Dad Poems | Examples of Dad Poetry

I get so frustrated when I think about what I lost Or perhaps never had I know what it should have been What it would be like to have a dad No one is ever Even close to enough for you I try so damn hard but in your eyes All I see is a disappointed gloom...

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“Peter Periwinkle had a car accident,” my brother said, as if reading it aloud from the back of a cereal box. It took me three full seconds to realize he meant our father. We were on my grandma’s farm where she had recently died, leaving chickens scratching unknowingly in the dust. Our father was elsewhere— broken, back bent like a paperclip, drunk at the wheel when the other car...

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I reflect on the days- Her first little steps, those tiny feet chasing dreams. Her doing silly little dances on the floor, She'd giggle, then stumble, then laughter galore. You weren’t there when she climbed the school bus stairs. Smiling like sunshine with a lunchbox in hand, ready to conquer the world before the world even knew her. You...

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We stood at the edge of the back yard, next to the garage— where I’d pretended to be an astronaut in a cardboard spaceship— on a chill November night, watching Sputnik II arc across the sky. I didn’t know why he was rarely home— or why it wasn’t always like this when he was: quiet, steady, present. All I knew was the stars were out, and he was beside me— and Laika was...

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Under the solar system in our basement I sat, copying schematics of superheterodyne radios from a book on electronics, while my dad, across from me, stood at his drawing board illustrating advertisements for feed and farm equipment. The floor was painted blood red, the walls bandage white— a battlefield made tidy. The dehumidifier murmured its hymn beneath Saladin’s ceramic gaze, his turbaned brow inscrutable as my father bent to...

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why fight when we can say no more fighting Now written by dad...

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Every day I walked by the dead cockroach on The second floor’s third stair. I was out of breath by the sixth. On the eighth I’d stop, And wait until my heart slowed. I'd step out. How was his night? Emesis? Pain? Did he sleep? Evening would roll around. I'd walk by the clock stuck at 4:52. The elevators were faster...

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Eight years old in short pants clad, I am going with my dad, Dodger stadium, surreal - but Heaven is for real. Late at night, lifeguard station, tenderness and elation - first kiss, how does it feel - like Heaven is for real. It seemed I never could persuade, but, in my dorm, that night she stayed - Another...

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My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand whether shapely straight as a clarinet or conical as a saxaphone. He blows through a woody-reed, his tongue not lashing at us, but conditioned to musically relay his love for us. My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand. They put together a Hammond organ. His feet so cheerfully press the pedals, his fingers twinkle across...

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If you hadn't held down a job, we would've been screwed. If you hadn't worked, we would've had no shelter or food. You worked hard for years to keep a roof over our heads. You became ill in 2011 and twenty months later, you were dead. About three years after you retired, you died at the age of sixty-five. Even...

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You will know your dad when you too became a dad! You shall feel glad when you realize, he was your launch pad! You will appreciate his wisdom when you shoulder responsibilities of the kingdom! You will realize his care when he was dissolved into the air! You will dearly miss him when alone, against the tides of life, you swim! You shall...

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To each of my children please know I love you. If you weren't my children, I don't know what I'd do. As babies and infants you brought me so much joy. Playing make believe with me as we played with your toys. Though I must admit changing diapers weren't my style. But you each got me through it with your...

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This Father’s day I’m grateful for remembering a truth that’s ironclad… How any man can father a child… but it takes time, energy love and patience for that man to become a Dad. ...

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I came from the cracked earth, where sirens sang lullabies and gunshots kept rhythm like a mother’s heart— fast, then gone. We ate what we stole, slept where we fell, and called rusted chain-link fences the edge of the world. The old man left, the old lady broke, and love was a rumor we didn’t believe in. I bled young. Learned young. Fists before forgiveness, pain before prayer. But I built. One scar...

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You may know — she screamed a lot, But you may not know that he was still holding her along. They say, and they repeat, Calling him the villain in stories incomplete. Yes, he may seem inhuman and vile, But not every man walks the same trial. Remember — he is a...

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