Verse Daughter Poems

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

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Details | Free verse |

you were an infant
i would sing a song i created for you

'there's a baby in my arms
there's a baby in the mirror
but honey 
there's not really two
the child in the mirror
is only 
an image 
of you'

in that same vein i write this

_

you can't hide inside a mirror
it wouldn't be good for your image
if you see what i mean
take a minute to reflect on that thought
frame it as you will
raise a glass to good cheers
this isn't the time to crack
or 
feel shattered 
no 
it is the exact reverse

like skipping a rock across the smooth surface of a lake
seven skips of good luck
because you are the fairest of them all

looking back at yourself 
keeping it compact
as you duplicate your own words 
impossible to read from the other side
this echo of your vision

the epitome of a prototype replicates

ditto 

who is the quintessential hero and who is the fake

go through that rabbit hole -straight to wonderland

bedazzle -radiate -glimmer -scintillate 
deflect
the glare will define you

you have not now or have ever been a duplicate
you are and will always be the one and only
-


Oct 2 2017 - love above all else love - armand

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BONUS POEM

But Tell Me Where Do The Children Play 

you can't lie your way to the truth
what we teach our children 
should apply to us too
you took a wrong turn
check your moral compass
the needle is spinning faster
than a bottle in search of a kiss 
what would our mother think
if she knew what you were up to
you're changing everything she fought for
in her life children mattered
like the singing preacher asked
such a long time ago
'...where do the children play...'

you can argue climate change
but you can't deny the quality of the air your breathing
when did we start bottling water just to take a drink
the taps are bleeding led 
too late to fix the guts of generations who drank it with trust
how do you look at a storm in the eye
didn't you already prove your blind
or do you keep yours closed so no one can look in
look deep inside your heart 

'...tell me, where do the children play?…'

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL

Me? I Saw More.

the clown danced like a marionette 
his painted face featured a grimace
and

and a tear

me?
i saw more

i smiled
no fear here

a performer 
an amazing mime artist
a procurer of pathos

he was pulling a little red wagon
with a large orange hard ball
walking on the spot
performing 'funny'

me?
i saw more

we often have to carry more 
than we think we can handle
our shoulders grow
atlas carried the earth on his shoulder
when we think we can do no more
we do even more than we need to

i saw more
the power of one
we don't need help
we need initiative 
no brother or sister's need
is less important than our own
'give and you shall receive'

we are all more
it takes a strong child 
to raise the values of a village
i can't win unless we all win
we have tried the blame game
five thousand years later

nothing

we are being led by weak men
want bigger and bigger guns
at a time when we have enough weapons
destroy the earth hundreds of times over

money is 
has always been
evil

me?
i see more
i see you
and you 
and you

ghandi was right then
ghandi is right now

do you see

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL TOO

Firefly


i am going to touch you
like a firefly touches 
the dead of night
lights the obscurity 

i want to illuminate 
the pitch dark of your perspective 
inject a bright glow of hope
cleanse your thoughts of the negative

did you argue today 
felt regret
did the daily news invade your cheer
turned your 'in the pink' to something 'blue'

i am going to reignite  your sense of calm
wave a wand -make your heart smile 
warm your complexion to a glow
spread your goodwill worldwide

life i assure you isn't a rotting corpse
you have the strength 
rise above the doom and gloom
you are presently living

the alternative is an untimely exit
unnecessary 
i believe in laughter
and i believe in unconditional love

more
i believe when your back is against the wall
persistence will create a door
a passageway out of the muck and mire

no matter how thick the fog
it only takes a breeze
to clear a path
one you can ride to your destination of choice

