Christmas Father Daughter Poems | Examples
These Christmas Father Daughter poems are examples of Father Daughter poems about Christmas. These are the best examples of Father Daughter Christmas poems written by international poets.
You apologize over and over,
Yet do it again cold shoulder.
In church every Sunday saying you’re a “righteous” man,
But at home you’re the devil’s right hand man.
It’s crazy how your so smart and calculated with liquor,
Yet you didn’t even graduate high school no paper.
You had jobs that paid well
Now you’re jobless cause of the lies you tell.
How foolish of you
When you were younger what did you want to do with your life?
It doesn’t matter because you’re just a man addicted to liquor.
You’re sick not just in the head but all over.
I hate giving you the cold shoulder.
But you caused this don’t try play Bob the builder
You can’t fix this.
You always ask what do you want for Christmas
You assume money.
But I want more than that I want my childhood back.
She crawled into her father’s lap...her lips were quivering...
there were teardrops in her eyes
“Some kids say they don’t believe in Santa...
they say it’s all a pack of lies.”
She looked at him with innocent eyes...
that snowy Christmas Eve...
and asked him quite directly...
“Daddy! What do you believe?”
“Oh, I believe in Santa.” he answered,
“As sure as I believe in you.
I believe in miracles and Karma
I believe fairy tales do come true.”
“I believe in love and friendship.
I believe in kindness and family.
I believe in God and fairies and angels
I believe in wonder and destiny.”
“I believe a higher power created the planets...
the stars, the sky, the sun.
I believe in the spirit of love
I believe there’s good in everyone.”
“I believe we should listen to the animals
I believe there’s magic in moonbeams
I believe that art is all around us
I believe in the beauty of our dreams...”
“As he looked down she was sleeping in his arms
which gave him some relief.
“And when I look at you.” he whispered...
I believe I’m blessed...beyond belief.”
My morning pierces my awake with grief’s thrust -
hitting me anew with the truth that he is gone.
Rising, I stagger thru cloudy bruises of disbelief
that I will never again be in his presence,
but must lifelong hold the need inside of grief.
I hear sobs break like tortured, soft tenders
and realize it’s me giving in to how hard this is.
Neither my feet or mind have concerns to move,
yet my child may need me to endure thru
Christmas do’s as I have always done before.
How do I move thru the most poignant day to miss
Dad, so prime in all past Christmas memories crafted?
In my life as infant, toddler, child, teen and woman,
he ensured magical Christmas moments.
I feel I’m drowning and trying to cope under water
where sadness-strikes stab one after the other.
He was just newly sixty-seven years,
yet already needed more in God’s heaven.
The one thought I grab is as a Christmas prayer that
I ever recall him as clearly as my heart feels him today.
... CayCay Jennings
December 14, 2018
He sat and waited, hours long
There upon the old park bench
Bitter cold made fingers clench
Singing, soft, her favorite song
His little girl was bound to come
Chance she was delayed by snow
(Trains were often running slow)
Still, his feet were getting numb
Many months he'd not seen her
Daughter, Cadence, now just six
A distance gifts would surely fix
Winter garments trimmed in fur
Toys as well, to make her smile
A teddy bear and puzzles, too
Wrapped in paper, pink and blue
Her mom would bring her in a while
Yet ... many times they'd come and been
Awaiting HIM through hours long
Now, excuses all were gone ...
He'd never get the chance ... again.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "The Park Bench At Christmas" Poetry Contest, Sara Kendrick, Judge & Sponsor.
* I used photograph number four. *
My seven-month-old daughter, beside herself
with swirling fascination, has unfolded
her tiny arm a bridge for Christmas elves’
safe passage, unconcerned she’s being scolded
by Papa Grinch - who’s clacking away at this.
From my perspective on the less-festive couch,
I cannot see her sparkling eyes witness
magical animation, but I’ll vouch
something’s ‘bout to go down, based on a smile
and ding-a-ling giggles; her angelic face
lit up as though nutcrackers march awhile
icicles melt the seams of man-made space
where a dad’s unaware this innocent time
(just for me) gift wraps Naomi’s holiday crime.
11/30/2018
Dear Father Christmas, just one wish I ask of you this year,
The same request as ever but you just don't seem to hear.
It's not that I'm ungrateful for the gifts which you provide;
I open them excitedly with Daddy by my side.
We loved the model railway and the garden cricket set,
The bow and arrow were a hit as was the football net.
And sharing time with Daddy makes me feel so warm inside.
He's always been there for me since the day that Mummy died.
He reads me bedtime stories followed by a goodnight prayer
My Daddy is so thoughtful and surrounds me with such care.
But please remember Santa, to include upon your sled
A baby doll to cuddle as he tucks me up in bed.
03/10/18
‘A poem of reaction poetry contest‘ : sponsored by Julia Ward
What to Submit?
One original poem on the theme of a little girl without a doll.
"Thought the saddest day of my life, was the Christmas day I lost my wife"
"But I soon found out it wasn't close"
"I lost my daughter who I loved the most"
"Everyone told me please, please try "
"All I could do was sit and cry"
"Never left my house, Day or Night"
"All my friends said, that' not right
"Go outside, breathe some clean fresh air
"Didn't want to, Didn't care"
"I just wanted to really die"
"Be with my family in the blue sky"
Her father gave her a burial blot
(Not jewellery or clothes or a yacht!)
When Debbie’s interred low
Will they add a gift bow
Still for now it’s a gift she’ll boycott!
I read this article on-line from the ‘Mirror’ newspaper and I couldn’t resist writing a limerick about it.
I would have loved to see her face when she was told what she had been given!
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/my-dad-bought-burial-plot-11688469
12/27/17
Christmas Day
Pa threw all my new toys away
Now my friends won’t want to come and play
Cos I was naughty yesterday
Suddenly
All the gifts disappeared from ‘neath the tree
Now the carpet’s bare for all to see
Pa snapped at me so suddenly
Why I had to drown our old cat
I cannot say
She fell in the loo so I flushed
the cat awayyyyyyyyyyy
Christmas Day
Pa threw all my new toys away
Santa delivered them on his red sleigh
But when Pa is mad, there’s no leeway
Purely Fictional write inspired by hearing Yesterday on the radio
09-11-17
Father and daughter
Sitting together
All their worries
Light as a feather
Making a chain
For Christmas Day
That counts the days that remain
Everything seems as it’s perfect
Because for that amount of time
Everything is perfect
For neither of them realize
There isn’t much time
Till the perfection dies
They’re so naive
Unknowing
That what they have
Will be destroyed
Neither know
What heartbreak awaits
What chaos and pain is yet to come
For that may be their last moment
Together in perfection
~10/20/17
Christmas day appear,
a bright youthful soul,
receive every toy I yearn for,
you occur in my soul,
while I shred each present apart,
a resentful patient moment
Expected thee to call
“I waited, and waited!”
the phone rings somebody else
Played with my toys near hopelessness
other kids celebrating with their pops
view in the distance, tear spill
Dusk approach
standing on the doorstep
telephone rings
mom yell telephone!
my heart skip a rhythm
tears from happiness
flow down my face
a greeting from daddy
emotions converted to bliss
At the end of each day,
I'd stare out the window and wait,
For daddy to arrive,
With his smiling eyes.
His truck pulls up,
In front of the house,
He walks slowly,
And enters rendering fatigue.
His tired eyes were bright this morning,
Now express exhaustion.
I rush to greet him,
And give him a kiss,
And to my surprise ,
His eyes are sparkling like Christmas lights.
The years have passed,
And Daddy is now old,
Alzheimer's has taken control,
He doesn't remember much anymore.
Daddy now lives with me,
And waits for me to come home.
In his own world,
He feels sad and alone.
He's sitting on the porch,
And sees me approach.
He again has those smiling eyes,
And says, Oh it's you honey,
Just seeing your face, now I'm okay.
©2016 by Lee Christine Brownlee
You know those bright paper packages
the ones tied with fancy ribbons
the ones you promised me at Christmas
and on my last however many birthdays
I never opened any of them-you know why
don't pretend you don't know what I mean
turn your head and stare out the window
walk away from me like you always did
Call yourself a father-your other kids do
I don't claim you as mine any more
I'm walking away from you this time
my unopened gifts-you never sent them