Couplet Father Poems | Couplet Poems About Father

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Details | Couplet |

My Parting Gifts


                 My Parting Gifts…

Goodbye my son, my only king.
You are my love, your name I sing. 
My wish was more to be with you,
to be with you, and see you through.
This is my fate to leave you now,
my dread was this, to tell you how.
I’m going away, place unknown. 
The way I lived was not my own.
I am going, to ease my pain.
Letting you go, is my complain.
I am with you, with morning dawn.
Kissing with breeze until it’s gone.
My parting gifts to you my son,
to live your life, the way is fun.
Surrender to, the thing you love,
what measures love, grows above.
To get knowledge to find out why;
what is this life to you and I?
Me and you both, we are oneness.
There is no fear, to feel darkness.
I am going without goodbye,
Remember me the way I fly. 


2/16/16 Haloo

For: AJ


Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016


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GRATITUDE'S FLOW

'        '''''''''    ''''''''' ''

                                                         
most times, i wander past troubled winds of  shore
when dark sighs heave upon a hazed door,
the crux of crosses seems to welcome  me
listening to whines of own stories seeking plea,
and the wings of gray clouds immerse in  cries
pausing, i carry gratitude with grace still in my eyes,


when moments are lid covered, like  mourning shawl
my senses stoop ever weary as they begin to fall,
then I hear a  chuckling of street kids spilling the day
as if hours are given by a Maker to strum and gaily play,
by  then; I hold His LIGHT, a sliver of it begins to bloom
erasing crumbs of doubt in shades of twisted gloom.




all rights reserved
            ©


" """" '''''' 

Robert Ball's Honoring the Father Contest
by: nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2011

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GONE WITH THE WIND

It’s such a windy day, what a delight Daddy says I can go and fly my kite! We head for the beach to have some fun Dashing onto the sand I run and run My kite so blue trails on the beach I wish it were in the sky out of reach Suddenly a gust of wind whisks the kite up high Soon it’s dancing in the bright blue sky I hold on to the string with all my might The breeze is strong; the kite takes flight A tail of red ribbons flutter from the kite Seeing the kite weaving is a wonderful sight My legs begin to tire and the wind drops We head for an ice cream at the shops Daddy and I have had such a lovely day If it’s windy tomorrow we’ll be back to play Contest: Oil Painting 4 & 5 Sponsor: Eve Roper Jan Allison 11~21~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


Details | Couplet |

Age doesn't come alone.

When I was a boy, my father used to say,
 Why don’t you behave, and do it right away?”
And as I started growing up, I always knew who’s who,
With him sat in the driving seat and me the child at school.
Now as time marches ever forward, as I watch my children play,
And giving them the same advice:  “stop that now and do that right away.”
The years keep on advancing, sometimes I feel so low,
Now him within his twilight  years, as his memory starts to go.
Recollection of the journey, and how it made me feel,
As he is now the passenger, and I sit behind the wheel. 


Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008

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Marble in Columns on Green

On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute

For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes

A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken

So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife

On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys

For the living, life goes on 
Tomorrow is another day

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |

Millicent

Millicent Portia Ponsonby-Smyth
Could speak fluent French by the time she was five.
By the age of just eight she was top of her class,
There wasn’t a test that she couldn’t pass.
English and maths she coped with just fine
And quantum mechanics she’d mastered by nine.
Her parents were proud, but a little concerned
That she’d never have fun if she stayed in to learn.

Her father said, “Millicent go out and play.”
“But father I’m reading so here I shall stay.”
“Being so clever is great there’s no doubt,
But once in a while you need to get out.”
She said, ”Pater, please listen I’m happy to study,
And if I go out there’s a chance I’ll get muddy.”

That very night she was taken off guard,
She discovered a sum that was simply too hard.
She stomped round her room in utter frustration,
She just couldn’t do this quadratic equation.

Gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair
She kicked out in temper at her teddy bear.
It flew through the air and bounced off the wall,
So she kicked it again before it could fall.

