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Daughter Love Poems | Love Poems About Daughter

These Daughter Love poems are examples of Love poems about Daughter. These are the best examples of Daughter Love 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.
Helpless, 
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, 
cautiously, 
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.

But 
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
shoes
when I get old? "


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
wishing
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


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


Details | Free verse |

Isle of Bast

Memories of the North Sea
sift in like sand kernels 
on a fast, frigid tide -
events that transpired outside 
the confines of rhyme,
instead, unfolding exactly 
as they were meant to.

I had never before seen
so many shades of gray.
This monochromatic splendor
was awe-inspiring,
within an absence of sunshine
that was perfectly fitting,
instead of being bleak and bleary.

The smell of salt and seaweed
awoke deep within me 
something dormant and eternal - 
a surging desire to flush
stagnant disease
from out of my blood
with an inverted force of pride.

Salty blood and water
coming together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.

A flash of bright red 
digging in the sand beside me.
My child is wearing the only
vibrant colour to be seen for many kilometres.
The colour matches
her enthusiasm and energy,
as she moves from one spot to the next
like a dancing flame.

My own fire burns in my eyes.
I had unconsciously dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
as a chameleon --
an illusion thicker than clouds,
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.

I look over at my daughter
who is wearing a wide smile of wonder,
for she has not ever seen the ocean before.
She can see the chameleon
walking alongside her in the frothy surf.
Together, we collect shiny stones and shells,
our pants rolled-up to the knee
as we wade through waves.

I wonder if people onshore
can only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon is more
noticeable than I had thought,
while we watch sea-birds
cover the steep cliffs
in a blanket of black and white feathers.




~(2012 North Sea Remix)~






.


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


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. 



Details | Ode |

Mother's Bookmark's

My thoughts they roil like waters dark 
in the abyss of blackest night, 
with memories of mother’s bookmark,
of Longfellow read by lamp light.
She called, in the room around me,
the patter of other small feet.
Her gentle voice fetched angels	.
Oh, the rhymes, they astounded me 
like lullabies soft and so sweet.
All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel.

Maxine, my queen, read Tennyson
and the Charge of the Light Brigade.
A little girl dreamt of caissons
roll, and thunderous cannonade.
To be so brave, the small child mused,
mother her precious, heroine;
what would it take to stand so strong	
without father, and not confused.
What words could be the linchpin
to right mother’s tell-tale wrong.

Such sad inspiration, mother,
oh, how I wronged you by being born,
though I loved you above all others.
Some thoughts of you make me forlorn.
Bring back the tales of mother goose,
three small kittens and their mittens.
Return the vision of your smile
the happiness your warmth induced,
let your spirit comfort, lighten
night, if only for a little while.





Details | Free verse |

Oh Daughter Mine

Be proud of your scars
oh daughter mine
now a mother of children dear
Remember the time
they suckled your breast
gorging on the food of love
Worried lines on your face
anxious frown on your brow
a love story you cannot erase.

Oh  daughter mine be proud of your scars.

Pendulos breasts wear with pride
your babies now full-grown  and wise.
Stretch marks remain to tell
  that you carried your babies well.

Oh daughter  mine be proud of your scars.

A badge of honor
that's what they are.
Thickened waist and cellulite disgust many
yet tell a story so sweet so true.

Oh daughter  mine be proud of your scars.

Uptilted breasts shapely hips
elegant thighs tell a story of their own
but you gave  your babies all you had
with love and tenderness.
 When they're grown and gone away
you will remember them still
 by the scars you bear today.

 Oh daughter  mine be proud 
Be proud of your scars.





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 ~*~


Details | Narrative |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


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