Oct 2 2017- armand

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BONUS POEM THE REBOOT

Colour Me Ill 

i tried to fly today
nothing deep here
this isn't that type of poem
didn't go that well
i fell flat on my fa fa fa face
(pardon my stutter
a temporary side effect of the fa fa fa fall)

i wasn't writing any poetry
at the hospital either
all joking aside 
there was a lot of blood
did you know that doctors 
have no sense of humour

i was slurring anyways
you gotta love that morphine
they were cleaning up the blood
i said thanks dr. acula 

not even a snicker
and i'm not speaking of a chocolate bar
wasn't even my joke
stole it from Mitch Hedburg

coincidentally the doctor left me in stitches

the nurse said she was taking me for an X-ray 
i didn't really hear her but she was a knockout
something ..x 
sounded go go good to me
i was running in front of the wheelchair she was pushing
i was excited

we got somewhere 
she left
you gotta love that morphine
i must of impressed them
they thought i was a model
they took pictures of me
Bi Bi Big pictures
you should of seen the size of the negatives 
i ordered ten sets 

they pushed me outside and left
pa pa par for this course

suddenly my nurse date was back
they always come back

aanndd 
she's gone 


Oct. 2 2017- armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017




Details | Free verse |

Passing through framed windows like ours, I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends that burned your innocence at 21... and though you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted. We both searched deeply into our souls as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted to let you know, it was alright; but that mound of shoulders turned away. Down the years as officer and gentleman, Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair, leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills until you arrive under crawling dock of stars. But in free moments, how you cherished me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds, to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon. You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams... until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel. I see you through all framed windows like ours, that even if my iced breaths needed you more as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry for love’s company... “ I have adored you in moments of distance and nearness, if not always, then for all eternity.” Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh? Dad, everything is all right. Ir0nic Zink's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest Resubmitted 5/19/2017

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Daddy

Daddy, why did you go away?
Don't you know I wanted you to stay!

Daddy, when you left mom,
Don't you know you left me too?
Now all I do is cry and cry
--- I want to die!

Daddy, mommy say's it's better this way,
What does she know!
They're not enough band-aids to cover up the blues
Mom's kisses can't heal this kind of pain.

Daddy, I look around 
No one stands in your garage
Daddy, You took every tool
Except the hammer and sitting stool
Daddy, I still miss you 
--- I love you. 
***
Dear Daddy, I'm all grown up now
Haven't seen you since I was 10

Daddy, I sit on your favorite chair,
No longer do I miss the way you caressed my hair.
Daddy, I'm taking the old hammer and this BRAND NEW saw,
It's time to patch all the holes mom punched in the wall 
*The day you walked out on us*
Daddy, don't worry about the times I tripped and fell
Mom found someone to fix  the loose boards,
Got tired of scraping my knees 

Daddy, I finally realized I'm okay,
I agree with mom, it's better this way.

by- Not every dad is great (but step-dad YES!)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013




Details | Free verse |


I decorate a grotto for you, Mama where orchids and holy images embellish this special place and day, that saintly icons guard you there as if they beg me to be released from years of guilty devotion… Yet I polish their laced clothes; then close the night waiting for wind chimes to knell,’ Magnificat.’ Scenes from younger days resound, while you, Mama, gift me with love and hate flickering through my confused mind: and sharpened bells ring in my ears; the gong of your voice banging across the hall, yet I still recall, mouth so tender, droning lullabies in the soft of window sills, ‘Magnificat’… How can I reconcile quietude and boom, when the little girl in me longs for your lithe timber within that special place, till holy statues listen to my wind chimes and finally understand this adoration. The Seeker's Contest: Your Absolute Best

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come 

dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings

don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat

I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure

                but, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it

protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine, 
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control

like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us,  and then they all go home...

do we cry........?  Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now


                for, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it
      __________________________________________





4/12/13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Lapis lazuli mines with wide blue eyes
bringing to mind precious stones and
caramel scones; innocent and wise -
Wondering, yet without surprise.

Staring down the universe, a challenge
in your look though you are young;
The earth made only nine revolutions 
since you came out to see the sun.

Unguarded and arched, your brows 
betray high wire tension; enough 
to light up a hundred moons and warm
plump cheeks to cherry bubble gum.

Be not impatient to grow; you smell
of open grasshopper meadows
and firefly lighted lakeshore walks.
You’re a mother’s envy and pride.

Red lips! Your passion for life exists.
Scarlet, lipstick would be a surfeit -
Today as then till many summer’s been,
your spirit will always be free as the mist.



After:  Portrait of Carol Nye  Rhoades (Robinson) (1915)


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting No. 2
Kim Patrice Nunez
08 January 2016

Poem of the Week:  January 10-16, 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

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

Never before had I seen
so many shades of gray;
the overcast, monochromatic splendor
was awe-inspiring,
instead of being bleak and bleary.
___

The smell of salt and seaweed
awakes something dormant and eternal,
deep within me. 
I have a surging desire 
to flush stagnancy from my blood—

salty blood and water
come together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.

Beside me, a flash of bright red 
digs in the sand; 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;
reflected, a fire glows from my eyes.

Unknowingly, I had dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
like a chameleon:
an illusion thicker than the clouds;
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.

I watch my daughter
drink the seascape with a smile of wonder;
it's her first time visiting an ocean.
With our pants rolled up to the knee,
we wade through waves,
and collect stones and shells.
She knows the chameleon
who walks alongside her in the frothy surf.

Observing seabirds cover the steep cliffs
of the island located further out,
in a blanket of black and white feathers,
I wonder if people onshore
only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon 
is more noticeable than I had thought.



2012 North Sea Remix
December 17th, 2012






.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
I reach onto the bookshelf Carefully removing the photograph album from the top shelf We nestle together on the sofa I slowly turn over the pages Yellowing photographs that capture precious moments frozen in time Suddenly you become animated Hidden memories begin to return … We laugh as you recall stories from the past You lovingly stroke the faces of those now long gone Wishing they were there by your side for real Tears fill your green eyes as you reach out and gently squeeze my hand Nostalgia Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
11~25~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
My sweet child
My daughter
Be on guard
Be on guard of the man
Who plays on your heartstrings…
Not with flirtatious smile
Nor with flexed muscles
Not with devouring eyes
Nor with intellectual prowess
Or clothes so fine

No, these you can resist
You can set boundaries
And be done
The threat, false alarms 
Their charm easily undone
Your defenses will withstand
The groping hand
The false charm
No, don't be alarmed

Oh, but child
My precious sweet one
Be on your guard
I beg you
I implore
Be on your guard
From the man named, “POET”
A man who wields words
Who crafts and designs them
Like a carpenter with wood...
Who makes them into jewels
With a jeweler’s touch...
Who makes them sweet delicacies
That simply melt in your mouth

He can shape and design his words
To fit your every need
He writes down your dreams
As though they were his own
His words an homage
To your beauty
Your form
The light in your eyes
The way you entice
Your captivating smile
Your dark tresses
Cherry lips
Or the curve of your hips

BE ON GUARD
Oh, dear one
Be on guard
For he means to take you
To sweep you away
In the tide of beautiful rhymes
The rise of fall of passion
Making your body move in time
He means to ensnare you
To capture your soul
He means to dominate 
To slowly undress
Intoxicate with his words
So you forget common sense
He wants you to eat from his hands
Choice morsels of love
While he whispers in your ear,
“There's more where that came from.”

My child
Be on guard
For words cannot pay
Your rent or expenses
Cannot save your day
Words won’t be there
When you cry in the night
They won’t be able
To turn on that light
Words won’t be your lover
With hands nice and slow
That touch you in places
Words can never go

My child, 
My darling
Listen to me
Stay away from those poets
They’ve got potency
They will woo and bewitch you
Throw fairy dust in your eyes
But at the end of the day
Only a few don’t tell lies

My child, my sweet
Get a man who will be
THERE IN PERSON
BODY and SOUL
With hands that caress
And with eyes that speak
Of your body in that dress
Spoken words make you weak
With lips that touch yours
That say you’re divine
That lick from your navel
That sweetest of wine
Stay away from those poets
Be on Guard
Save your life!
For a poet, my child
Is the greatest danger in life
The greatest beauty
The greatest dream
The greatest heartache
The greatest strife
Be on guard
BE ON GUARD
SAVE YOUR LIFE!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
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

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005

Details | Verse |
I paint your beauty in my heart and mind  
in swirling strokes of wind squalls and light;
the youthful lift of limbs of early spring,   
with summer’s joyful red, with fall's surprise.
I paint you in wonder of winter’s white
through snow storm's chill and my loving eyes.