It bounced off her head and then off her knee
And suddenly Millicent giggled with glee.
She continued all night to kick it around.
For hours she kept it from touching the ground.
In the following weeks she practiced some more
And saved all the money she earnt from her chores.

She went to the shop, bought a ball and some boots,
And learnt how to dribble and learnt how to shoot.
Every day after school she went to the park
And practiced her football until it was dark.
She continued to study the books and the sport
And paid close attention to all she was taught.

13 years later Miss Smyth is delighted
She’s the first girl in history to play for United.

Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

Overcome Evil With Good

A loving husband, a great man of God,
Few people would dare to walk the path he trod;

Came to spread the Good news of the Bible,
Left his own country to live among tribals;

Came to serve the poor with a great vision,
A friend of lepers, he did a great mission;

His heart was full of love for the dying,
But some of the people thought he was lying;

They did not understand his message, but
They sadly thought that he was there to convert;

Two little sons, unaware of all this,
Ready to meet their dad, saw nothing amiss;

They had come to him for holidaying,
And they were going home after a meeting;

On the way, wanting a warm place to sleep,
The man and his young sons laid down in their jeep;

The silent night was startled by loud cries,
When fifty men came with evil in their eyes;

For no fault of theirs, three kind souls were killed,
For loving lost people, their own lives were stilled;

On that fateful night, evil did smother
Three men of her family, killed together;

It was the worst blow his wife ever had,
But she forgave the killers. Good conquered bad;

They were killed in a murder cold-blooded,
Brutally those three were incinerated;

The missionary work went on to thrive,       
Though Graham Staines and sons had been burnt alive.

                         -------------
                       --R           I--
                    -- U  N      L   V --
                 --- B      T  A      E ---
                STAINES AND HIS SONS
                     (_)                 (_)

--------------
5.7.16

{Graham Staines was an Australian missionary who was burnt alive in Manoharpur village (Keonjhar district, Odisha, India) on 23rd January,1999 along with his two young sons, Philip (10) and Timothy (6) by a mob of about fifty for allegedly 'converting'  the villagers to Christianity. After his death, his wife, Gladys, continued his work among the lepers until she returned to Australia in 2004. In her affidavit before the Commission on the death of her husband and two sons, Gladys Staines stated: 

"The Lord God is always with me to guide me and help me to try to accomplish the work of Graham, but I sometimes wonder why Graham was killed and also what made his assassins to behave in such a brutal manner on the night of 22nd/23rd January 1999. It is far from my mind to punish the persons who were responsible for the death of my husband Graham and my two children. But it is my desire and hope that they would repent and would be reformed."}

Copyright © Jo Daniel | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |

Battling Addiction

Give me vodka, give me rum
I love the feeling of being numb
Give me a glass of Hennessy
I don’t care, just give it all to me
Everything is getting blurry
Why am I so filled with fury?
Alcohol all day and night
The only thing that feels all right
Can’t live without a single sip
I need the taste right on my lip
I killed myself with a dreadful thought
I’m the thing I cursed and fought
Mirror told me all the truth
I saw myself, I saw my youth
I’m filled with sorrow, I’m driven mad
I am just like my dreadful dad
Can I stop it? I don’t know
Addiction throws me back and fro
Alcohol is my fire of lust
Burning me as if it must
Killing my innards, destroying my mind
All because life wasn’t kind
Trapping myself, now I want to break free
Could somebody ever rescue me?
I need to escape; escape this obsession
The hardest thing is fighting addiction
Stuck on a battlefield, this is a war
I’m falling apart; revealing the scars
Alcohol, deadly love, dark passion
I’m crying, raging and battling addiction
 

Copyright © Julie Alcin | Year Posted 2013

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Steal The Show

As I looked upon my Daughter Michaela it was clear to see
Two big beautiful blue eyes were looking back at me 

When I got home from Prison and she was 5 days old
Speaking of holding the warm after absorbing the cold

The happiness of childhood was looking up to see
A little bundle of love that was looking inside of me

She would lie upon my chest and then she would fall out
I think safety in her daddy’s arms is what that was all about

She had a beautiful smile as well as a beautiful glow
As I looked at every tiny finger and every little toe

Then when she opened up her eyes everybody knew
“Just take a look at those blue eyes she looks just like you”

No ones knows where life may lead but I know in my heart 
Made my end then started again so this baby would have a start

From the darkest night to the brightest light I can help her Soul
Perhaps in the overall scheme of things that always was my goal

I don’t think things are ever quite that easy, only thing I know
When it comes to beautiful babies, my little girl steals the show

------------------------------------------------------------------
Written for the Beautiful Babies Contest.

