Family Father Poems | Examples
These Family Father poems are examples of Father poems about Family. These are the best examples of Father Family poems written by international poets.
The Visitor
He pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside.
Dust filtered his
nostrils,
a mustiness of lost years
inhabited his senses.
A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell,
the aroma
of her Chanel provoked memories
of his
living hell.
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at his feet
He switched on the light
"Hello son
I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."
Father Wally
Mother Molly
Daughter Polly
Sister Holly
Play Dolly
Son Solly
Dog Collie
Rain Brolly
Shopping Trolley
Mistaken Folly
Jeshua Holy
Atheist Unholy
Good morning son.
There has never been a day like this day.
May you face it gladly, come what may
We mortals make many things from clay,
But only God Almighty can make a day;
The same God who made the mana.
So, my dear son.
Let the sunlight shine upon your soul,
As the wind of God blows away those
Dark and dreary clouds of grey.
Love you,
Dad
I saw you for the first time today as a lady.
You were sitting in the sand in the late day sun,
Your face framed by the broad-brimmed hat.
You smiled so beautifully under that,
That even your father could see the lady inside.
I saw you for the first time on your birth day.
And I thought I’d never seen a song til then.
But angels whispered and parents prayed
So fervently that angst was stayed.
And the Father blessed the lady inside.
I saw you for the first time as a woman.
It had somehow not occurred to me til then.
That you could have a life apart from me
Or anything other than this family.
But even fathers, someday, must see the lady inside.
He stands beside his child
the way a tree stands beside its shadow~
not owning it,
not shaping it,
but offering a place to grow
in the shelter of his presence.
The boy leans in,
trust quiet as breath,
as if he already knows
that the world is easier to face
when a father’s steadiness
is close enough to touch.
There is no need for words.
Love moves in the small distances~
the space between two hands,
the tilt of a shoulder,
the soft gravity that pulls
one life toward another.
On Father's Day
what matters most
is not the weight of legacy
or the echo of a family name,
but the simple truth
that a child stands taller~
when a father stands near.
Co-leader keeping a family strong;
Hopes, dreams, and goals he helps nurture along.
Wise guidance coupled with a firm handshake;
Sharing advice about which paths to take.
A dad is all of this and much more, too;
Helps son(s), daughter(s) find what they want to do.
From son’s crib time to her walk down the aisle;
A father’s presence is there all the while.
Whether shoulder rides or trying out sports;
A father takes on roles of many sorts.
A servant-leader living as he should;
He helps his family and neighborhood.
Through life skills he helps others self-direct;
Showing them love, honor, and self-respect.
Bringing out the best in those he reaches;
Through patience, love, and the things he teaches.
A man most loved and hated
For life you cared for after being berated
A man of honor or whatever
Teaching, telling you things with valor
or surrender
Hide and seek you grow and forget
Every tear you shed and regret
Relief in your sorrows
Forging a mark in you that follows
On special occasions you missed the same
man
Rejoicing or mourning alone
like a sandman
Left under the Sun that churns
In your body that warms and spurns
Feels like you're a hero or "Super"
when guided
Every step you take, you breathe
as molded and guarded!
My family, not grand but warm and bright,
Bathed in faith, trust, love and long lasting light
With my spouse the linchpin, the centre stage,
A shining grand-daughter, eight years of age,
The apple of eye of the family,
A daughter-in-law, teaching happily,
Elder son dipped in programming passion,
A young one, with management attraction,
With all under my soft supervision,
Making four walls a home free from tension.
She was there
waiting
with the child;
she was, each day.
He didn’t know;
in isolation.
He had killed
paid the price
now they do.
“He’s the black sheep of our family,”
Said Father speaking of his son
Before him to the Watkins man
Who no doubt forgot it
Before his next customer.
Father liked the line
Repeated it to his son’s favorite uncle,
His mother and a few friends.
Their laughter stung.
Still none seemed to remember.
Father got bored—dropped the line.
Twenty years later denied
He’d said it.
The son, poor fellow, never forgot—
Told me the story as he expired.
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.
Happy Heavenly Father’s Day, Dad … I miss you like a ghost misses heartbeats … all my love.
~
midst all of heaven's blessings
my treasures, known and had
not one can best the miracle
that fate made you ... my dad.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author and family )
My dad had thirteen siblings
worked for every thing he ever got
many hand-me-downs but no handouts
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
They filed his blood beneath a numbered case—
the marrow went to war without a call.
The VA counted cells, not what took place
in basements where his stare could split the wall.
The cancer knew his secrets—mutiny
against Guam’s humid silence, its red debt
claimed as the twenty-one guns thoomed in key.
We stood. We nodded. No one cried. Not yet.
There’s money now, for toxin’s wrongful death,
Agent Orange crusading through his bones.
But not for years of learning that a breath
is held—not for the legacy of tones.
They pay for what his blood became, not how
it taught us all to disappear. Lie down.
His days he spent pleasantly
as befit his soft upbringing
running the family business
counting the money pouring in
leaving the real work to his brother
One day their father passed –
deciding to attend the burial
he was startled to see a rabbi presiding
father was not Jewish, was he
Does that mean, he wondered –
could it be that I’m Jewish
But he dismissed the preposterous thought
buried it deep in his conscience