Best Fatherfather Poems
Father’s are wonderful people
Too little understood
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should…
For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills
While mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills…
And father struggles daily
To live up to his image
As protector and provider
And “hero of the scrimmage”
And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion
That fathers are not subject
To the thing we call “emotion”
But if you look inside Dad’s heart
Where no one else can see
You’ll find he’s sentimental
And as “soft” as he can be
But he’s so busy every day
In the grueling race of life
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife
But fathers are just wonderful
In a million different ways
And merit loving compliments
And accolades of praise
For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness
And like our heavenly father
He’s a guardian and a guide
Someone we can count on
To be always on our side.
In the darkening room I stood:
tears welling in my eyes:
by the windowed-wall, looking out,
my small chest full of sighs.
Headlights bright white and tail lights red,
paired, meandered down the street,
yet the white headlights that I sought
seemed only to retreat.
Cold, calm, singular, tear drops fell,
soon reaching down turned lips;
as in the house across the street,
the living room was lit.
A Father held his baby high.
He hugged that toddler tight.
I wiped the corner of my eye,
and gazed into the night.
Above the darkened woodland near,
beneath a cobalt sky;
the highway brought their Fathers home.
alone again stood I.
Horns blared out in drives near by
sweet laughter filled the air,
and, in the drive across the street,
their Fathers did appear.
The children ran out slamming doors,
on small unshodden feet,
with tiny squeals, and upturned cheeks,
their Father they did greet.
Where was the father who I sought
our lives incomplete
a traveling man, my Father
did nothing but retreat.
*A memory from when I was 8.
Tell me if a father was a piece of bread and his children had to eat
of him in order to live and grow daily, yet the father who was made
of bread lacked in the needed nutrients and substance for them live
off of or to survive off of, then surely has he not then condemned
them to an almost certain death? I ask that all men stop being that
type of bread and become the bread of life. Men you need to enrich
your daughters and sons, so that they too will become breads of life
and not the bread of death. Man is made of bread and to each of his
children he is their daily source of knowledge, respect, caring, hope
and love of life, which in turn produce a new loaf of bread to be eaten
by the next generation. All of us need to become that bread of life in
our homes and throughout our daily lives for our children and the world.
My father is now pitching the bottom of the ninth inning.
We need a few more tests to determine just how many outs he has left.
I had the opportunity this past weekend to visit him on the mound and ask him how
he was feeling.
“I still feel like I can get them out” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting Cancer to come
to the plate.”
Nobody was.
My mother has caught all nine innings and she still remains the receiver of this
battery.
One of the seven fielders behind him had to leave the game early and awaits him in
the great beyond.
We all wait anxiously for the scouting report to help us determine just how to attack
this batter as he steps up to the plate.
We may be able to throw fast balls and get him out with an operation.
Or, if he has spread out too far, curve balls, chemotherapy and radiation may be the
best approach.
Or, if he is too formidable, we may just need to intentionally walk him.
The test results will help us determine our plan of attack.
Regardless, however, my father has pitched a masterful game.
I tipped my hat to him as I returned back to Seattle while he confers with his
battery mate and waits for the test results.
All of his fans are now aware of the batter he faces and all have risen to their feet in
applause and gratitude for the way he has played the game.
I learned this game and much more from the old man.
I would consider myself a blessed man if I could manage to play it half as good as
he.
One thing I know – he will face this batter, be it his last or not, just like all the
others; with a smart ass grin on his face and the assured confidence that it is he
who is the better man in this struggle.
Go get him, Dad.
Regardless of the outcome, it is already known that you have won the game.
We couldn’t be any prouder of how you played it.
I am glad you get the chance to hear the standing ovation – you deserve it.
Oh my father my weeping father
There is this promise l make today
It might just make you smile
Your dark eyes may even shine with pride
Your labour will not be in vain
My success will take away your pain
Your wounds will be healed by your tears of joy
And your deceased heart will be ressurrected by faith
My father someday failure will flee with shame
Laughter will be heard from above
Unbury your head from the sand
And weep no more my king
I've heard people say............
My poppa is a good, good man.
While others say my daddy is a man they can't stand.
But all I know is my father is my own superman,
moving burdens, like mountains, with a shift of his hands.
There are not words that could quite describe what he means to me.
No amount of materials or money, that can compare to him, you see.
My daddy is a good man.
Mere perfection is not within his grasp,
but through his examples,
his humanity, makes me proud to exclaim,
that my father is great, not only in name.
So to all those folks who say they don't like him,
they just don't know or don't understand,
My daddy is a good man.
God bless my father for every day
he deserves to be blessed I can honestly say
he took my hand to show me the way
while clearing a path for me he'd say..
"Follow this path I clear today, for I'll
never leave you or lead you a stray"
The strength and security I feel with
my father, could never be replaced or
received by no other
And it's this special bond between
my father and me, that will test
his strength when he sets me free
There's nothing in this world more
sacred than he, and the morals
and values he's passed down our
tree
We'll walk down the isle together
one day, he'll give up my hand
then kneel down to pray,
"oh Lord..oh Lord..please show
me A way, for she was my baby
just yesterday".
Dear Daddy,
Where were you
All my life
Since I was young
When I turned 10?
My first year of
Double digits
How about my first year
Of High School
My Sweet 16?
Where were you then
Now...all of the sudden
I am a Senior
17 years old
And you want to be a part in it?
You can't even remember my birthday
You can't spell my sister's name right...
What type of father is that?
Not a very good one...
Why is it that...
You now what to be a part of me
Because I'm an adult?
Do you want control now...
Because I can take care of myself
And you don't have to???
Why didn't you care before
You say you've changed
But your still the same
What happened to the 2 birthday cards you promised?
I still haven't gotten them.
I just want to let you know...
This may be hard to hear but you need to hear it...
I don't know...
If you should come to my graduation
My marriage..when I find a man who wants to marry me.
I don't think I should invite a man
Who wasn't a father to me
Thinking he has changed.
I don't think that you have changed....
If you have...
You've never proven it?
I am still waiting for proof...
I have'nt even gotten a birthday card...
Everytime you call...
You have to ask how old I am...
And what grade I'm in...
Sorry but that's not a father...
That's not someone who I want to call...
Daddy...
I'm Sorry.
Your Daughter,
Brittany
NOW THAT I AM OLDER I CAN
TELL YOU HOW MUCH YOU MEAN
A FATHER PLAYS AN IMPORTANT ROLE
TO A LITTLE GIRLS SELF ESTEEM
A LOT OF LITTLE GIRLS
CAN'T SAY THEY'RE AS
LUCKY AS ME BECAUSE
THEIR DADS DON'T COME
AROUND OR ACKNOWLEDGE
THEM BEING OFFSPRING
I FEEL SO VERY SORRY
FOR THOSE GIRLS ESPECIALLY
THEY WILL SEARCH AND SEARCH
FOR THEIR FATHER'S LOVE
AND THEY SEARCH FOR IT
ENDLESSLY
FOR A FATHER THEY ARE
ALWAYS LOOKING
NO MATTER WHERE IT BE
TO FILL THE HOLLOW SPACE
INSIDE OF THE ONE THING
THAT is ALWAYS MISSING
THEY WILL USUALLY SETTLE
FOR A MAN WHO WILL
DELIVER A DAILY BEATING
BECAUSE OVER A PERIOD
of TIME THEY BELIEVE THAT
THEY DON'T DESERVE hiM
THE ONE THING, I WOULD TELL
THOSE GIRLS IS THAT
EVERYTHING WILL BE OK
NO ONE NEEDS A FATHER
FIGURE THAT NEGLECTS
THEM ANYWAY
TODAY IS THE DAY, I WILL TELL
MY DAD JUST HOW MUCH HE MEANS
ON SECOND THOUGHT THERE'S NOT
ONE MEMORY HE'S EVER CREATED
WITH ME
FOR ME HE'S NEVER BEEN THERE, FOR
A BIRTHDAY OR EVEN HALLOWEEN
I'M GLAD I'M NOT THE CHILD OF HIS MOTHER
WHAT SHE RAISED, IS A USELESS HUMAN
BEING
THE DAUGHTER OF MY MOTHER
IS WHO I'M PROUD TO BE
MY MOTHER IS ACTUALLY DOING
A GREAT JOB SO MUCH SO
THAT MAN'S WORTHLESS TO ME
I've heard people say............
My poppa is a good, good man.
While others say my daddy is a man they can't stand.
But all I know is my father is my own superman,
moving burdens, like mountains, with a shift of his hands.
There are not words that could quite describe what he means to me.
No amount of materials or money, that can compare to him, you see.
My daddy is a good man.
Mere perfection is not within his grasp,
but through his examples,
his humanity, makes me proud to exclaim,
that my father is great, not only in name.
So to all those folks who say they don't like him,
they just don't know or don't understand,
My daddy is a good man.
My dear father I love you so.
From when I was young I hope you know.
I loved to spend my time with you.
I wanted to be there in what ever you'ld do.
I would often wonder how you'ld do it.
Work hard all day and make it through it.
With us six kids to provide for.
We couldn't ask you'ld do much more.
My dearest dad you did your best.
Now you deserve a well earned rest.
We rode all night in the tractor.
The memories of that still give me laughter.
To me that was our special time.
For in those moments you were all mine.