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

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The Spirital Womb

The tragedy of a Miracle started today
Our Lord’s brutalized body passed away 

Of all the tragedies in the history of man
This is one I try to grasp, but never can

For some reason I find it impossible to see
We crucified the greatest man in our history

Through all of the gain and all of the loss
It was a predestined coin man had to toss

I wonder how Pilot must have felt that day
He washed cowards hands in a cowardly way

Beaten and tortured, his skin ripped to shreds
As a thorny crown dug holes into Jesus’ head

While nailed to the cross he had one final goal
Through the mercy of love he saved another soul

He saved that soul and then our Lord Jesus died
Can you imagine the countless tears that were cried?

As we all know Jesus' body was placed into a tomb
To my minds eye it was no less than a spiritual womb 

And from inside that womb salvation was born
For the tomb was found empty come Sunday morn

This is not how the story ends it is only how it starts
The Lord now lives up inside each one of our hearts

Even those lost in Prison, the ones like I used to be
Can turn to the Lord and then they will be set free

Freedom is a thing that I think we all strive to find
It is etched in our heart and engraved in our mind

I was locked up in a cell nestled tightly away
Facing several years that I would have to pay

Up inside of that cell I made my own decree
A true miracle was taking place inside of me

I was a very evil man and I was so proud to show it
In the wink of an eye I was transformed into a Poet

I learned there is only one way to truly be free
Ask of the Lord, “ Jesus please come unto me”

And just as the Lord Jesus Christ rose up out of his tomb
We can all live with-in the comfort of his spiritual womb




Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

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Birth Of A Child

A woman shattered the night, with her agonizing scream
Sacrificing her might has dawned realization of a dream.

She has given me a wonderful heir, to bear my name
And left her sweet memories, for the spirits not wane.

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006

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Trust

God has a plan,
And it is out of my hands.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

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Nature's Single Dads - The Leafy Sea Dragon

Nature’s Single Dad’s
THE LEAFY SEA DRAGON

Gracefully swaying without need for speed 
Are creatures of beauty, disguised as seaweed.
Up to twelve inches long from tail to snout
These delicate creatures just drift about.

They carry, as they move like galleons in sail, 
Silk-like appendages, leafy and pale
On back spines, projecting as masts on a ship
Sailing the oceans, they rise and they dip,

To the rhythm of moon tides; full or neap,
They travel the seas; these Dragons of the Deep.
Through weed-covered reefs and meadows of sea grass
There’s neither a neigh nor a moo as they pass.
 
They resemble sea horses in flowing silk gowns
Drifting on rhythms, dancing up and then down.
They slow dance through the water just moving around 
No fire, no flames from these dragons; not a sound. 

The mother will lay two hundred eggs on Dad’s patch 
Of soft sponge, where safely they’ll hatch.
The sun flashes golden as she drifts on by,
While in the shadow on his tail, his offspring lie.

This single Dad of the deep tends a new generation,
Of Leafy Sea Dragon eggs; a fascinating creation. 
Less than one inch when first hatched from the eggs
As newly formed babies; ready for life without legs.

They drift as if they feed, gaining the silky covered bone
To a length of twelve inches by the time they’re full grown. 
The cycles of the moon dictate the rhythms and motion
Of this Leafy Sea Dragon in the great Southern Ocean.


The Leafy Sea Dragon is just one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species.

Copyright © J Eliza JAMES | Year Posted 2012

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Letter To A War Widow

With warmest regards and the saddest lament
I write this small note with the best of intent

The newspaper’s account of your husband’s death
Made me feel as if I was short of breath

As the son of a Veteran who twice went to war
I’ve often wondered, what my life would have had in store

If my father had not returned home one day
And I had to share my grief on public display

I was not born the first time he went away
And was just ten when he left again, somehow feeling betrayed

I didn’t quite understand why he had to leave
It took a while to learn not to grieve

I read that you have two little boys, just six and eight
I can’t imagine what you say to make their restless dreams abate

My mind used to play out my greatest fear
Misplacing his last tape recording, saying his coming home date was near

On return tapes to him, I played guitar and talked too
Trying to make him feel like he was home, even if untrue

I write this note to help me remember
That even though my father returned in December

Many that go off to war, do not
And sons, daughters, spouses and families are caught

In a process of grieving that abates only with time
It takes as long as it does, there is no magical chime  

To help you and your sons with your journey that I feared most
Enclosed is a contribution to their foundation host

Not at all a fair trade, just to help provide for their well being 
I know you remind them that their father’s love is all seeing

Copyright © Shawn Sackman | Year Posted 2009

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If Only We Had More Time

I’d have whispered “you're daddy's little boy,”
snuggled in my arms, filling me with joy.
We'd of explored mountain caves, parks and glades,
snapping pictures when you first stood on blades.
And we'd have gazed up at the stars above,
feeling secure in the bond of our love.
And together we'd have journeyed the earth,
embracing the miracle of your birth.

If only we had more time...

I would have told you of the golden rule,
teaching subtle lessens, not taught in school.
And during your early, formative years,
I would've eased your hurts, and wiped your tears.
You'd have entered your teens chasing your dreams,
standing defiant in your torn blue jeans.
And we would have discussed the birds and bees,
learning about life, as we skinned our knees.

If only we had more time...

My heart would have filled with a father's pride,
as you knelt at the altar with your bride.
Gentle tears saved to bless your wedding day,
are unable to wash my grief away.
Less than a year among those who love you, 
we’re gathered today to wish you adieu. 
I think of the many things we'd have done,
and how very much I love you my son.

If only we had more time...

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016

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The Old Salt And His Sweet Dream

Forth he went upon the sea
grizzled and tough as he could be.

But when the old salt came to shore
he'd look for Jenny Lynn some more.

She was lost from him for years;
he'd shed a bucket of bitter tears.

Dreaming of the day they'd meet
the old man had a heart so sweet.

Someday he would find his daughter.
Till then he'd spend life on the water.


for "Sweet and Salty" contest

Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2013

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I Am a Reflection of the Creator's Hand

So many things I want to say,
Knowing many who have gone astray,
So many castles build on sand,
But mines, is a solid rock, on which I stand,
So many forgotten little sheep	
They have drowned in pools too deep,
So many questions that cause demands,
But mine, rest in the fathers hands.

We can shake our hands to the sky,
Beg for answers and scream our cries
We can let bitterness come between,
Curse others, fight and scream,
But when we lay it at his feet,
The holy fire causes all troubles to become obsolete
Learn to listen and then you will understand,
That we were made to be more than just human,
We are reflections of the creator’s infinite plan.

So many give up when they fall,
But God is greater than it all,
So many children run our streets,
Because they don’t know a love that is complete
So many trials cause despair,
And many tears plead its unfair,
But when you realize this is the master’s land
And that the finally is ABSOLUTLY grand,
You turn away from what they say
And allow the FATHER to lead the way.

We can shake our hands to the sky
Beg for answers and scream our cries,
We can let bitterness come between,
Curse others, fight and scream
But when we lay it at his feet
The holy fire causes all troubles to become obsolete
Learn to listen and then you will understand
That we were made to be more than just human
We are reflections of the creator’s infinite plan

Read His word and you will understand.

By: Sabina Nicole
Written: Father’s Day 2012

Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Dam Change

“Dam Change”
Dam change.
Mother and father love their plain ponytails and Lionel trains.
Then infancy crawls to scrap knees, tea parties. And headphone blast fast tones accompanied, by the arrogances of “me”.
Old Lionel trains sleep and ponytails worn plain train to feed or seek maternity.
Then mother and father love their plain ponytails and Lionel trains.
How I hate change.

Copyright © Michael Hawk Moore | Year Posted 2014

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The Struggle

This struggle he has, is oh so real...
Not given s fair shake,
Handed a raw deal.

Mistreated, lied upon, and constantly abused.
No wonder, he's angry, and sometimes confused.

Unable to trust, and let down his guard,
Being a black man, must be oh, so hard.

Constantly having to validate his worth,
That beautiful black skin, must seem like a curse.

And though I love him, as only a black woman can,
I must admit, I don't always understand, 
The pressures, the hardships and struggles of the black man.

But through his struggles, he is my king,
And for his love, I wouldn't trade a thing!

He settles my uneasiness, and he holds my hand,
He picks me up, when I'm unable to stand.

He comforts me, when my heart is torn,
Renews my confidence when it is worn,

A role model and father, he will always be,
For the little ones that grow inside of me.

Life's struggles are just a test,
The black man's no quitter,
He gives the fight his best.

Although you struggle, 
your resilience will make great.
One day you will be on top, black man...
This is your undeniable fate!

Copyright © Bonita Mercado | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |

Little Children

Oh, what a joy little children are ! Juice in the video, sick in the car. Untidy bedroom, scattered toys, girls playing nurses with little boys. Dogs' tails being pulled, a cat's on fire, interrupting the moments of love and desire. Passing the blame for their little crimes, playing with frogs all covered in slime. Screaming their heads off in a plush restaurant, having a tantrum when refused what they want. Arriving home late covered in mud, not going to bed when they know they should. Non-stop talking while dad's watching telly, splashing the walls with ice-cream and jelly. Chocolate stains on their Sunday best, painting funny pictures on granddad's vest. Why do parents' voices echo from afar, Oh, what a joy little children are !

Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2012

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Dad Never Knew His Father

Dad never knew his father.  That soldier died in a war.
All Dad heard was brief stories of the man that went before.
Grandma had some pictures and some medals on a wall.
But Dad never knew his father which was what mattered most of all

I’ve done some family history, and seen the ship’s manifest.
I’ve heard again the story of the good ship Lafayette--
How Grandma and her children searched the waves for periscopes,
Knowing that one torpedo could blow away all of their hopes.

This could have been in any war.  Soldiers die and families flee.
But this was the family story that was handed down to me.
It started in old England, then to an immigration line:
A 3-year-old at Ellis Island, in July 1939.

They fled their burning country, to be called “war refugees”.
With help from an old uncle and a kind community,
Grandma made a new start here in the land of liberty.
They learned that Grandpa was killed in ‘44 in Italy.

I found online the letter, that my Grandma didn’t see,
About how the Sergeant-Major’s infantry company
Was caught out in the open by Wehrmacht artillery.
The letter said he didn’t suffer.  Was he really killed instantly?

I never knew my Grandpa, though I was named after him.
Though I served a different flag, I was a soldier like him.
I’ve seen my father’s scrapbook, and Grandpa’s medals on the wall.
But I never knew my Grandpa which was what mattered most of all.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |

You are My Romeo and I am Your Juliet

When we we’re young we we’re deeply in love
My daddy said no but cupid was watching us from above
And they we’re never going to let us fall apart
No matter how much my father wanted you to depart
And as he tried to separate us we fell in love even more
We’re not going to worry because we’ve been through this before
I remember when you were throwing pebbles on my window
And my father just wanted you to go
But I was begging you to stay
I looked for you when I thought you went away
Romeo, Romeo where art thou
They’re trying to tell me how I feel; I need you now
I was starting to feel like if I’m lonely
But you were never gone, you’re always beside me
He pressured us so much that we both died
But in this life our love is revived
And now we have time to do all things we wanted to
I was meant to forever love you
Because you’re my Romeo and I’m your Juliet
And we knew it the first day we met
We’ll be together even if we have to run away
If I ever go a day without you everything would be black and gray
This is our love fairy-tale
Our love is real so it will never fail

Copyright © Julie Alcin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

Home

I can hear the horses snorting, outside my bedroom window,
Even though it comes, from so many years ago;

Cotton from the cottonwoods flying through the air,
Making whitened dapples on my palomino mare;

The hounds are all out baying, it must be dinner time;
In my tiny little neighborhood, I was never scared of crime;

Family surrounded me, aunts and uncles all around,
It was quiet on our little street, no sirens made a sound;

My cousins and I would play outlaws, and we’d hide out for a day;
Making mighty forts from the fifty tons of hay;

It never really changed much, as I grew up through the years,
And remembering that it’s gone, always brings me close to tears.


(My Parents sold the house I grew up in last year - It still breaks my heart)

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

Just One More Day

Dad Revisited

RIP 1924-2015


Last night I sat up in bed and prayed a little longer,
I asked god to send dad back for just one more  day with great fervour.

Dad was waiting for me in the verandah as soon as I reached,
Seated on his cane chair with legs outstretched.

Suited- booted, neat crisp turban, expectant eyes so tender
The same tweed coat, the warm muffler across his shoulder.

The moment he saw me he fumbled for his walking stick,
Stood up took a few steps forward in a nick.

We embraced each other tight as he planted as kiss on my head,
I nuzzled against his warm coat enjoying the love of my figurehead.

Warm drops of love fell on my cheeks,
Saw oceans pouring through his teary creeks.

'I can't control them', he said chokingly, 
Feeling the other's heart beats we clung to each other tightly.

'Let's go to the garden, the grape fruit is waiting for you!'
We walked together slowly over his leafy garden dew.

Dad showed me the new cuttings and saplings he had potted for me,
He pointed to the overgrown grass and said his workers were on leave.

He said,' Ah, for more varieties of flowers!
But the dogs don't spare them in my bowers'.

We smiled and saw the overladen grape fruit trees,
I plucked three grapefruits and said they would suffice with a tease.

We slowly climbed up the steps to our sunny verandah to sit alone,
He asked me what was it that I had wanted to tell him over the phone.

I read out my poem, '13, West Macott Road', a nostalgia shakeup, 
Of our ancestral home in Poona where he had grown up.

I was reared up there, too, by my grandparents,
He wept and hugged each other, our undying love evident.

'I can't believe you had this talent and I didn't know about it till now,
You always make me cry with your emotions, but no more will I allow!'

He took out his kerchief to wipe my tears, his permanent flair,
I was still sniffing when I sighted his empty cane chair.



December 10, 2015
Contest: Just One More Day
Sponsor: Laura Loo

Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Just One More Day

Just One More Day

Just one more day, now, for you see,
I was scarcely four years when you suddenly left me.

One more day back then, or even one week
Would mean very little since my memory's weak.

I barely remember that morning I saw
Mommy dragging your body down our long hall.

And everyone crying and expecting me to,
But how could I really! I didn't know you!

I was the girl whose daddy had died.
But when I cried tears, with each drop I lied.

Just one more day, with both of us grown.
So I could discover whence my seed was sown.

Just one more day, to dance my first dance
To teach me to drive, to preach of romance.

Please one more day to show you I've tried
To become a grown woman that might give a dad pride.

Mom tried her best, but I long to know you
Just one more day, daddy, please, for us two.

My daughters have had the best father on earth
But I wonder if I did at the time of my birth.

Just one more day, daddy, I can't wait to meet
The man who gave me this smile, these feet.

You've rested in heaven for 50 years now
Share just one day, you can do It somehow.

That this girl's heart still breaks is alarming
But she'll wait just one more day to meet her Prince Charming.

And if one more day takes longer than thought,
We'll still get the time for which I have fought.

Because when my time comes to part from this place,
I look forward to once again seeing your face.

Just one more day in the blink of an eye
My daddy and me, at the Ball in the sky.

12/6/2015

Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

Mr Wonderful

A broken promise, demoralized man who is incapable of being true, 	
A thoughtless coward, oblivious clown, this is what I think of you,

A woeful chicken, a runaway guy is how you're now portrayed,
A selfish critter, a prideful morsel is the reputation you have made,

When flesh spoils in a slaughter house the smell of you comes to mind,
For your manipulation has made you completely colorblind,

In your mothers soil you were the bad seed,
As you grew up we realized you were just a weed,

A fragmentation, with no revelation is who you really are,
A scab that stopped healing, the beggar who keeps on stealing, now just another scar,

A predicable cycle, a sick little mess, a hidden agenda that isn’t well dressed,
A miserable liar, disposable fool, too bad you weren’t like an infertile mule,

Just like a wolf, you would consume your own,
For apparently humanity was something you were never shown,

Just like wild animals that abandon their first litter,
You fit right in, you unoriginal quitter.

By: Sabina Nicole
Written:9/29/11
Contest:Angry

Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2011

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Brightest Star

Just like the number, twenty nine, I was in my prime
A rowdy reprobate at large whose life had no design

Then one day, the blue sky fell and landed on my heart
A star was born and spared my life picked up the broken parts

She tied me to her finger where she wore me like a ring
Then took control and played me like a puppet on a string

I entertained and danced for her she grew and laughed out loud
And every time she called me dad I danced from cloud to cloud

My darkest day my star took off, bright shooting star to roam
She kept my heart but left some dreams for me to call my own

Sometimes sad melancholy visits me which irritates my scar
I simply walk out on my porch and dream among the stars.




     An original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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Fathers

Fathers                                                                             

Forever loyal, even when it hurts
An actively engaged player; not a spectator

Teaches with his life; not mere words
Highly regarded, honored, and respected

Earns his strips the old fashion way. Work.
Reasonable, tolerant, and understanding

One who would marry a dear lady with a young child not his own,
Becoming her step father, and treating her no different than his own.

He also takes in his new wife’s mother and makes her a part of one family.
He instills the value of relatives and being connected to them.

One who teaches his kids simple things, like how to tie shoes;                     
And dutifully reminds them to keep those shoes clean.

He’s one who builds ‘a swing set’ for his kids and their friends.
He teaches his kids how to drive, even stick shifts.

He shows them how to be self sufficient and independent; encouraging        them to face people and make sales from his vegetable garden.

He allows them to own a puppy; and helps them bury their dog                       in the front yard after he is killed by a very mean man.

Sometimes misunderstood, but stays the course perceived right and proper.
He’s one who is unafraid of taking on greater responsibilities.

He’s one who regularly takes his kids with him in his truck;
And he makes all of his kids proud to be his dear children
05252016 cj PS Contest, A Father Is, by Brenda Chiri-Carrol

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

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A Prayer For My Wife And Her Soldier

Oh Father I give to you my wife who gave her son,
he is one of two, the other life never really begun.

She held him as baby and made his lunch as a boy,
through strife and struggle he still is her pride and joy.

She loves him more than she ever said,
but each and everyday she tucked him into bed.

Watch over him father as he left to serve with much pride,
but please be with my wife who is struggling deep inside.

She taught him well and this will serve as a strong foundation,
but he needs you to perform the duties requested by this nation.

Give him the strength he needs for the tasks set before him,
for my wife awaits to hold him and see him laugh again.

This I humble pray as her husband...

Edward J Ebbs - Winter 2007

Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2011

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My wonderful father

When I was sad I melted into his cool embrace
He reached down and kissed my tear streaked face.

He was there when the kids at school said I was ugly
He scooped me up and said I was lovely

He took me to the shop and we ate ice cream
He had a chocolate and I cookies in cream

He said he loved my smile best of all
And liked that for my age I was rather small

Then one day I was by his hospital bed
Holding his hand and kissing his head

Mamma had gone to Heaven so free
And that is where he wanted to be

He said that he loved me one last time
That was his way of saying goodbye.

Now when my children hug my husband dear
My father’s words I nearly hear

“I may be above you,
But I still love you,”

Copyright © Hannah Corey | Year Posted 2015