Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer

Daughter Faith Poems | Faith Poems About Daughter

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

12345
Details | Rhyme |

COLORS for MOTHER

     COLORS for MOTHER,

Looking towards the blue sky
Every color camouflaged around the cloud
Tears of sadness began to dry
Watching all the colors display out loud

The dark needing to fade
The grey in my life finally made sense
Colors overlapping, forming a beautiful cascade
Shoulders of tense

I imagined your smile against the yellow sun
Giving light to all the matter of the things I've done
A warmness in my red heart-- together in the long run
Creating a new purple and pink sensation-- as one

My new rainbow doesn't come in black and white
Giving reason to follow the joy of light 
A gift of colors remind me everything will be all right
A guide blazing throughout the night

Lavender plant blooming for the world to see
A garden of every color just for me
Everyday I see the sunrise, rising up in colors of glee
My Rainbow will appear everyday without rain, no matter how deep the sea

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, the perfect skin tan
My sweet angel your the largest spectrum where ever rainbows span

:-)

by;PD 
I wrote this poem for my mom.
Rhyme


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
one-hundred-and-seven 
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 
transformed 

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~ 

 


Details | Free verse |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Narrative |

Passing On of Little Bee, Ojibway, Thunder Bay

Little Bee, Deaamoo, grandmother of the Crane Clan, lies staring. The light of 
winter’s first full moon falls into the room. Through a ghostly haze of tobacco and 
sage smoke, she sees her loved ones. One withered hand clasps a cowrie shell, 
mee-ghis, tightly to her heart and in the other she holds a small dreamcatcher for 
her youngest granddaughter Little Aamoo. Strands of gray white hair escape from 
her braids which trail down beside her bird-frail form touching the fringe of her 
parting dress. Her clan has been in the sweat lodge praying for her safe journey 
home, some appear red-cheeked; others are a pale as the shades of her 
ancestors.  It is the end of her days, a time for passing on.

Outside of the house near the fringe of balsam pine a circle of stones are laid, each 
one blessed and bringing an anchoring comfort to man, lodged between earth, and 
sky. The four directions are marked and her way west is clear for her. Soon, she will 
ask loved ones to lay here amongst the gifts laid for Pacugu, The Great horned Owl, 
near the spirit house.

The veil is thin now between this world and the next. The smoke branches upward, 
showing the way to sky world where Gichi Manidoo waits. The songs are being sung 
for her now. The Shaman’s rattle is crisp and clear. All about her is beauty. Drums 
keep the beat of her heart. They wait. Remembering one last story, she calls her 
family to her, she must leave them with all the knowledge she has. "Ah, what was 
that story? Well, that is not for you." 





Details | I do not know? |

The Dandelions Were Listening

I never did the 
''He loves me not....
He loves me'' game
with flowers.
I already knew nobody loved me
so why should I listen 
to a stupid flower? 

I did make wishes 
on dandelions 
after the bloom died
and it was tiny spikes of fluff
waiting to blow away 
till next year.

I hated wasting my time
but I couldn't resist.
I figured
''If there's even a small hope
that this will work....
I've got to try! ''

I would find a spot
where nobody could see me
and I'd whisper
my one wish
the same wish
every time.

Thousands of dandelions 
blown away 
by my pleading breath.

I never told a soul
my wishes.
Until now.
I wished to be happy
one day...
with a husband 
who loves me
and kids who love me.
I wished so hard...

I never thought
those dandelions
were listening.


Details | Quatrain |

The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.



Details | Rhyme |

Only God Can Answer

When I was very young, 
Dad and I would fly my kite.
So one day I finally asked him, 
"how does God make wind and light?"
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there!"
I nodded, then played a while.
When we first turned sixteen, 
my best friend got a brand new car.
We had plans for Friday night, 
but Wednesday, she didn't get far.
I cried when I hung up the phone, 
"Daddy! Why my best friend?"
He came and sat down on my bed, 
as we talked about the end. 
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there."
Then I laid and cried a while.
Further down the road, 
I stood dressed up in white.
The night that I'd been waiting for, 
I'd found my Mr. Right!
I asked, "Daddy why am I so blessed?
I seem to have it all!
When some just have no luck, 
they don't have much at all."
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there."
Then he walked me down the aisle.
Then thirty years flew by.
Two jobs, Dad's cancer, and my baby.
and Daddy's time grew shorter, 
and every day became a maybe. 
Then sadly the Dr. said "its time to say goodbye "
and by his bed I stood.
I just couldn't believe it, 
that he'd be gone for good.
"Daddy why do you have to go?"
I asked him as I sobbed.
I knew it was his time, 
but still, my heart felt robbed. 
"I'll ask him when I get there..."
he told me with a smile.
"If I even care! I'll meet Jesus in a while!
I know you think that this will hurt you, 
but these days are grains of sand, 
and heaven is the Ocean!
We'll be together once again."


