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Life Daughter Poems | Life Poems About Daughter

These Life Daughter poems are examples of Life poems about Daughter. These are the best examples of Life Daughter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
when I get old? "

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs

Details | Free verse | |

Like a Rock

I carry my mother 
like a rock in my pocket 

that I just can’t seem to throw away 

It serves me 
no purpose, 
it just weighs me down 

When I first found it, 
when I first picked it up 
and started carrying it with me, 

I thought it so beautiful – 
I could look at it for hours 

But, like my mother, 
it never looked back at me, 
never grew warm under my loving gaze 

For the longest, I was blind to that, 
Blind to anything but the beauty, 
blind to the cold, hard, 
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone


I carry my mother,
a thought without weight

And she’s heavier

and she’s colder

than all the stones
there are

By the time I recognized her 
immutable, emotional unavailability, 
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –

But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart

Could not stop
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,

Might just become
its own opposite –

Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm

But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water

When my mother
stops being
a stone

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson

Details | Rhyme | |

Suicide Mind

What makes the decision
To flick the switch
To end ones life
For the sake of it
Troubled, debts
Bullied at school
Fork in the road
To let death rule
Mums, dads
Daughters and sons
What ever affects them 
They just can't outrun
Sadness and tears
By all left behind
Will they ever understand
Suicide Mind

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013

I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over

Sabrina Niday Hansel

Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When the Time is Right

For nearly 45 years I never spoke of  that day; the emotional pain was too great.
I simply hid it in the lining of my soul, knowing in my heart you didn’t stand
a chance with me as I stood in the rubble of my life and let you go, wrapped
in my heart with a wish and a prayer- all I had to give. And for 45 years, 
I dreamed of you and me playing in fields of daisies under blue skies as
I cried inside, wondering where you where, and if there was a part of you  
that somehow would remember me- would remember the bond we made 
in that single moment we shared together, when the nurse held you up to the
nursery window for me to see as I  stood on wobbly legs, with my trembling 
hands holding unto a pole with a dripping IV?

I prayed. Lord! How I prayed that someday, by the grace of  God, 
you’d come back to me when the time was right. 

So I lived my life. Got back up and crawled out of the rubble that was me, 
and lived with half a heart that somehow still managed to beat.

With the passing of  time, I bloomed; sometimes red, sometimes blue when I thought of all the years we could have shared as I sat and listened to family and friends 
tell me of the joyful times they shared with their children, grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren as, I  smiled and  cried inside and dreamed of you, 
and all the years of your life I  missed and, all the years I would never know. 
It was then I realized I was a very lonely soul. So, I wrote and wrote and
wrote, never suspecting for a moment that  nearly 45 years later,
you would find me through a poem I wrote for you.

I know I can never replace the mother and father who raised you, for the bonds
of time shared  are  much stronger than blood. Yet knowing what a wonderful 
women you turned out to be, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate  
and now with a daughter  of your own, is enough for me, and someday  
when the time is right for you, I hope and pray , we will meet again.


                                                 Elaine George 

This is a true story.  It was through this forum ( poetrysoup ) my birth daughter found me. 

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Rhyme | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Limerick | |

Princess Needs A New Car

Princess just wants a new car.
I have told her that hers will go far.
'Oh, it's really not cool
driving this crap to school.'
'Do I need that emotional scar? '

'The kids will all laugh at the rust.
When we race, I'll be left in the dust! 
I will save up some cash
then we'll make a mad dash
to the car dealer surely you trust'.

'He will make us a wonderful deal
and I'm sure you will know how I feel.
I will love you so much, 
My siblings... I won't touch.
Just get me behind a new wheel'! 

Now she'll be cruisin in style.
She'll be happy for only awhile.
There will always be better
and we'll try hard to get her
a car that will make princess smile.

Copyright © Mary Nagy

Details | Free verse | |

My First Child

A precious gift! Joy unimagined fills my heart She smiles! My heart races, leaping! And like a butterfly in spring, gliding, It dips among new blossoms Like a sweet melody playing softly in the cool of the evening, I soar! My baby, my first, like an angel sleeps Soft, warm and brown I stare in awe of this most perfect gift from God! Tiny almond-shaped eyes, sparkle- searching Nothing as beautiful have I ever seen! She cries and her teardrops like crystal daggers Pierce, my joyful heart! And like a wounded sparrow it plummets Free-falling, and I am left puzzled...confused Nervous, I gently hold her close to my breast I am sure she can feel my heart beating.. Suddenly our faces brush... she turns- Our eyes lock, and smiles ripple! My first born--all is well in my world.
© 1992 ~*~

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Light Poetry | |

Fatherless Child

There once was a day I would watch every airplane.
Praying you was on it to come take me away.
As a child I wanted you around until the day, you actually came.
The day you came is the day my life forever changed.
I remember as if it was yesterday when you physically violated me.
Mental visions as early as the age of eight, but old enough to vociferate.
Visualizing mental pictures in my mind while I am awake very aware of the improper abuse I take.
Your body on me feels something like an autopsy of a dead body.
While you lay on top of me as you press aggressively on me.
Against my will your force kept me still.
I am trying to understand if you recognize who I am.
I try to say no hoping you can comprehend; I am weakling as you apprehend.
Mentally and physically I became involuntarily your property. 
A main character in a horror story, and you were my predatory.
I asked “God why?” as I bare to stare into his eyes.
This is not thee love I seek; all I wanted was my father to love me, but not like this injustice of violation of my rights.
This love is not real; not the love I wished to feel.
As he tries to stick his tongue into my mouth too young to know what this is all about.
I grip my lips painfully tight as he tries to slip his tongue inside.
I close them tighter with all my might, as he whispers, “let me love you right” 
I beg him to leave as he pried my legs open with his knees my insides scream “somebody please help me!”
As he whispers how much he loves me I’m praying for God to just kill me.
I rather be dead then a man’s punching bag.
As I lay there my body was dead, and I laid my soul to rest.
I looked around the room and seen the Old Spice on the desk the same fragrance he wore around his neck.
The sun began to rise as he began to close my thighs.
In that moment in time I had made up my mind any man that ever say they love me was just telling lies.
I learned the hard way that love does not kill your inside; love does not take your pride.
A fatherless child I shall forever reside.
Every day that passes that little eight-year-old girl dies slowly inside.
Asking Jesus,” Why permit this?” and he slowly whispers…as I gently whimpers, “faith is the light that guide you through the darkness, my words reflecting as a lamp unto my feet.”
“Walk unto my path I’m here to carry the weak, come into me you are weary and overburdened. I will carry the pain you have obtained.”
“I am your father and you are my child you are never fatherless because I’m always around.”

Copyright © twanna Irisha

Details | Free verse | |

I Want Not to Fade Away

My one burning wish -
I want not to fade away
like rotten lace, dumped
onto a trash heap and forgotten.

I want to leave myself behind, 
for those who come after
to inhale during breakfast.

Not money, like my mother,
who judged it to be the only thing
of worth she had to leave behind,
as though her love meant nothing,
as though her virtue didn't count.

A nonpareil pattern of motherhood,
of personhood for that matter,
written in permanent script,
propagated in layers of goodness,
flung onto her progeny
with the glue of infinity. 

As long as I live, so will she.
I want that, 
when it's my turn to go.

Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Acrostic | |

Captcha WHA6

When I was only five
Heard mommy always's say
Angel  keep being naughty and you won't make it to

Entry for Adam Hapworth's
Captcha Acrostic Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |

Little Yellow Socks

* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks.

Little Yellow Socks
       by Amy Swanson  12/5/2008

Little yellow socks
running down the hall
"Slow down with those socks on,"
I'd yell... too late, the fall!

Little yellow socks
padding softly late at night
climbing up into my lap
one more hug, out goes the light.

Little yellow socks
follow me with squeals of laughter;
Oh how she loves to run in them,
Begging me to come chase after!

Little yellow socks...
now not being worn a lot.
My little girl is growing up,
No longer just a tot.

Little yellow socks
will be cast aside someday
I must guard these precious moments;
in my heart, they'll safely stay.

Copyright © Amy Swanson

Details | Free verse | |

Its Raining...

                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again


Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | Free verse | |

Year of the Acorn

Year of the Acorn
(For my Father who
has Parkinsons &
22/12/12  21:21

Out on a winter walk
one day
you solemnly put an
acorn into my hand.
Something in my head
"Keep it safe
and he'll be safe".
I kept it to this

Year one.
One candle on my
burned into my
mind's eye forever.
You took a
to keep me in the

Year four.
My sister arrived in
the world. 
You took me to feed
the swans.
Back home
she greeted us with
I fled, covering my

Year thirteen.
Mother told me the
facts of life.
You kept well out of

Year nineteen,
A disco at the end
of a long, quiet
You always drove me
safely there and
You were judge and
of all boyfriends.

Year twenty three.
You gave me away
to the best
boyfriend of all.

A montage of eras
replay in the bright
lens of memory
till the year of the
and the acorn.

And I kept it safe
so you'd be safe,
only now it looks
cracked and old;
not quite like an

and you are not
quite like you.

Copyright © Sara Louise Russell

Details | I do not know? | |

Listen to Her Cry

How can you not understand?
How much I need you in my life.
If only you could be my friend
And listen to me when I cry.
A girl needs her father’s love
To be willingly; not forced.
When she trembles inside out
She really needs to hear your voice.
Not only setting certain rules.
Or telling her what not to do
But also in a quiet time.
Just telling her she’s really fine.
Don’t talk to her about mistakes.
She won’t forget them anyway.
Just tell her it’ll be okay
And listen to her when she cries.
She really needs her dad tonight
To be at home; to hold her tight.

Copyright © Alvena Cherchenko

Details | Elegy | |

I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | Ballad | |


Life is a many things
Sometimes life is a dark tunnel,
But every tunnel has a light at the end
I will be your lantern to guide the way
Cling to me and I will keep you from the darkness
Life is a giant battle.
I will be your shield and spear 
Your spear to pierce through the horrible people
Who want to harm you, 
Your shield to protect you
From the battles you cannot win your self 
life is many things my dear 
But I am here,
For you to use, to cherish, and love.
Life is many things my dear. 
But you are not alone.
I am here. 

Copyright © Trevor Bain

Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees

(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Rhyme | |

Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.


Copyright © James Nichols

Details | Personification | |


One moist patch, like dewy grass,
surrounded by a field of weeds,
emerges first and breathes at last, 
through openings, the air it needs.
Cut off from, and cut off of;
counting on, and counting in;
from down below, to up above - 
A smack on tender, crimson skin.
	There is a pulse.

One spring bud, like seedling stems,
surrounded by a garden wall,
is standing out from all of them, 
despite the fact, they're just as tall.
And though the bud has not yet grown,
the soil and the water see
more than just the seed they've sewn.
They see the flower it will be.
	There is a pulse.

One tall stem, like climbing vines,
surrounded by its petals' plumes,
shares its elegant designs,
and stretches as it blooms.
And when the wind begins to call,
the flower spreads it's pollen 'round.
It falls in love, and loves in fall,
and falling love renews the ground.
	There is a pulse.

Copyright © John Taylor

Details | Free verse | |

Soul of a Daughter, Life of a Stranger

Yesterday when I stood before him, he spoke my name
Today, I still stand, but the floorboards are cold
and he no longer knows the color of my eyes. 

With each spoonful of the steaming grey I lift my arms,
Up, then down, again and again, a repeated motion – weeping,
My arms are trembling with the weight of the spoon
that holds in its cupped womb my raw, injured soul.

Father, I say, in a voice cold from straining not to break 
I prod away the soup dribbling down his chin, gently.
The wrinkled hands are limp at his sides, lost.

What should be mad and free is caged within me; fluttering
feebly, thumping about in a circle of broken pieces
The look in his blank eyes has labeled me a stranger
But when they are closed my name is written on his face.

Copyright © Grace EunSong Lee

Details | Sestina | |


No mother would fill up her eyes with tears of woman...
if it weren't for God performing a miracle at dawn,
as she cried out in joy and held her baby in trembling arms
but shed many sweet tears hearing his laughter so loud;
oh, he couldn't see her mommy's face through his tiny eyes,
and it will be long before he'll will utter the first word, " Mom." 

Now that baby sleeps under the attentive look of his mom,
who's too young to become a mature woman;
many visions of this birth crossed her gleeful eyes
she dreamed of the very same words whispered at each dawn,
repeating them in her silly head as if they sounded too loud...
while cradling a pretty doll in her folded arms.

Will she be welcomed home by her parents opening their arms?
Will they reprimand her and not consider her a legal mom?
Perhaps they will not be angry and speak not so loud:
girls are supposed to be girls, not suddenly turn into woman...
So this innocent girl, deceived by a bad boy, must wake up at dawn
when her baby cries and feed him with scary, childish eyes?