I paint you beyond the blue pain of the past
with the gray of fear the future hides.
Jealous of luring space and power of time, 
yet, with all the hope, the joy, the ache
as seen in the strength of my trembling hand;
I’ll paint you again my child, mesmerized.


After:  L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 8
Kim Patrice Nunez
17 January 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
Beside the linen hanging out to dry,
a young girl trudges with a basket full
of sheets that she has cleaned. Her head is bent
to hide a tear she does not want to cry.
Although in summer’s heat, she’s feeling spent,
it’s not her work now troubling her soul.

Her mother’s had to work hard every day
and leave the children by themselves till night.
There is no outside help; the mother tries
to raise a brood whose father passed away.
Her sweetest child, red-haired and oh so wise,
does much to make her mother’s burden light.

She knows her mother needs to get some sleep.
An old soul, she sees all and rarely cries,
but while her brothers run free in the sun,
she drops her load and simply starts to weep.
Grief flows till she resumes her role - the one
that is the family’s angel in disguise.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
A clutter of wood and dust and cobwebby corners, And dappled sun shining through dirty windows; On his work table a drawing; a project in progress, And tin cans and jars of nails and screws on shelves. Tools on hooks waiting for hands that will never come, I touch the old tools like they were the finest of lace; And I cannot help thinking, who will want all this, He was a simple man, my father, and I loved him so. His death was fast, no one expected him to leave, In a blink he was gone, and all I have are memories; I linger there with the dust that floats in the sun, And I weep and weep for what I have lost this day. Then, I pick up his pencil and on his paper I write, I write this poem of pain and it is the beginning; The beginning of my writing as an adult with soul, I leave the child, that was me, and become a poet, Today. _________________________ Written July 21, 1997 at 11AM (one hour after my Dad's death) Free Verse Entered in the contest, Celebrating My Fav's, sponsor, Andrea Dietrich First Place ________________________ Entered in the contest, Any Poem, #36 (a poem that placed in one of her past centests) sponsor, PD First Place ________________________ For the contest, A poem written before Poetry Soup, sponsor, PD 4th Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
 

In riming realms of crystal contemplations water vapor frozen meditations and chilled flutes filled with zodiactal light musings of ancient cosmic dust dancing in the arms of Sol - - windswept operatic reveries rise and fall as her stirring soprano tickled by chantings of icicled chimes gathers momentum in strengthening sprays of frosted musical notes drifting in broken chords... she bestrides a clouded steed colored mother-of-pearl flowing with fury within which beats a blustery heart surging at jet stream speeds she hearkens to his hailstorm hooves from the streamered skies of the merry dancers they fly aloft on arctic gales of lyrical laughter igniting the imagination of her freezing fire burning now with a blistering whip and a nipping frostbite that sinks its tingling teeth deep sailing a supernatural stage amplifying - her aerated soprano soars in polar vortex arias as avalanching glazed trinkets; decendants of her fertile femininity skydive in shivering sixfold symmetry falling in fierce flights of fancy as she cyclones on consecrated currents with wild abandon escalating in twirling trills of glass beaded squalls swirling her iced eiderdown skirts aflare baring tempest thighs storming with a Siberian sting ~ and as her electric eyes sparkle with luminous lightning she buries you in a blizzard of opal mistletoe berries and wanton whims. Susan Ashley February 20, 2018 *a practice in imagery and alliteration*

Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018

Details | Free verse |
Please love yourself,
My daughter wrote
As we chatted away
About my upcoming trip
And yet my tears spilled over
As I bared my heart
To my 19 year old daughter
The joy of my life
The light of my eyes
The reason…..
The reason I go on with life
It’s for her
I try to survive
And push on
For she still needs me

And she wrote…..
You need to appreciate yourself more mami
I can't imagine my life without you
Just thinking about my life without you in it 
just makes me wanna break down
Please mama for me
Please love yourself
I dunno why it's so hard for you to see how incredible you are

She knew all my reasons
And yet she asked
Desperate to pull me out
To help me see the light
To remind me of who I was
Who I still am
And I soothed and comforted her
Knowing she’d worry
Her daddy away
And her Mama all alone
Locked in her room
Crying the night away
Yet she was the strong one
Mothering me
Giving me
A shoulder to cry on