Your love I didn't have to share.
It was just us two and no one else there.
Those special times have helped me through.
Good times and bad or in whatever I do.
So my dear father don't be sad.
The hard times I'm having aren't so bad.
Step by step the Lord's been here.
And helps me through all my fear.
For me you've already done so much.
By giving me you're fathers touch.
I see how much this hurts you so.
There's just one thing you need to know.
I got my strength from mom and you.
So with this love I'll make it through.
I'm stronger than you'll ever know.
God's with me he'll run the show.
I thank you for the things you've done.
So please relax and have some fun.
It's hard to see you struggle so much.
So please remember I have God's touch.
He's here with me from day to day.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
So take some time and have some fun.
And just remember what's done is done.
These are the cards that I've been dealt.
But with your love the pain does mellt.
And life goes on for all of us.
When we put our love in the God we trust.
As consciousness escaped me,
My journey got under way;
Floating on clouds of thoughtlessness,
The subconscious came in to play.
My spirit left my body;
Watching it from above;
Departing while it lay sleeping;
Flying away like a dove.
I journeyed into the past
To have a talk with my brother Jim;
He left this earth far too young;
Been twenty years since we lost him.
He warned me not to go too far;
My body might come awake
And if my spirit hasn’t returned
Another soul it would take.
But I continued on my journey
To see my father as a younger man;
I longed to have a chat with him
As a peer if I possibly can.
I told him I’m from his future;
He is still alive and doing fine;
I just wanted to correct an oversight
To say I’m glad he’s the father of mine.
He said, “Joe, we never say those words,
But we know it deep inside.
We try to keep our emotions underneath,
But these feelings we just can’t hide.”
“So please return to the present
And don’t worry about our past;
I’ve always known how you felt
And I’ll know it to the very last.”
So I hurried back to the future;
I bade Jimmy a final farewell;
Found my body still at rest,
My consciousness a secret to tell.
I woke up in the morning;
No memory of my dreams that night;
Called my father later that day
With a sense the world was right.
By Joe Flach
For Constance’s “A Fragmented Dream Contest”
The Journey Dream
My Father is astounding
In so many way's
And the nature
Is all about him
From His ample
Solitary Life of being
And with a Heart of Gold
-
May the Lord fully bless Him
With Mind, Body and Soul
- Fore -
He adapts' and mutates'
When ever their is a need
Or need,
A need that need be
Surely there is a place
For Him in Heaven
So, I pay homage' to Thee
Fore, He is my Father
A Father like no other
GF
Dedicated to Charles A. Jefferson SR
Of Portsmouth, VA 23701 on Fathers' Day June 2011
Afternoon of Goodbye to His Time
A picture of my father,
When he was my age now.
He sits in his office,
and I am somewhere far away.
He writes in his cramped handwriting,
scours the books where he thinks the truth is.
For his small lunch, he walks out of the picture,
his body struggles home.
The screen door collapsing behind him,
inside the house it is hot,
A fan stirring the cloud-heavy air.
In the kitchen, my father eats death
mixed like arsenic into bread,
tows himself into the den and lies down among the claws
of ferns my mother has forgotten to water,
the springs of the orange couch pressing into the flesh
He can’t free himself of.
Interference on the TV, a listlessness of baseball.
It is summer,
nights of heat lightning.
A lover discovers the secret babylons of flesh
behind my wet swim suit.
My father has built a chain link fence
around the Tree of Knowledge.
I am climbing it.
In the picture, he has more hair,
less of a belly;
his face boyish, open.
I run past him, out the door to my lover, I’ll be home sometime,
I don’t know when.
The small dirt beginning to fall around him.
From far away I see him now in the picture.
He doesn't speak. Just stares into the camera,
reciting Proverbs to answer the despair in his head,
books heaped around him.
If I were to call into the time of that picture,
there would be no answer, the phone ringing
and ringing.
Outside the locked door:
halls my father walked down long ago,
steps echoing
on an afternoon of goodbye
to his time.
Father, when I was younger ;once upon a time.
You had your jobs being provider, in the meantime.
When I was younger, you didn't understand.
Who I really was, or what I had planned.
As I grew older, you came to respect me more.
when I talk to you now, you have become my mentor.
The Lord instilled in your heart love and compassion.
To better understand others with a reverential passion.
I come to you with past, present and future dilemma’s.
You say a prayer for me, hoping I would listen.
I don't know what to do, I have a plethora full of distresses.
You pray and try to help me out of these so called messes.
We have amicable chitchats about computers and gadgetry.
You take some time out to spend with me.
When I have trouble with my husband, who is a man.
I come to you because, I know you understand.
I thank the Father above for you my father in this worldly place.
I love you, there is no other, like you I would want to replace.