Poetry Dad Poems

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

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Details | Light Poetry |
A little grey mouse snuck into the house to get himself out of the cold. Then the house cat Who saw where he sat pursued him I am told. The lazy old dog who sleeps like log was startled by the chase, So she woke up her own small pup and they joined in the race. My sister the baby decided that maybe she would give it a try, She started a spat And was scratched by the cat and then she started to cry. That’s when mom called to Uncle Tom to come and lend a hand, With a straw broom mom circled the room knocking plants from off a stand. In came my dad and he was quite mad because the house was in disarray He was vexed with what happened next But it happened just this way. Our two brave bowsers chased the mouse up dad’s trousers He thought he’d be safe in there. Until Dad started to dance with the mouse in his pants Then he jumped up on a kitchen chair. Mom smacked dad’s seat and then came a repeat And the mouse climbed out of his pocket. Unseen by all he started to crawl into the wall through an open socket. Later that night, With no one in sight, I put out a nut for the little mouse. I had no hate toward him, And I tried to reward him. Even if he was trapped inside our house. I told him my name, And he did the same, Then he stuffed the nut into his cheeks. He said thanks for the food, And I don’t mean to be rude, But that was the most fun that I’ve had in weeks.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011




Details | Quintain (English) |
If he were my Dad, he would be the best.
A distinguished Chef that taught me to cook.
An ever loving Heart, beats in his chest.
His spare time , he writes a Poetry book.
When its done; as a Poetry Family; We should all take a look.
.
I have a distinct advantage, in the Culinary Arts.
“Dad” was a self made Chef : Loved by Culinary : ALL.
You have an distinct advantage, with your Ever Loving Hearts.
We climb the stairs of Poetry; to the Poet Laureate’s Hall.
We spend half of Eternity, reading Poems upon the wall.

He's a teacher, a Chef, a poet; a husband that Loves his Wife.
Allthough she now lives in Heaven, as she has for forty years.
His heart has found someone new; that has given him new life.
Barbara Jean, whom I call Mom; has dried up past forlorn tears. 
He is a man deeply in love with everyone he knows, he loves all his peers.

This is a Quintain I wrote for Francine Roberts Contest "  English Quintain Contest
Dedicated to "Dad  and Mom" Harry D. Johnson aka Harry, HG, Liege and Barbara Jean
Gorlick aka BG, Mom I wrote this Dec. 3 I added the third stanza today Dec. 14

Copyright © Kenny A Fledgling Poet | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
Have you ever squeezed a lemon before?
(you very might well have and just not realized it).
Each time you grab the steering wheel, you feel determined:
There's no way in hell you're waiting another minute!

A lemon is sure a close call,
and anyone's capable of it - every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Sometimes you don't see it at all,
until you look up and realize it's already turned cherry.

It's a rarer site to see someone squeezing that one,
but there's no doubt it happens now and then.
Some call it stupid, others brave and daring.
Me? I just wanna get out of the car and grab a pen.

Squeezing a lime sounds much more safe.
Feeling a bit less brave, a small price to pay,
for living another glorious day.
But my dad is a different sort all together.
He goes through the entire fruit smoothie, it's just his way.

There'll be honking from behind,
people yelling, "What are you friggin' color blind?
Get off the Bluetooth, man!".
And I'm just sitting in the front seat thinking,
"I have such great writing material, so close at hand".

I'll have my head crouched low
feigning embarrassment, but in reality
this man, driving me, where I need to go
is the spitting image of myself
forty years down the road...

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013




Details | Quatrain |
My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong. 
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.

My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.

Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.

It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic. 
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.

In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.

Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.

Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?

Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.

Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.

The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.

Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.

That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.

When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.

I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.

© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest:  My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry 
Sponsor	Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
With the dawning of the day
like a fertile vine
which creeps amidst
the purple hue
of Tuscan fields
I yield my fruit
Before first autumn rain
I wait for you
Starved like a harvest moon
you come to me
Silk honey of dusk
A shadow,descending
in the cradle of my arms
feeding nectar from my lips
repeaning my soul
with  blazing fire
amuzing my solitude
On scarlet foliage-your kiss
In sleep your breath within me
~Dolce Vino~
Your fingers on my neck's nape
~Viola in concerto~

In sleep,once again in sleep
where eyelids close
to the bliss  of twilight dew
I see you

Dedicated to a great dad to our newborn...my husband

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Yup, just like this. This is how dad told us about the wonders of life. No eye contact at all.

One day my father told his four sons to climb into the car,
He wouldn’t tell us where we were going just that it wasn’t far.

I sat in the front next to dad the other three sat in back,
Boys it’s time we had a talk about a subject that you lack.

I want to talk to the four of you about something that’s called sex,
Collectively we held our breath because of the horror that came next.

I am sure that you have started to notice there’s a difference in girls,
Their bodies are soft, curvy and round and their hair looks good in curls.

I promised that I had taken some notice, there was no need for him to fear,
Because I was now sixteen years old and had been dating for over a year.

Then this talk is for the benefit of the younger ones in the back,
Be helpful and sit quietly and don’t give me anymore of your flack.

This trip in the car with him was the longest that could ever be,
Then he asked, “Can you define ridged for your brothers and me?”

The only thing that I could imagine worse than his talk selection,
Was when he extended his left arm in order to demonstrate an erection.

It hung flaccid out the window but slowly it started to rise,
Until it pointed straight to the left, a stiff arm, hard on prize.

Out the window the visual aid of my dad’s left arm boner,
Made the guy behind us think that we were turning at each corner.

As we returned to home dad said that mom had found some books,
They had information with helpful pictures and we should take a look.

From this whole experience there was something for me to learn,
Sometimes I’ll turn to my wife at night and signal for a turn.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
The young man worked quietly
His Dad had been away,
But he was full of emotion
His Dad would return today.

He had carved the wood with perfection
His Dad would be so pleased,
His Mom helped him gather daisies
In the warm September breeze.

The limousine pulled in the drive
The boy saluted the men,
They handed him his country's flag
He felt his heart would never mend.

The velvet box passed to his Mom
As they bowed their heads to pray,
Thankyou for our soldiers
At home, and far away.

That young boy is a man today
And he still feels his loss,
As he watches his son pick daisies
To lay beneath the cross.


Lynn Barany

Copyright © lynn Hanna Barany | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Dad, how much I loved you
You did not give me time to tell;
So quick was your way to depart
That sorrow and grief
That came my way
Are yet to breathe their last.

You knew how to play with me
Whenever I fell short of friends;
You knew how to never impose on me
Anything that I disliked;
You knew to take me out of punishment
The moment I had shed tears.

You knew to make me 
Holy and intelligent
By the examples you did set;
You knew to give me time 
Even if it was in short supply;
You knew to motivate me
By the inspiring deeds you did.

You knew to take interest in things
That were close to my heart;
You knew to show happiness
At each and every success,
That came my way in school.

Humble and generous you were
As none I have ever known;
The more I have dug deep
To unravel you,
With the brushes of my heart,
The higher have you grown
In my love and esteem.

Behind your gentle eyes
There was ever this much warmth
That knew to melt away
All traces of unhappiness
Clinging onto me
In my hours of despair,
And declare the spring of love and friendship
Even with all the ice strewn around.

Yet, you knew not to show me
Your pain and discomfort
As you plunged deep 
Into the woes of health
And breathed your last; 
My head bends to the Almighty
To have had been fathered
By a soul like you.
 

Copyright © Pramod Rastogi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |
We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
The HR person called me in… I was turning gray… Was he even twenty-one?
I wondered if the interview would go well, as he did fung shui the chairs around.
Offered a caramel expresso mocha late decaf, I told him I took my coffee black.
Alas my friend, it got progressively worse, this: our proverbial generational gap.

He asked me to explain, how I’d be the best personnel fit, for this illustrious job.
Ah! Experience I had in abounds, as I pulled out a 100-page resume, neatly bound.
That question, had me off and running, but I knew, I was in some trouble when…
I saw his eyes glaze over, and he ask me, ‘Have we made it into space yet?’

He smirked, when he ask, about ‘Recent’ applicable education, in the last 5 years.
I condensed my course certifications till he nearly fell off, his crazy chair, my dear!
He ask the projects worked on, unfortunately, all were government secret classified. 
So I added some of the numerous skills, that had been applied, till he almost cried.

I started with the job descriptions, but he didn’t like… that the names were so long.
And the abbreviations normally used, in this line of work, almost blew his mind.
Though I also got the feeling, he may have thought that I’d finally, lost mine, since…
My accomplishments had scads of stuff he’d never, ever, be able to comprehend...

You know, ‘things’ about the job, HR doesn’t care about or bother to be clued in.
Luckily all was saved, before the interviewers’ jaw, hit the floor around his chair.
Using a power point presentation, illustrations appeared, giving him a better clue.
I even gave him a burned DVD, set to the music of  ‘Live Free or Die Hard’, too.