And after all the tears those words of hers brought
I thanked her for loving me…..
And she wrote
I can't help it. You're amazing. You just need to give yourself a chance
Come here mami we'll have so much fun

And I smiled through my tears
Grateful for the blessing I have in her
And my heart decided
Once more
Once more
For a little while longer
To fight the good fight
To survive
To let the vivacious Mommy she knew
Come to life
The one all her friends loved
And said was “so cool”
That Mommy
That woman
I'd ask her to go on
And to try...
To try...
To love herself...

...For the love of a daughter

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
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.




Copyright © Margaret Okubo | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Maid of the Myst

I lie in repose
Under the falls
In a tranquil pool
Of turquoise blue

He left me for another
This I could not suffer
My pain already drowning me
I fell from the falls

Spectacular was the news
Young girl with the blues
Dives to her cherished death
My lover left me for I was on meth

I was confused and skin so bruised
Misused and tears seeped from my veins
No one at all could know this enduring pain
So now under the falls I enjoy the rain

My soul lies deep
Under waters so very steep
I wait, and I wait
To be alive again

From the skies
Not another… but I see a phone that dives
Floating downwards upon my weary breast
A chance you see, finally I was blessed

I call from the depths below
Like a spirit I begin to glow
Daddy daddy is that you?
From below I call to say a proper adieu



Found inside her pocket

I miss you daddy
I love you so much
Forgive my wild youth
Remember me as I was in your arms
Long ago with my pony tails
Your little cuddly pumpkin
Love you daddy

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
She is learning young
Pure genteel pleasures of a garden
Amid the fragrant roses and towering lupines
That give the winter pardon.
Sweet feminine echo of her beautiful mother
She holds up her watering can
a tiny version of the other.

Now she mimics to perfection
The sprinkling of flowers 
as she giggles with delight
At birds in secret bowers.

She can't wait for the 'morrow
Her duties to employ
She is mother's little helper
And Daddy's little joy

For	Isaiah Zerbst -Gordon Dunlop Leslie Contest
http://www.pasionporlapintura.com/art-gallery/george-dunlop-leslie-painter/leslie-gd-the-young-gardener-oil-painting-reproduction/

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again

                               Amen

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Verse |
A Poem Please Contest Sponsor: John Lawless in love with you forever sorrow can heal wounds through sickness and health I grew that day… I knew that day… I had high hopes of a well spent future with him. Dreams of us sailing into the sunset and sharing sweet kisses underneath the constellations. They were our constellations. But that day… -I just knew. Working so hard was indeed a burden he bore and giving of himself was tiring him out even more than usual. Catching his breath was not easy. I saw it in his eyes that night. The same look he gave me when his sister had passed last year. A trip to the doctor confirmed it. Sarcoidosis. What? I have never heard of this disease before. An auto-immune inflammatory disease that affects multiple organs of the body. His immune system had been overreacting and his organs are slowly shutting down. His skin had been tightening and his joints had been sore. There he was…staring out the window thinking about all the things he would miss as a daddy. There I was…staring at him thinking about all the things I would miss about…nothing but…him. My first love. My high school sweetheart. Twenty years is never long enough to spread our wings as committed lovers. “Our little girl is only ten”, I thought. How are we to explain this to her when she cannot see the damage physically? No surgeries to fix this, and no treatments to prevent it from getting worse. The love of my life was going to slowly die right before my eyes. Months had flown and we had many days of struggle and tears, although we did create many exceptional memories to add to our photo book. It took some time to accept this but I think I tried the best I could. Many good days had passed but one chilly Saturday afternoon in October we held hands gathered around my dear Nicholas. He gave his last kiss to his Ella on her upper right cheek. I saw him take his last breath and he was gone… -I just knew. Years had passed, seasons had changed, and our little girl was going to be married in fifteen minutes. Oh, how she missed her daddy walking her down the aisle. She chose me to walk her down the aisle instead and of course, I was honored. The music started playing and our families stood up and Ella looked at me with a twinkled tear in her eye and said, “mom, daddy’s here, I can feel him giving me a kiss on my upper right cheek.” She had a beautiful beauty mark on her upper right cheek and her daddy used to kiss it every night before bed and whisper, "daddy loves you..." We looked at each other and we both knew… -we just knew. love of my life gone married with daddy’s blessing sacred beauty mark Date Written: April 29, 2016