Details | Ballade |

GOOD THINGS ARE DUE

First trimester and you're barely a dream,
But its rapture to know that you are there!
Appointments are made, is all as it seems? 
My moods swing, crest than fall, joy to despair,
Then I sit and pray in my rocking chair,
Sweet gift of life, I already love you,
But I've learned that complications aren't rare. . .
God cradles us, whispers good things are due.

Second trimester, I'm told my eyes gleam,
Finally, we feel we're able to share
The wonderful news to our stunned home team,
Those infertile years were so hard to bear.
They ask if I want pink or blue? Who cares!
I buy yellow things as my waist accrues.
If worry prods, when I wake from nightmares,
God cradles us, whispers good things are due.

Third trimester, this barge is bursting beams,
How you turn and you twist, you have such flair!
Right around midnight, I feed us ice cream,
In the nursery waits your teddy bear,
I packed both our bags; I think we're prepared,
Will I raise you to be kind, wise and true?
When questions like these run rampant and blare,
God cradles us, whispers good things are due.

At last I hold you and kiss your soft hair,
Sweet girl, here's the first lesson for you:
When days are bad and your patience wears,
God cradles us, whispers good things are due.



*For Paula Swanson's How Due You Dew Contest


Details | Dizain |

MY MIRACLE, MY ANSWERED PRAYER



Miracles are as real as bone and flesh, Our small world is full of the unexplained, In waters cold and with each hopeful breath, I prayed for a child with words unrestrained, Kneeling to waves till their tows were ingrained. The sky sympathized with burdened, dark clouds, My longings were told to rough winds, out loud, Your will be done, God, but I’ve love to give, This servant bows low, no longer too proud, To humbly ask that my dream at last live.
ABOUT THIS POEM This is completely true. After sixteen years of infertility, I ‘heard’ a voice deep inside say, “It is time.” I immediately booked a vacation for myself and my husband to Port Elgin, Ontario. It was September, and Lake Huron was cold. People no longer swam. It was a week of rain and storms. Each day I would get up, walk to the beach and swim, as locals wearing raingear would walk their dogs on the boardwalk and shake their heads at me. Each morning, I’d swim and talk to God. I’d pray to Him, tell Him I had heard Him, and that I was ready to be a mom and that if it was His will, I would be the best mother I could be. I returned home and when I took my pregnancy test two weeks later, it said positive. The picture above is NOT mine, but mirrors what greeted me each day and where I rolled with the waves and felt God’s presence. I told my husband, even before we got there, we would be making a baby. I was that certain. After sixteen years, I still believed. This truth I must speak. I am beholden to my Maker who gifted me with a precious girl. AMEN!


Details | Rhyme |

My Parents Did Their Best To Raise Me

My Parents Did Their Best To Raise Me As a child, my parents did their best to raise me. Teaching me about God, because they loved me! They taught me God’s ways,. This was their intention. They read the Bible, with an undivided attention. Each day I awoke. I was glad mom and dad where there. Especially when we gathered around the table in prayer. The many times we spent together I haven’t forgot. I’m so thankful for the Christian values taught. The values helped shape me into what I am today. And have helped keep me on “the narrow way.” I believe many of these values are being discarded. Even before many families are being started. A respect for God’s word seems to be a thing of the past. It’s no wonder many relationships don’t last. God’s principles must be our daily ambition. His love must be our rock and a TRUE foundation! We must seek his purpose and divine way of living. It’s HIS example that must be our way of giving! Giving to others kindness and love that binds us as one. Through the witness we have in Christ… His son! May God bless our hearts and homes in one accord. As we give our attention to Jesus Christ our Lord! By Jim Pemberton 10/01/11


12345