroy something that is so dear to them, but so saddening and sickening, that they can't help but to try to destory it. In my case, the thing that I tried to destroy was my religion. I didn't want to be kept by some sort of God because that would mean that I am helpless.

But I came across them later,
In a plastic Waitrose bag
Double knotted - I untied it,
Ran the pieces of photos through my hands.

And yet... you really can't get rid of it. The photos, though torn, were never really destroyed, and once more you turn back to it. It's in a simple bag (we hide from God with the most simplest things) and we run the shreds in our hands. Is it lovingly? With disgust? Who knows. You left that to reader to decide -- lucky you. In my case, I see it as longingly.

Ran my fingers over you eyes,
Your hair,
Your nose, so much like mine.
Pieces of a dream, crumpled in that plastic bag.

Yep... seeing God not as some sort of cosmic bully but as a human. And yet as a dream.

That an almost adult should lament
Her father in such a way,
To wish he were dead,
To try and block him from her mind.
And yet, when he is rarely there,
To desperately just want him to stay.

Almost adult indicates a child that will never turn into an adult. Since the phrase is "we are the children of God" then it sort of fits. And then everything else seems to support this.

To hold the little girl within,
Like he should have when she was.

A longing to be a little girl. Such a nice thing...

And then... the four lines don't seem to fit. Oh, I hate when that happens!

I think it's because you say "You" instead of "He." You refer to him in third person before, then you go off into second person.

Yeah!

I did like it, believe it or not. So... um... yeah... excuse the religious rant, and know that you are capable of writing things that people will overanalyze to death.

Lol to be honest, if you see that in my poetry, then fair enough .
I'm not in the least bit religious, but I can see how, if you are, you could see religious connotations.
But as a matter of fact it was simply a poem about my (unfortunately) biological father.