Nights seem longer for her, trying to stay awake rubbing her eyes,
what she beheld in those exciting eyes, now it's a burden in her weary arms;
she remembers that pain was too unbearable, but joy more sublime at dawn...
how will she learn how to care for the infant by watching her mom?
She must have seen a nursery or read a book how to think like a real woman,
and can anyone imagine how she keeps that secret instead of revealing it loud?

She must gather enough courage inside to feed her baby who can't cry loud,
but for now she must carry that baby without sighs of distress into her bright eyes;
and her parents can see the changes making her a loving person already woman;
they may ask questions to why she has gained weight and holds dolls in her arms...
no, they aren't anticipating great news and in doubt, they await a splendid dawn.

Mother and daughter closely together amazed by the coming dawn,
any concealed secret can be easily spoken...somewhat joyful and loud;
they imagine the infant's futures will be part of grandma and mom!
Their reunited hearts come together to show love in their delighted eyes,
and they'll take turns feeding the new-born, tenderly lulling him in their arms;
what if forgiveness hadn't been there to deny her all of the joys of woman?

Would a mother deny her daughter compassion as a good woman?
Even God hurried dawn to offer that gift into her gracious, tender arms...
and those arms accepted it with the gentleness and kindness of mom.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Narrative | |

Eat Pray Love

On the edge 
of the evacuation zone
Miyuki holds her daughter 
tip-toeing in pink sneakers 
her small hands fragile 
blossoms opening
to the man with the beeping wand 

They were outside in the karesansui 
washing and raking 
rocks, when the school 
heaved, convulsed 
then pressed into silence
voices rising inside

So now they wait with strangers
in ordered lines of sorrow 
for bread and drinking water 
as an adolescent, eyes downcast
sees the small pink laces and
offers up his only ration 
of precious onigiri

Hooded and white masked they walk 
three days and bed-less nights toward 
Ishinomaki by the ocean
to family, friends, and home forever 

The landscape jumbles unfamiliar
with plastic wreckage 
and automobiles 
detritus flooded in a field
where Japonica once grew
while moon-suited men 
and women gather
albums for the living

And after sunset Miyuki moves 
her little girl away 
from a white-taped blue-bagged 
lifeless form 
toward the humming black-robed Monk, his
prayers for light 
and workers burned
exposed to radiation ten 
thousand times too high 

And in the shadows one old man kneels
beside a fetid pool and scoops  
rice to carry back to neighbours 
moved to higher ground, un-opens 
one last bottled spirit
bows his head and offers
Miyuki and her first and only 
everything  he has 

At last they reach the shelter’s glow
beneath the starless robe of night 
not used to wearing 
shoes indoors
Miyuki helps her daughter fold
sheets of painful news into
an origami box to hold
her last and only pair

And in the morning as they face
the stretch of road for home 
to unknown love and losses there 
they turn and gaze toward the east 
awaiting still 
spring’s warming breeze 
to rise with brilliant red once more
new light of wondrous dawn 


'karesansui' is a Japanese rock garden or 'dry landscape'.  Rocks are often washed.
'onigiri' is the emergency rice being distributed to survivors in Japan.
'Japonica' is a type of (short-grained) Japanese rice.

for Debbie Guzzie's contest, 'Tribute to Japan'

by ~Soulfire~ 


Copyright © Soulfire

Details | Free verse | |

Dear Rosebud

Dear Rosebud:
The morning dew gently caresses you
like the faint whisper of a young child's kiss.
Your limbs yearningly reach for the sun
as if awaiting a long lost lover's embrace.
Only a pair of vacant eyes could fail to see
the wonderful symphony of color waiting to be.
If allowed to come into full bloom uninterrupted,
butterflies will dance liltingly across your awakening splendor
as honey bees sing praises to your blossoms burgeoning bounty. 
I can only pray your thorns grow sharp and rugged enough
to defend against the groping  hands of life's wickedness.
Only the desires of the most savage hearts would ravage
a still unfolding beauty and extinguish a spectacle yet to be.
Only a vile pair of ears could fail to hear a shattering heart
and the soul deafening screams of a rose picked too soon.
Love dad...

Copyright © Kim Morrison

Details | Rhyme | |


Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.

Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.

Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.

Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?

Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.

The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.

The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.

Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.

Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.

Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.

Copyright © Kelly Zakerski

Details | Free verse | |

Since First I Saw You

Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.

