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Dad Angel Poems | Angel Poems About Dad

These Dad Angel poems are examples of Angel poems about Dad. These are the best examples of Dad Angel poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Tanka |

LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night


Details | Free verse |

I Love You Dad

One of my earliest remembrances in this place; life
Was when I was about three or four years of age
The fear overcoming my heart thinking if ever
I were to be seperated from or lose, my father ?
Within my minds eye I see a small child in spirit
Walking hand and hand with their own beautiful 
Father amid heaven turning back to smile; John
There he goes, my dad and myself left sorting.... 
About this flesh; bittersweet, tides through time 
Which touch every life yet in faith I know that all 
Shall one day be well; as I wave and into the light
Their beauty's go rejoicing a soul; wiping love's tear.






...."John Harrison Sadberry ˜ March 26th, 1939 ˜ Beauty ˜ To, 
December 19th, 2012, &, 'Forevermore ˜ I Love You Dad!'".... *


Details | Narrative |

Night Angel

They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Agonizing
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
Bravely
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.


Details | Free verse |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Elegy |

Passing

To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.


Details | Rhyme |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm


Details | Dramatic monologue |

Angels

I live where angels fear to walk
Don’t ask questions, no one’s gonna talk
Another kid’s innocence is being take
Their thirst for blood will never slacken
Love is something only found in a fairytale
But those don’t comfort, when home is spelled H E L L
Left alone for days on end
Nothing else to do but play pretend
Trying to get lost in a dream
But when that doesn’t help, all you can do is scream
I’ve called the devil by his first name
His eyes are cold, mine are the same
I live where angels fear to tread
By the time you find me, I’ll probably be dead


Details | Prose |

Goddess

They say the sun shines on the skin of a goddess her hair dark filled with flowers and her skin of silk,
When you see her don't let her go she will treat u like a god and run her silk hands against the ruffness of your skin she will show u the right way to enlightenment her eyes golden brown so deep you can get lost she can see right through you and know the depth of your soul she will speak words so smooth softer then the wind 
Skin so smooth the sun follows her every move.


Details | Ballad |

My kiss from Heaven

My Kiss from Heaven

I used to have a Ouija board
I’d play with it for hours
I never really believed in it
I thought it had no power
It was just a novelty
To me, a piece of fun
Then once when I was playing it
Just before the day was done

All of the room went kind of still
And a silence touched my soul
It felt like angels were all around me
And my world felt kind of whole
My hand went whirring round that board
Like me, I could not stop it
I felt that I had no control
It disturbed me just a bit.

A message, well it seemed to come
It seemed to say to me
“Phone your father in the old country
And do it speedily”
So I did this, I phoned Mum up
She told me dad was sick
And If I wanted to see him alive
I’d have to get back quick.

Well I got back to see my dad
Then he died not too long after
I let him know how much I loved him
And we shared some tears and laughter
I ask, was this a kiss from Heaven?
It seems like this could be
All I know is I’m glad it happened
It changed my life for me.

11 September 2013 @ 1453hrs.
Peter Duggan.








Details | Couplet |

Unknown

Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.


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