He ask about items, he’d never heard of, you know, from way before he was born.
But got the feeling he’d be more attentive, talking about a computer game going on.
I didn’t lie about a thing, it’s not my fault some Companies are now closed down!
But I felt things were somewhat a success, as security finally came to lead me out…

Unfortunately, in the end, they hired a young one, and I couldn’t understand why.
He was a quiet, little, studious kid, who didn’t say a thing, but had stars in his eyes.
He didn’t understand any of the work involved, but his pay would be next to none.
But that's whom they got: until that company closed for work that couldn’t be done.

All because the HR Department didn't help them get the workers they did need.
I became self-employed, developing computer games, all the rage! Oh So Sweet!
Yes, I became a millionaire, with my own company, without HR, anywhere seen!
Now, we develop rockets to go into space, where I felt, that HR person should be.

Dedicated to all those Middle aged people stressed out after looking for a job.
Wife and Hubby Collaboration

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Otay! I’m an alien, toe what?
I used to wive on the pwanet Pwuto
Too told! TOE, I fwew to the moon
BOOOW-ING! (Eveeting too white!)
Toe I fwuttered down to Waw Tageles
Where I betame a BIG movie tar

Dey trew a party for my pwemier
but a bwack fuwwy fewine cwashed it!
Yep, I taw dat puddy-tat teak in too
Den he tunned me wit his tun gun!
Wucky for me, I dot away tumhow 
Now I got dis widdle speech intetiment…

PS: Ewmer Fudd and me have become wather cwose since then because he had a 
similar expewience when Bugs Bunny conked him on the head with an oversized 
cawwot...

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |
Last Dance
It was a beautiful day A day of celebration, a day of thrill It was the day of my sister’s 18th birthday The most waited day of a girl to be a lady and I? I was a girl that time and all I have to do is to Observe and cooperate And it was our most anticipated moment To witness that celebration and to witness our dear father as the first dance of my sister who was missing us for many years because of separation. Yet we didn’t know that, that would be the first and very last day of the year that we’ll see him His body was so thin His face looks sickly and heartbreaking He looks so different But he remained calm and at ease Michael Gan the first rose, He stands and overwhelmingly danced for my sister They turned and sway They dance like it was the last He was overjoyed Filled with different emotions Happy, touched, sad, missing us, and regretting His heart jumped over him He tries to catch his breath touching his own chest We hasten him to the nearest sickbay To salvage his life His precious life, my father Battling from death, loses his fight His eyes wide open, no air No movements, no smile because... It was his last dance

Copyright © Ana Mae Gan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’

“Oh No”

‘But Why?’

“They’re scummy things
They’re Rats with wings
They’re vermin of the sky”

‘That can’t be right Dad’

“It is”

‘How So?’

“They pilfer seed
They breed at speed
And harbour disease you know”

‘Are you sure dad’

“Oh Yes”

‘Since when?’

“Since the Rock Pigeon flew
And ended up in a stew
Since their domestication by men”

‘But I like Pigeons Dad’

“I know
You do”

‘I like how they sing
I like the shape of their wing
So you should like them too’

“But I don’t like Pigeons Son.
Not now.
Not ever.
Their walk is bizarre,
They crap on my car
And they’re really not that clever”

'But Daaaad…

...they wake me in the morning,
With their delightful coo,
Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue.
They look good in the garden Dad
They don’t make such a mess
Do you like Pigeons Dad?’

…“Yes”



[This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]

Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
It was early one morning, when you arrived..
You entered the restaurant and I noticed your stride..
Your manner of dress was quite elegant.. and ..
It appeared you were having breakfast...
With a very important guest..
Seated at the table, and I couldn’t help but notice,
The strange thing you did , when you removed from your purse..  
An old and tattered faded hat..
You took it lovingly in your hands and..
Proceeded to give it a kiss..
As you placed it across from where you sat...
I knew it belonged to someone you missed..
Then you did something strange...
You did a smile and a wink.. 
Poured two cups and I began to think....
Perhaps the car was being parked,
And soon your friend would join you..
As I sat and watched you seemed to be...
Engrossed in a conversation...
The twinkle in your eyes and the smile on your face..
Sent the message you were in a happy place...
Then you got out of your chair...and hugged the air..
And left the same way you came...but ..
I heard you say as you walked away..
Same time..same place next year ?



Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Happy Fathers Day Big Fat Father!


Happy fathers day big fat Dad
I forgot to get you a card but don’t be sad
Its not that I forgot, more that I got distracted
You know what it’s like when you’re mean and tight-fisted

I said to myself as I left the house,
I’ll get him a card but I will use my nouse,
What would dad do, let me see
I know, he’d try and get a card for 20p

But when I got to the blasted shop,
Wide eyed and in amazement I had to stop,
For you see the cards were very expensive
Something I knew you would find offensive,

So after spending my money on myself,
I decided to give you something of far greater wealth,
I know, I thought, I will make him a card,
All sentimental a real colourful work of art!

But then it occurred to me while I was trying to be kind,
You wouldn’t appreciate it because your colour blind,
Not only that (and this broke my heart),
You wouldn’t understand it, being a silly old fart.

So after thinking and pondering all of the night
I didn’t know what to do, try as I might,
I was starting to worry and with seconds to spare
I wrote you this crap poem and I don’t even care!

Copyright © Steve Humphries Artist | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
THE DIVORCE
Your stinging absence from us dad
Has for us kids been very bad
Coping with our fatherly loss
Has really been, nothing to floss
Picking all the pieces broken 
‘Cause the children you have forsaken
All just trying in our own way
To make it to a better day.

Joy tries to keep it inside
All that sadness she tries to hide
Relying on parties, so much beer
Her false happiness is very clear
Strange boys coming in and out
Enough! I really want to shout
Trying not to face the rap
That you left a very big gap.

Jamie tries to change his looks
Hiding always in his books
Tattoos, piercings, dyed his hair
Darkened room is now his lair
Football player he is no more
 All those posters he just tore
Trying hard to bury his hurt
 It’s just turning him into a nut.

Little Zoe just withdrew
She really loved you, thought you knew
Pretending that she’s not visible
Her healing sadly is not feasible
Whispering to imaginary friend
Wetting the bed, her new trend
Trying really not to cry
Your departure struggling to justify.

For me it’s been so much worse
Although I really hate to make a fuss
Trying so hard to keep happy face
As first-born boy to take your place
Helping mum to be all strong
But knowing this is all so wrong!
Praying this sadness is just a tide
Soon you’ll be back here by our side.



Copyright © LUCY WANGARI | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
1
You may feel down,
Feeling like giving up
But you must rise forth,
And continue to move forward
Move in faith towards your purpose;
It may feel painful now
But your purpose is being;
Formed through your pains
You shall soon see it was;
Worth it.

Copyright © Phillimon Sefake | Year Posted 2014

Details | Monorhyme |
His sins are heavy/
He stood there silent/ 
Sweat dripping down his armpit this sins r heavy/
Victims see a savior sent from heaven his sins r blurry/
His sweat tastes no salt secrets hidden behind doors glued in bolt they worship his father/
Zip down unzipped to keep his zip down and never spit zip/
He is an experiment a doormat of his Father's zip/
He weeps but nobody speaks/
His father's sins are heavy/

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
your left hand was hard, but your right, gracious putting me in the balance of Love of which its fulcrum is discipline and respect. Your weaknesses were classified just to ensure I see beyond mine Your chastisement was not without pain of which its appreciation is a strong indicator of my gradual maturity. You always guard the gates of my territory like a Centurion and fight against all antigens like a warlock. You taught me how to be complete and provided the staff and Ass as I journey across Life and appreciate. I initially thought of you differently when you gave me the partially made sandal, when you refused to help with the air-tight metal box, when you gave me bone while milk was still my best delicacy when you laughed at me while I'm confused and worst of all, stopping Mum to come to my rescue. I never knew they were task of Life I most needed, finishing off the sandal made me industrious, opening the box, made me determined and never relenting, chewing the annoying bone made me grow up; your scorn and laughter actually made me decisive and rescuing myself made me independent. All these sum up to making me a MAN! Which makes you my Hero and role model. Before I was, there was you; in fact, I am in existence because of you. I've always clinged unto you as my Life's support but you allow me make my mistakes so as to be the best gadget. Your regulation of Mum's affections only makes me be an unspoilt egg. I always increase when you sweat and your headaches are stepping stones to my zeniths. You are such an irreplaceable asset and your love, so refreshing as the evening air. What more can I say and how else can I show gratitude? As much as I know, you need none of these, One thing I must always say is, I LOVE YOU DAD!

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Let's escape to space
& Leave the human race 

Space-love a new awesomeness
Forget the life & the gloominess

Kiss me, because I care
Even thought the life is unfair

I want to be a space-lover
Love you now, tomorrow & forever

Lest Live in a house made of stars
& drive spaceship instead of cars 

We feel the space-love in moon
I'll be yours, you'll be mine so soon

Galaxy, universe, stars & limitless
Screw the world, we found happiness.

Copyright © zineb laddioui | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
One Father One Mother A bond from the heavens on the flight of a dove Unconditional love Perceived and felt first in their hearts ~ Sickness ~ Has taken daddy away With the release of a dove To be with his own parents in paradise No longer does he suffer He is sheltered in perfection from all illness, pain, and sorrow ~ I grief ~ Drowning in tears I wasn’t ready for him to leave ~ I miss ~ Looking at the man that was my hero His whispers when he’d say I love you The smell of his cologne ~ Though ~ I smile to know He still lives on in my heart His life has not ended ~ But ~ Started a new life in paradise I just would like to say I love you one more time
10/25/2015 By :Eve Roper Contest Name: Any Sad Poem - Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Broken Wings

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Fathers and Sons
A father is a hero to his little boy
The son is the world, dads pride and joy.
As the boy grows, he is sad to find,
His dad is not perfect, and to his faults he’s not blind.
Dads look around at this new man in the house,
Is there need for jealousy between him and his spouse?
This baby boy goes from boy to a half man,
The dad feel a bit threatened but does what he can.
This new birth of a man, he watches over,
He struggles with all the new things that seem to take over.
This baby boy, he can no more understand
Until his father reminds him of his own manly stand.
When he dyed his hair red, and bought cowboy boots.
From jumping canal locks, just for the hoots.
He takes stock of his memories, and looks at his son
With striped hair and rings in nose and ears - yes each one.
He pats him on the shoulder and says ‘Son I love you.’
I cannot wait for a grandson or two.
Just so you see what we dads have to go through,
So when you have sons of you own, I can help you.

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
I am 18 years old
I just found out that I spend most of my time sleeping, 
I am obsessed with it. 
I have lived for 9,460,800 minutes
Most of which I waste on sleep
Sleeping is my personal heroin,
It lets my arms as a pair of wings  to fly me  to paradise.
When I want to escape from reality,    
I shoot it up my veins.

One day, my mom was chatting with her friends, 
When they discussed my studies, 
I looked down at my shoes while their children smiled smugly.
Their smiles struck my wings like lighting
The path to my paradise began to disappear 
I thought I could use my broken wings to open their eyes 
so that they would see my true face
But this was just my imagination
I needed a hit so bad that I slept for 3 days
Feeling likes a puppet, no pain as my strings are pulled
My dream leads me into that sense again,
I looked at their lips and heard their words, proudly I say to her friends, “I am better than your child.”
When I awake, I feel my emotions flood back to me stronger than before

When I was in high school,
I worked so hard but I still couldn’t achieve a score to be proud of
When I see my father’s rough hands, I am shamed by my B Grade Paper.
Then I begin to think what I can do for him, 
I ask: “DAD! Can I go to get a part-time job?

“No, getting back to your studies!”

I prepared to take another shot of heroin
To help me pretend as if nothing happened
I used to think that sleeping would solve my ailments
    But I realized 
I realized that I am escaping
   Like boxers hide behind their gloves 
Like timid warriors escape from the battlefields

These years, I am search in for peace
But opiate feeling blinds my eyes 

Copyright © hanyue xu | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
he is alway there
always awhere
shows us love and care
this i won't to share
am so glad
i got 
MY DAD

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
My fascinating son
your divine entry in my life
was an amazing boon of God
that filled my heart
with ebullience and ravishment
you removed all darkness 
of desperation and frustration
that my hard life ever had
and brought halcyon days back
my life was imbued with
excitement and exaltation
always my eyes were eager
to have scintilla of your visage
You have always been
an effervescent star of my destiny
and became quintessential 
part of my life and
then developed a sempiternal relation
between Dad and Son
my happiness was beyond expression
to have a talismanic baby
now when you are a grown up
and matured son
I tell you one secret today
that all my troubles disappear
when I see my son smile.

(By Kishan Negi)

Copyright © KISHAN NEGI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
What a Dad Should Be.
Steve L. Siegel
July, 2015
~:~
In case you didn’t know this, 
A Dad should be always a bit radical…
He should love you even more when you’re unlovable
Hug you tighter when you’re un-huggable
And bear you most when you’re un-bearable…
~:~
Oh yes, a Dad should be the world’s most fanatic…
He should love you when the world boos you
He’d want to dance with you when you give him any good news
Know that he’ll be crying with you when you cry to…
~:~
The thing most of all a Dad should be a mathematician…
He has be able to multiply the joy, divide the sorrow,
Subtract the past; and add all of the tomorrows,
Calculate the deep needs within your heart,
Lastly always be bigger than all the sums of their parts…
~:~
P.S. To my loving daughter Tammy who together we went to AA.
Both still sober after twenty years now. We made it!

Copyright © Steven Siegel | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
they stay up
to fill the cups
sit by the christmas tree
listen and sing jinglee
its there face  light
that so bright
MOM AND DAD
ON CHRISTMAS EVA NIGHT

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Two things you don't want		9.1.15

If I appeared slightly under the weather
     or if he just wanted a little fun, 	
my dad would ask if I had
     the cholerie morbus*.
If not that
     maybe the heebie jeebies.

Neither sounded like 
     a real ailment.	
I thought he'd conjured up	
     the maladies – "Oh, Daddy."

Do you suppose he knew?

Had he read that President Zachary Taylor 
     died suddenly of cholera morbus in 1850.

Maybe he picked the term 'heebie jeebies'
     from the 1926 Louis Armstrong song of the same title.

We'll never know.
     After he asked I felt better
He made my little bouts brief.	

I think my dad, the finest of men,
     simply enjoyed the sound of 'cholerie morbus'
and 'heebie jeebies'.
     He loved to gently tease and was full of good humor.


*My dad always said "cholerie morbus", not "cholera morbus", which is "acute gastroenteritis occurring in summer and autumn and marked by severe cramps, diarrhea, and vomiting. No longer in scientific use." Sounds too awful for him to have known what it was.

Copyright © Gay Stuntzner | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
Baby when you were born
 it was a pleasurable morn
 A baby was my only dream
 you came like a lovely gleam
 In your black eyes I got lost
 climate was cold with frost
 You looked like a beaming sun
 I enjoyed with you every fun
 Emptiness was filled with joy
 as I was gifted with a cute toy
 My garden began to bloom
 before you came it was gloom
 My heart was filled with pride
 your Dad was your first guide
 It was beginning of a new relation
 between Dad and new sensation
 Tomorrow if no more is your Dad
 promise my angel will not be sad

Copyright © KISHAN NEGI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
Today was the big day! I bought a scratch-off ticket two days ago and won $25,000.00! Can
you imagine that? Me, a lonely unemployed nobody, strikes it rich. Yee-Hah! So, I'm off to the
lottery collections agency to cash in my lucky windfall. The polite gentleman handed me
the necessary forms. I feverishly completed them and within 36 minutes was awarded my
check. Wow! Me, a single, unrecognized nobody, is clutching a mild fortune. 
“Zippety-Do-Dah!” Whistling a happy tune, I venture home. Three blocks before reaching my
domicile, I spotted a young lad on the corner of Clark Street and 9th Avenue. He was
sitting on the cold concrete playing with an energetic puppy - yet, he was crying. "Hey,
kid, that's a beautiful puppy you've got." The young boy looked up at me and stammered:
"He's not my puppy, Mister. I found him here in the street a little while ago. The doggie
has no home." My heart skipped two beats. "Where do you live, son?" The tearful boy
crooked his head towards a dilapidated house two lots away from the corner of Clark
Street. I didn't think anyone lived there. I paused for a second and then:

"Hey, Mister? Do you have an extra quarter?" I was speechless for a moment. 
"Excuse me, Mister...um, do you have a dime or a quarter? I have two quarters in my pocket. 
If I get one more I can buy the puppy a can of dog food at the corner store." Containing a smile, 
I lost my breath. I regained my wits and asked: "Would your Mom and Dad approve of you 
having a puppy?" The young lad kept his head down and replied: "Well, my Dad is dead.
But I know my Mom would like this puppy. It's just that my Mom can't walk and, um...
I take care of her and, um...we really wouldn't have enough money to take 
care of a dog, anyways." My heart was breaking. "What's your name son?"
I didn't understand who's tears I was envisioning - his or mine.
"Charlie, Mister." "My name's, Charlie."

(SEE Part 2 OF THE STORY FOR THE ENDING...)

For: Carol Brown
I Hepled The Needy contest
(This is Part I of the story)

Copyright © Kory Calhoun | Year Posted 2011