Copyright © Mac McGovern

Details | Name | |


I am the daughter of eve ,with the strength to create or destroy the world,but you nasty people
Judge and say me as a simple weak being.
Was born to be beautiful being but you made me suffer my whole life.
 During childhood,I loved playing with dolls  and with friends,
But you wanted me to do the chores so brother can enjoy.
He enjoyed all the pleasures and had all the fun,while I was in the
Hot sun,doing the work like a nun.
I worked like a donkey,but he had the turkey.
As he was the son, and I was none.
He had to read the books and I had the food to cook.
And there came a new man in life ,for whom I was wife.
He earned money and I was honey.
he had the authority and I was in poverty.
He was the ruler and I was the bearer.
All I wanted was the love ,but he gave me the stove.
The  days passed and the seasons changed,but my life hadn’t.
Designation changed from wife to  mother,nursing all the time .
Was split into  two by husband and kids,but the heart always 
Desired something else.
Kids grew and flew to new destinations. 
the heart does crave and yearn for love as it is stupid,as it doesn’t 
have mind to think,and it is  there only to feel.
I want to learn, read ,play and relive those moments which were 
Mine  but were snatched away as I was a girl.
But it is us, who make this world beautiful,peaceful and happy.
We are mothers, daughters, sisters above all we are human beings.
Treat us like fellow humans but not like slaves,then you will see
The more beauty of the world.

Copyright © kenisha shines

Details | Rhyme | |

My Treasure Chest

I have a wooden cedar box
Filled with precious things
Most of no value to you
But joy to me it brings

A copper penny, 1961
The year I was given life
A withered old white rose
From the day I became a wife

Two certified legal documents
That tell me that I am free
A US birth certificate
And a final divorce decree

Golden locks, adorned with ribbon
Clipped from the head of my son
A bag filled with tiny teeth
Exchanged for a dollar one by one

A report card, five A’s  and one B
My sons first year at school
A tattered silken blanket
Still covered with infant drool

A book of poems that I had written
While I was a rebellious teen
Fifty plus love letters
From then, now and in-between

Old yellowed photographs
Of family long since gone
A dozen crayon pictures
That both my kids have drawn

Hospital anklets, pink and blue
That both my children wore
A stupid keep out sign
That I used to hang on my door

Each item within this box
Is a memory that I hold dear
I keep them for a distant time
When my memory won’t be so clear

So if you wish to see inside
To you I have one request
Do not call it just a box
‘Cause to me it’s a “TREASURE CHEST”

Copyright © Dawn Drickman

Details | Rhyme | |

My Parent

My Parent

The rules said “one parent not two”
Good for me as I only had you
No selection; no one to choose
Who is this parent; just follow the clues

Next rule; write something “profound” 
Something good or something that makes you frown
This one was easy 
Considering all you ever said was greasy

“You stupid _____”
This one was rich
“Go get the belt”
Not satisfied till there was a welt 
The pain is still felt

How about “you swine”
Became a preference in time
Not “go to bed”
Followed by a blow to the head
So hard could have become brain dead

Your scars are still here
Your pain I still wear
Your mistakes I still bare
Your voice I still hear

Your secrets I now declare
Your presence I no longer fear
Your wrong doings I am aware
Your hate is replaced with tender loving care

Did you follow the clues
Who's this in reference to
Someone you want to be related to
Perhaps it’s someone you already do
This is my parent… I wish it were untrue!


**For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
* Honorable Mention

Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


               Mama, I saw you in my dreams.. 
                  Your face lit up as I see you...

               I remember how you protect me..
       I remember how you tuck me as i want to sleep..
         I remember how you hold me when i'm sick..
         I remember how you smiled when i succeed..
            And how you cry each time I'm broken...

                         Mama, I miss you...
                  I don't say, i love you much...
                    But I put it in many ways...
                    I want you be proud of me...
                 I want you not be scared of me...

          Trust me, I can manage & pass any storm.. 
                      Trust me, I'll not give up..
                 Trust me, I am no child no more
Trust me, I'm putting into actions what you want me to be...

              Mama, I wish we shared more hugs...
                   I wish we had more strolls...
                   I wish we sang more songs..
                  I wish we do gardening again..
            I wish, I'll make your pastries again...

                       Mama, my only mama
                   I love you in thousand ways..
             Carrying me nine months carefully...
                      Please on your birthday..
                         Be happy and merry...

                      I am your second daughter..
           Who have been loving you better and better...

12:25 pm

note: this poem is made and inspired by my mama, for whom have always been with me all the time and who have never stopped loving me.. thank you ma...


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo