Death Father Daughter Poems | Examples
These Death Father Daughter poems are examples of Father Daughter poems about Death. These are the best examples of Father Daughter Death poems written by international poets.
I had worn the hat almost to death
It was a fishing cap, with a picture
Cannot remember what the picture was now
it had worn off a long time ago
It had fallen in the lake several times
but I always retrieved it, because it was green
My favorite color, and it had been my Daddy’s
It used to smell like him.
The seams had split, and the brim was peeling
It had slashes in it, as if it had been knifed
I am sure it was at least fifty years old
I kept it until it no longer smelled like Daddy.
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
The arrival of his departure
(A numb and cruel upheaval starter)
was an emotional core rupture;
a visual goodbye to my father.
I saw his final, last inhale
that would never flow to release.
I saw his life light fade to pale
before leaving to forever peace.
In time, I joyously came to know
his essence was such a strong force,
he could bend love air to a flowing echo
and sound it when I needed him most.
I feel sure my father's echo has limits.
Souls exist in spirit realms, so echo assists
must be supremely granted gifts.
At times I feel soak in the depths his visit.
dreaming daughter ascends starlit harbor....
to her father's biding love
he is as she remembered....jovial in the
way he was on earth
they embrace in the twilight....stars fill
their tearful moonlight eyes
navy dad once....now on god's deployment
awaits final reunion
Butting heads, locking horns
the difficult child of three
if anyone was causing grief
It was always going to be me,
a stubborn chip
from a stubborn old block
never at ease we two
so I left and made a life for myself
far from the one you knew,
you pushed too hard to tie me down
I went and you felt betrayed,
you never saw my need to go
I could never see why you stayed
ever his little girl ...
she knew her daddy, suitably
the demons, the defeats, the drudgery and dreams
(dreams, deep and delirious,
as substances imposed)
no year of hers was
sans disappointment or broken vow
his life - a Stradivarius without a master hand
the edge of creative brilliance,
rusted by tears …
potential of a rare and exquisite temper
ravaged by emotional paralysis and chemic parody
little to redeem, and naught
meant for pride
still …
love saw fit to hold his hand, cooling
as his last breath left the day
only her lips, the grace ...
to kiss his eyes.
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.
For sadness screams in a chasm
Tears hidden in a creviced stare
Prayers praise a doubted God
Words sting a shrinking soul
Death itself will mourn
For those who can’t
A cold sunrise
Will darken time
Its shadow
A lost sunset
©7/21/2023
We live in the perfume of our sweet love each day
Its scent adorns me with each sachet fragrant ray
Why, in a gas oven, dear Sylvia,
did you stick your pretty, middle-class head?
Was the life of upper suburbia
too much for you that you'd rather be dead?
If, like you, we gassed ourselves to death at thirty,
we'd never forgive ourselves for leaving
behind our children. We'd feel unworthy,
and selfish for causing them much grieving.
But, at eight, you witnessed your father's demise;
and bore for life an emotional scar
(which you never were able to exorcise),
a grief which you relived in “The Bell Jar.”
You should not be condemned, dear Sylvia,
for we knew not your melancholia—.
I walk amidst the lonely path and cry
I will never see my dad since he died
Think, how I never said my last goodbye
Gazing up I see birds flying, I stride
In one direction, they swoop towards his grave
Bending down on my knees, I kneel down; pray
Wishing that I could be the one to save
Moving thoughts like clouds, that I can’t convey
There is only one direction we face
Oneness in the Creator the Sublime
Facing our mistakes, we are all disgraced
Now, I fall down to the ground then I climb
Loneliness sharpens my senses clearly
Standing amidst the lonely path, I wept
Free as a mockingbird singing
No kids in sight and unmarried
Had one husband, but now none
Colleges broaden my horizon
Learning about the world
Heartache and heartbreak
Lost in the frenzy of despair
To death and grief
Lost the grip of my father's clasped hand
Visualizing roses tossed in the air
High School graduation day
Drawing pictures in the IRS building
Clasping my father's hand firmly
It's take your daughter to work day
Ears clear with clarity
As my mother sings me to sleep
A horizon of toys block my view
In my cradle fast asleep
~*~
Nippy break of day
Total unexpected loss
Father daughter gone
~*~
January 26, 2020
1:30pm PST
English Haiku 5/7/5
Take death back
The doctor's objective
review
Argues and
life skills
Take death back
Death involves a loss
Essential treatment,
whatever price?
The ballad of life
Take death back
One last act
on one's existence
overwhelming
The vulnerable situation
always an uncertainty
Take death back
Life's rowing boat, without oars
Free entrance
Not today, not tomorrow
not this month
Life ...
- with death on hold
Take death back
I'm not ready
to say goodbye
... dad
The doctor's last answer :
... "Sorry
... there's no more we can do"
03/12/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I will never ever forget
that haunted look
in her huge blue eyes
She was only four years old ...
an innocent child
who witnessed her beloved daddy
fall to the floor and die
After the trauma of his death
she never spoke another word
Written for Haunted Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Sadly this a true story of a little girl called Jacqueline who attended the pre-school I worked in, even after all these years I have never forgotten the haunted look in her eyes.
9/26/19