Childhood Father Poems | Examples
These Childhood Father poems are examples of Father poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Father Childhood poems written by international poets.
My father was my Idol, Philosopher and Guide.
But he was a dominant person always to Control -
I had regular fight with him on inevitable Clash !
Imprisoned in childhood owing to daily Clash
Tired on conflict ! Developed personality yer he was Guide.
No way, I revolted to escape from his over -all Control !
I had to choose my own way getting rid of his Control
I had to struggle but I was just fed up on continued Clash.
Yet alll along I paid due respect to Dad as my Guide.
Dad was my Guide but I went out of his Control avoiding Clash !
My father's heartless attacks stung me hard
he claimed a cold world to do as he pleased
the darkness carried was marred and scarred
fate had given him a soulless disease
they said you should have known him long before
I answered I never thought it would end
struggling with memories I abhor
the hate in his eyes I'll never defend
the length and breadth of sadness bind those days
when his ghostly hand swung a razor strap
the shadowed terror remembered still stays
haunted by the anguished welts on my back
a child who sought love from a wishing well
my childhood cries shaped by living through hell
Daddy doesn't want to play.
I'll find a way to keep busy.
No problem, have your nap.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2026
My father's always been and is a good man.
For my siblings and I he does what he can.
For me, he showed what kindness means,
And how women must be treated as queens.
My father's always giving me what I need,
So hopefully when I someday succeed,
I can give back to him in ways that matter,
I just hope it is not too much later.
My father cares for our family from afar.
Whenever we visit, our love is a shining star.
He taught me to never go to bed angry
At anybody, 'cause we don't live eternally.
My father is my first teacher of philosophy
In treating all of Earth's humanity fairly.
He taught me that change begins with me.
He is the reason I learned how to just be.
As always, you won’t remember tomorrow. The words you spew without a care, that damage more than a bullet. He takes the verbal blows just like a pro boxer at this stage of the game called life, so used to being your personal punching bag. Yet there you are, drowning yourself in alcohol again and again. Maybe one day, that little boy inside will see he has more worth than being a personal punching bag and taking the verbal blows again and again.
You are more than his addiction.
You are worth respect.
When the sun bloomed
And the bougainvillea blossomed
And her cheeks unfurled
Into a long smile
At sunset,
I had her in my arms;
I knew her.
When the whales sprayed silhouettes,
And the fishermen made their bets;
Porpoise stitched the sea
Into a sunset dress
For her to wear at the dance
That night after we argued
About strangers.
(And please don’t talk to them
And don’t drink
And don’t dally about
And don’t be someone else
I don’t know.)
Don’t be a stranger
When you come home
when the sun rises,
Blooming.
The Look Is Fast As The Speed of Light
I got the look!
Instantaneous…eyes snap sidewise faster than the speed of light…
Freeze tag pinned in place…
Duh da da duh… I'm in trouble, blown something…
No question… no room for doubt… Yet not really…
Dad's unique cue… falling in between traditional parenting cracks… Straddling between discipline and time to nip this one in the bud…
That I can't believe _____ (fill in the blank) … I'm annoyed… to… well.. fits almost any category
A genetic predisposition… or inheritance?
Who cares? I got it! It's mine!
The girls got the look…
Doug. He's more than a worthy mention. Countless outcries… Don't give me the look!
Too late, once you said “don't” ….it's fait accompli!
Sherry Barton
May 10, 2024
Golden light shimmers, dust motes dance,
reflecting in my husband's gentle heart.
A still pond, calm and deep,
where childhood laughter plays a part.
He carries food, warm and bright,
hot idli's, crisp dosas, spicy chat.
Through streets of childhood, memories light,
her eyes, star-filled, like a child's glad hat.
Her belly, a tiny, budding world,
filled with hopes and dreams, so new.
He brings back tastes of days of old,
a carousel of joy, revived and true.
Each tiny dish, a whispered prayer,
to nurture a future, soft and strong.
His love, a constant, gentle care,
a symphony of righting all that's wrong.
Her pregnant glow, a moonlit scene,
by his devotion, beautifully shown.
Each offering, a loving, precious mean,
a heart of gold, forever known.
