The gravity of her question turning my insides brown
Her seeking the truth slowly destroying my fragile crown
I gasped for air trying to compose myself
How do I tell a child that her mother has been taken, a truth so heavy buried in our darkest shelf
Her only crime was raising her voice
How could she be equal to the great man who runs our life
To defy the every being of an egoistical clan
I uttered the most dreadful words in our land
"Your voice is a truth the world needs, my dear"
She grinned from ear to ear
Knowing deep down the lies I told for her to live another year
If only I could muster the courage to challenge the blatant atrocities,
Slowly eyes wandering to my inflicted permanent disabilities
Questioning everyone who claims to be the beacon of peace
Deep down still hoping for the suffering to ease
A daughter can help you find important things when you need them
Things like your smile, your hope & your lost souls rhythm
Having a daughter in your life is something to truly treasure
Her absence would break times
every measure
A baas boy longing for his family uses the Morning Star as a point of reference and a guide for hope.
A Star/Steer poem
The distant star my guiding light shines down
on fields of labor hard and long.
A thousand miles from where my love is sown
I trace its beam and hum a silent song.
It knows the path my weary feet steer back
to the faces I hold so dear.
Does the same star watch over them tonight?
My wife,my children dreaming in the dark.
I pray it keeps them safe till morning light
and leaves upon their hearts a gentle mark.
I promise I'll journey home once more,
Sit with them on our humble floor.
Daughter;
who does too much, works too hard;
has nothing to prove.
She wondered what would happen ~
Winter upon us and war still raging...
Would life ever be normal?
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Passionate:
Fiery passion burns,
Within her free spirit borne;
Lovely flaming heart.
Pity the fool locking gaze,
Cinder left - her path ablaze.
Beautiful:
Striking beauty she,
Always lovely with to be;
Her frolicking soul.
Laughter follows ev'ry move,
Dancing - eating all her food.
Wise:
Old wisdom resides,
A lady young with blue eyes;
Discerning what's true.
Not so gentle insight to,
Those in need of tough love - truth.
Through My Porch Door Window. By Tania Kitchin
Ever the faint of heart gets lost unto themselves and dine,
Ever the moon does wane where in her light fades out dark night,
Ever the wind does blow away sorrow of a fools plight,
Ever the sun rise' up to greet morning's new breath so bright,
Even the man who sings his one daughter to sleep and dream,
Even the man who cares endless to see her go care free,
Even the man who longs to see the glint her eyes do gleam,
Even the man who's hurt her heart before can be redeemed,
Ever the bark of the old tree stands firm wrinkled and wise,
Ever the leaves may fall to give room for new life to rise,
Ever the roots go deep down in the earth to drink her sighs,
Ever the fruit that's ripe and falls to give new hope arise,
Even the man who molts his skin to give way to new life,
Ever the man who's hurt who's loved can let go of his strife.
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.
The shimmering rill stones
The clear babbling waters
The yellow meadow flowers
Dancing in the breezy dawn
He passed this way, he passed away
As thus, the bearded years pass on
The buried bones
The grieving daughters
Passing years fade like hours
On the grassy knoll, a memorial stone
Wreathed with yellow flowers
Below the hill
Lay his daughters still
In everlasting silent repose
The passing years fade like hours
Upon their graves, each; a yellow rose
None to hear them sing
None to marvel their glittered wing
As they’d lay midst, the meadow flowers
The passing years fade like hours
But they still remember
The morning dove, flying
And mortal love, undying
My father my friend,
My teacher my preacher,
My comfort and security.
When I was a child he used to take me sailing on Lake Erie.
It was so awesome to be in the presence of this great man.
Quiet, intelligent always teaching by example.
I put him on a pedestal and he never fell.
My father my friend
Always there for me
No matter how hard.
Never a question or look, always helping me to cope.
When I was a child I used to watch him carefully cut stained glass.
Cutting and soldering creating these beautiful colorful lamps.
He was an artist and extremely smart.
He gave me my values he gave me my start.
My father my friend
I will always love you and you will always love me.
Even if I can’t see you or hear you, I feel you.
You talk to me but not verbally.
Everything we’ve ever done together
Everything about you
I am you
Thank you!
Lost her first tooth today
Daddy kisses baby girl’s crocodile tears away
~ Adorable little smile breaks through
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
My father passed.
I wanted him to stay but god won.
I can’t complain.
We had him longer than we could have thought.
He was awesome!
He was my friend.
He was the best father a girl could have had
Right to the end.
I miss him so.
I cried so hard.
And then really loud, not me, but in my head.
He played for me our favorite piece Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
It was overloud but good.
It calmed me.
The music petted me and held me close.
Yes now, you know.
The undulating and waxing and waning.
High tide low tide.
This horrible necessary wave of knowing.
You want to so much, but you cannot hide.
Eventually this cruel acceptance slowly leaks inside.
And what’s left, I will take, the willingness to know.
That what I have left is the chance.
I might maybe see him again.
I can only hope.
It wasn’t easy being raised by a single parent—
let alone being Time’s daughter.
Her dad was never around,
although his presence lingered—
always, everywhere, with everyone—
seldom, if ever, with her.
And so, she waited.
She had no memory—no photos—
no staple comfort of longing to snuggle.
Just the odd story
she had memorized into a fantasy.
Born out of wedlock—she had thought—
a product of a one-night stand came to mind,
one that had lasted longer than it should have—
a salacious moment not frozen in Time.
The sound of an immaculate conception
gave birth to the celation of his daughter.
She just waited for her Time—to arrive—
on the step,
or by the terrapin hour
displayed on her utopian wristwatch.
Truth had never been an easy playmate.
Time had run out—
no one had told her.
I see the number 158, and I smile
it was the store number of my favorite manager
Once upon a time I was the bookkeeper for ten Super Valu Stores
He was my favorite, because I used to work for him when I was sixteen.
He is gone now, but when I see the number, I think of him and smile.
He died really young, at forty-two, which I thought was old then.
A pink cardinal flies down into my car’s view as I drive up my hill.
It’s a cheery hello from my mother. She had a tablecloth with pink cardinals.
I would have loved to have had it, but my sister took it right off.
My sister had taken care of my mother in the end, so I said nothing.
Glad one of us got it.
The dogs are barking at the woods when I stop the car.
For one second, I see my daddy.
He is usually seen in a blip out the corner of an eye.
He has supposedly been gone for thirteen years.
When I put my coat into my closet I reach for Daddy's’ plaid jacket.
It still smells like him.
I say “Hi, Daddy.”
I feel him here.
Specific Types of Father Daughter Poems
Read wonderful father daughter poetry on the following sub-topics:
beautiful, birthday, bond, christian, christmas, death, funeral, love, missing you, proud, relationship, step, wedding
and more.
Definition | What is Father Daughter in Poetry?