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |

Often, I open the cemetery gate to visit mother,
"I took the bus mother, the scenery was lovely;
 I brought you a red rose from my own garden,
     and now I stand weeping."
       "Do not be sad daughter,
        my time was finished;
        you know I suffered,
        now, I know peace."
                          (The birds are twittering.)
       "oh but I miss you so much mother,
            your voice, your touch, your love;"
"We had a wonderful life you and me daughter,
 talking over tea, gardening, going for country drives."
"Oh, yes mother, I remember all that and so much more!"
                           (The leaves are whispering.)
       "It is time daughter to let go,
          do not dwell with the dead;"
"Mother, I wish that I could break this chain of grief,
  so many lay with you beneath the cold earth."
" And we are all at peace, beyond all pain we dwell,"
(weeping) "I must go mother, I will back soon, promise."
                            (A red rose left, disappears.)

___________________________
September 5, 2016

Verse

Submitted to the contest, Best Sad Poem Ever II
sponsor, Laura Loo 

Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


"At the Seat of the Catacombs of Amygdala"
"...the curse ruled from the underground down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before..." The Curse
Violet Black the night is still diving through oceans of stars now waking violins soaring in my heart’s crater speed to the seat of Amygdala Descartes moving closer anticipation,the Sphinx is smiling and Horus waiting in his castle calls me home abandoned in my green field mind of Lavendar spirits swinging hidden essence of secret monk’s theribles shrouded hoods in their grim reaper guarded churchyards writing words upon the air their Purgatory Alter daughtermotherdaughter Goddess prayers of devotion stealing love from sharks feeding them pearls and sirens singing in their love Indigo rapture velvet bee keeper gloved hand smoking catacombs Supersedure Queens and absent drones, bottles corking time hideous time sand dripping wet tears through the Hour Glass, never stops diamonds drop by drop acceleration dress-ups buckled straight jacket uniform no arms marching with the Soldiers of Conform setting tables,last feast rosaries now I lay me down to sleep up the stairs bowed and weeping swept out of sight in starched collars and cobwebs glistening Huntsman, no Audrey Hepburn,no Caron Daddy Long legs Aether sees her in a mirror falling down to Hades Lewis' traps on a hero’s mission saving 3 Graces and returning returning HOME. Violet Black the night is still diving through oceans of stars now waking waking she returns spinning her Golden Chord to pull you away closer into her sweet dreams held to her peaceful Polar Bear Hug sleeves it was never cold in their Igloo truth serum syllabub no silver spoon happy dreams,rough seas,then peaceful and still Black Swan singing in Joan of Arc chain mail Heavenly wings slip softly into starlight away from stalking cats blood sucking bats barking Hounds of Baskerville through galaxies of milky honeycomb, to where God hides in a protected glass snow globe somewhere beyond the pulsating No Go Zone Charon’s been handed his token None of this should be spoken. Nyx has Aether in her arms they are flying home Violet Black the night is still diving through oceans of stars now waking. Honeycomb cement feet sacrificial drowning A little death. Supersedure. Back in "their" kitchen the smell of stewed pears and chocolate cake baking. (Lovejoy-Burton/Jan 2018)

Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2018

Details | Free verse |
In my father's eyes, I'll always be his princess,
No matter how old I've grown, he still sees
His little girl, dancing across the invisible stage
Before him.
A living Cinderella in miniature form, whom
Will never grow up, and thinks her dad is prince
Charming, and the strongest man on earth.
Cradling within this wondrous heart, is devotion’s
Biggest fan, the man I call my father, he's protector,
Comforter, and the everlasting image, of the perfect
Man that I idolize.
No wizard's wand or sword, holds more magic
Than his tender words of wisdom, as I stroll
Down the yellow brick road of life, I'm his
Dorothy, and he is, the Wizard of my oz.
Oh Papa, you've instilled the wonderment
Of this world within me, and I know, no matter
Where I roam, he shall always be a part
Of me.
You've always said, no matter how old I get
That within thy heart, a princess remains, timeless, 
Ageless, as if Alice, hidden behind the looking glass, 
Peering through from wonderland, magical world.
Perfection's cherished rose, whom never loses it's
Petals, but blossoms nourished by loves fertile soil,
That only a father's faith can provide.
I'll always be his princess, no matter what bad
Choices I may make in life, I know he'll pick me
Up and smooth out the wrinkles in my velvet gown,
Wiping away my tears, turning them instantly into diamond
Shards, and letting me dance away again, clapping
For this his darling princess. 
So let the musical waltz of life, play forever forward,
As I lightly tip toe, across destiny’s ballroom floor.
My dancing card remains eternally full, written within
One name stands out, it is yours dearest sweet man.
He is after all my prince charming, and I am
His dearest little girl, and of coarse in his eyes
Always his little princess.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN










Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
I wish I could find the reasons now, and not wait until I die.

Mostly, I WISH Mommy could fix this.

Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 
RIP March 25, 2013

----------
by;PD  :-(

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother 
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her 
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths 
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job 
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
She searches  through his remnants
Trying to find her broken pieces
Had she been important to him?
She finds a single piece of yellowed paper
Her name written in his elegant hand
Those hands that had held her once
Strong hands
She had felt safe in those hands
Unaware of his weakness,
his lacking
Why had he left?
She kept looking though drawers and boxes
Feverishly searching for answers
Only one photo
Taken so very long ago
Proof that they had been part of his life
The proof felt like a knife
Those young faces smiling at her
Blissfully unaware of what was to come
Daddy was leaving
He wasn't coming home again
She hands the photo to her sister
There must be more
She keeps searching
Unaware of what was important to him
Wanting more clues
Answers 
Reasons
Another piece of paper
Her sisters name with her children listed underneath
The grandchildren he never got to know 
She can't help wonder
Why were they not enough
And she realizes it was his lacking
It was never theirs
There was nothing they could have done
They could not be better girls
Happier girls
Good enough girls!
He was broken 
Lonely long before them
His remnants scattered
Indecipherable 
She looks at her sisters
They cry together
Sad for the loss of what they did not have
Yet beneath the tears they smile
Holding each other's delicate hands
For they possess a strength he never had
They have stayed together
Loved each other
Carried each other's burdens
Resilient
Loving 
Caring
They have survived
If he had known them
He would have been so proud

Dedicated to and inspired by Bev Smith.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

He is now a band of sky, a bird, a cloud, a stream of blue drifting by in midafternoon, a dragonfly, a butterfly, a speck of light dancing by, an abandoned sheet of loose leaf paper with a poem scribbled on it, or maybe a grape ripening on the vine sweetening to perfection in the summer sun; he is now a feeling deepening, gravity, energy, peace, commotion, the tide – forever August, forever June… an ocean wave never reaching the shore (the sand and sun evermore), a smile, a tear, laughter that never ends, a child’s open, inquisitive mind, a friend, the welcoming voices of home, the cracks in the walls holding my secrets, the comfort of a favorite blanket or familiar pair of warm arms. Perhaps, he’s eternal summer, youth running with ease in his favorite shorts and flip-flops, hair sun-bleached tumbling free, or perhaps, he is one feather floating high on the ocean breeze. I often see his face in rain clouds mixed with tears, singing the Grateful Dead or a great hymn. He is the music forever playing in my ear and the sweet tropical air filling my lungs; He lives in the cozy log cabin in a clearing of pines and the largemouth bass jumping from the lake at dawn’s break, He’s the tortoise sunning on the shore, the buck running wild, the heartbeat of a father holding his baby for the first time, the joy of my morning, the pain of night, and the wind calling my name, dancing with the leaves on the trees… he is the trees, the air, he is in my eyes and theirs. He is in Heaven but his love is everywhere. Written, 3/7/15 for The Pain of Night Contest

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015