Stepping into one hundred degrees of morning haze
Wanting the sun to burn it all down in a fiery raze
'Til all the corn stalks are set to a glowing blaze
Then, rains can come across the plains; turning it to a syrupy glaze
Oh, how I loved these humidity infused summer days
They take me back to youth waking early; to enjoy my plays
I missed the first half of my life; when time seemed to have these endless ways
For adulting means its time to teach my littles how to navigate the craze
Also, to savor the moments 'til their fate reaches this phase
Who knew parenting was just guiding mice through the stands of maize?
One, two, buckle my shoe, a lesson to be learned;
Three, four, and so many more - times the world has turned.
Cross the laces, make some loops, feed the laces through;
Tighten them up and adjust - now you’ve tied your shoe.
A temper and impatience don’t suit a child so rare;
When blessed with a gift, treat him with respect and care.
One, two, buckle my shoe; a lesson to be learned;
Three, four, out the door, many times the world has turned.
Walking downstairs; I see particles of light,
Shimmering in my dark brown long hair.
The light of stars is so bright that it
Envelopes all the darkness into light.
Sauntering there; I am made aware,
By the crispy clear voice of my dad saying,
“Come over there!” I stare looking at his short
Grey hair illuminating a silhouette of bright light.
Dressed all in white, standing.
A long wooden dining table is next to him.
That’s where my aunt and uncle are seated side by side.
My father then extends his tan brownish colored hand,
Offering me a golden colored round Ladoo.
I take it and eat the Ladoo with fervor.
Chomping away nothing flavorful and salivating,
As my surroundings change to pitch black with holding
Nothing but air.
In the darkness a cry
A little voice ask why
Soft footsteps across the floor
Can see them passing my door
I cry no more
Moms away
Dad likes to play
Silence is the word
Nothing heard
Just a bump in the night
My heart takes off in fright
Fear takes flight
I don't want to know
Be a part of the show
but the pain
The stain
The damage to my brain
Was mine to keep
Each time I weep
In my sleep
I cry out loud
Not so proud
You taught me to hate
Did not wish your fate
Don't let no one near
Hold no one dear
In my dreams I see
The bad things that used to be
So I hide
Get over it I've tried
Been denied
Afraid to sleep
As I wake up and weep
This is mine to keep
This gift you gave
I'll carry it to my grave
I acknowledge You' are my eternal Father, I was
Born an earthly birth, in a corner of a universe
That drew its breath, from Your word rather
More You were, and are and will be; no mortal
Thing çan ever conquer me.' Though i know my
Parents bore and nurtured me, its you who alone
Who own the whole; the spirit heart and soul of
Me.' You sent your son to, get me freed.! from any
Trace of death dark seed, co-heir with Christ my
Opened eyes do see, i lift Your name in all in Majesty
My only hope and trust and guide, i place in You
Forever and ever, and much more besides.! I thank
You Father, for victory won, and the Holy Spirit dear
Lord; who always overcomes, the shadows of any fear.
Remembering my Dad
Walking home in the warm breeze
Wafting memories
As if that same wind
Had blown through our vacations
Places we traveled
When I was little
And we used to go camping
Or other roadtrips
I recalled the Past
Back when it was The Present
How it felt then
When time stood so still
When I wanted to "grow up"
Lacking gratitude
But full of wonder:
With a sky like that, where's God?
He must be up there?
Now I wonder, too,
Having learned more about God
Where is my Dad now?
Did he feel that breeze?
Does he get to shoot the breeze?
Or fly through the breeze?
Ruah: "breath, air wind"
(My big Catechism says)
A comforting thought
tumble, little tumbleweed
come play ‘round my feet
I’ll dote my cares upon you
midst tenderness, replete
tumble, little tumbleweed
until you've found a place
devote time to appreciate
the treasures you embrace
tumble, little tumbleweed
dance your wonders, wild
tho’ I call you tumbleweed
you’re but my dearest child
tumble, little tumbleweed
learn and dream and grow
I'll love you thru the Evers
though I will watch you go
tumble, little tumbleweed
strong and straight and true
now I must let you tumble on
please kiss me, sweet, adieu
tumble, little tumbleweed …
tumble.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, December 1, 2022
( for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren )