Long Daddy Poems
Long Daddy Poems. Below are the most popular long Daddy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daddy poems by poem length and keyword.
There's this special day that comes once a year
A day for that someone you hold so near
A day where one's age increments by one
A day when you're greeted by everyone
It's the day when you're the talked about 'who'
It's that day when the spotlight is on you
It's that day you receive various greetings
It's that day you can't seem to stop smiling
This is when you express much gratitude
A day that proves that you are much valued
A day where food's simple or luxuriant
There's a dish or two, or even variants
A person then counts to serve as a cue
A day they sing "Happy Birthday to you"
A day I thank God for another year
A year He's added for my daddy dear
“A bun’s in the oven,” Daddy had said.
I heard him while spying under the stair.
He said it so softly to Uncle Ted
I barely could hear him as I hid there.
“Yep, the rabbit died, but I’m kind of glad!
A bun’s in the oven,” Daddy had said.
I wondered why Daddy wouldn’t be sad
to find out this rabbit he spoke of was dead!
Ted said, “You have too much fun in your bed.”
I was confused when my uncle said THAT.
“A bun’s in the oven, “ Daddy had said,
then added, “Annie’s afraid she’ll get fat.”
Fat from a bun that was in our oven?
Dad said, “keep this secret.” Ted bobbed his head,
then laughed, “You sure get plenty of lovin’!”
“A bun’s in the oven,” Daddy had said.
Dec. 8, 2017 for Lewis Raynes' "A Special Secret" Poetry Contest
We grew up listening to the same conversations
We were introduced to the same ideas, and ideals
Our background was absolute and firm. Christianity is the only way
Daddy did not agree, but Mom ruled us twins and our world
We both married young, my sister settled in a similar place
Where people believed in one way, one opinion, one language.
They did not worry about Kwanzal, Chanukah or New Age views
They were content, and agreeable with each other.
I attended psychic fairs, studied the tarot, runes, spirit animals
I was beginning to agree with Daddy’s “odd views” He can astral travel.
Mom would say things like this to him as he left for his pretend church
“Say a whoopee doo for me, but don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”
My sis has different spiritual beliefs, different ideas, and diverse values.
My social page is filled up of Republicans, Democrats and Liberals.
Her social page is full of hatred for all Democrats and all Liberals.
And me, her identical twin sister, the most liberal person on the planet?
We used to be extremely close, enjoying the same things.
We raised our children in different ways, and we rarely speak.
I adore her, and I know she loves me
We used to share our ideas and our life daily.
Now we barely talk once a month.
And I am the one who dials the phone.
It is rather sad.
For lunch in my zoo, they did not sell hot dogs. Instead we had dot hogs for lunch. When it comes to eating dots, I think I am the biggest hog. Yummy, I love dots.
Instead of drinking chocolate milk for lunch, we had mocolate chilk. I think I spilt some chilk on my new shirt. I hope it comes out in the wash.
And then for dessert instead of eating cotton candy we had – well, I guess we had cotton candy, too. Those words sound the same when you play my imaginary game.
Next, instead of going to see a hippopotamus, in my zoo we went to see a pippohotamus. I had a hard time saying the name of that animal.
I know that some zoos have caves with flying bats. My imaginary zoo had a cave with bye-ing flats. They were very thin and only knew how to say, “Good-bye”, even when they meant to say, “Hello.” That’s silly.
In my imaginary zoo I did not see any hopping toads. But there were a lot of topping hoads. The hoads were stacked up twenty feet high. Each hoad was trying to get on top.
Many zoos have lions and tigers and bears, oh my. But my zoo did not. My zoo had bions and ligers and tears – mo hi.
Some zoos I know have lots of swimming dolphins. My imaginary zoo had lots of dimming swolphins. Mommy and Daddy always get mad when I play with the light dimmer in our living room. But the swolphins were turning the lights up and down without even getting in trouble.
My Mommy walked by and saw that I was still sitting on the naughty spot and she said, “Oh, Baby, are you still sitting here? You don’t have to sit here any more. You can get up.”
I told my Mommy I was sorry for stomping my feet. I told her I was sorry for making faces and yelling at her and Daddy.
She said, “I accept your apology.” Then she said, “And, I am sorry for not giving you a direct answer to your question. Daddy and I looked at the calendar and we can go to the zoo next Saturday.”
I said, “That’s okay Mommy, I already went to the zoo. Maybe we can go to the beach instead.”
Mommy laughed. And, I laughed too.
Ever been love,
Ever been love
Ever been broken Hearted
Yes
You're human
Yes, you're hurting
Yes, you're infallible
But just relax "GOD'S GOT YOU"
Ever been destitute
Ever been turnt lose
Ever seen your daddy cry
Have you asked mama why or why
Yes
You're human
Yes, you're hurting
Yes, you're infallible
But don't just relax "GOD'S GOT YOU"
Ever been impoverished
Ever been Holy kiss
Ever been witness
Imagine this...
So when things go wrong
When you're not feeling strong
When you just decided
No long can fight it...
Remember
Yes
You're human
Yes, you're hurting
Yes, you're infallible
But don't just relax "GOD'S GOT YOU"
8/1/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019
From forth coming anthology "Old Gospel Songs Sung"
Happy Birthday Daddy
Well tomorrow is your birthday
It's been a long, long time
I was 21 when you left
Your Canadian's age younger than mine
She hasn't lost her humor
And can yet sooth a tearful soul
With her unexpected wisdom
She is so much like you we know
You suffered and I remember
And still recall you there
Gentle, and still humorous.
While deep grieving you did bear
You were to the opinion of others
Loving and so kind
Although you saw their atrosities
You pretended to be blind
I so miss your vocals and harmonica
You so skillfully entertained
A sailor, a soldier, a patriot
You stood tall in the face of pain
How enchanting and romantic was your playful way
I miss your presence, Daddy
That lite up the dismal day
I recall how you scorned judgement
And how you accepted all
As they were created
You overlooked many a mistake and flaw
The Whitehead is still breathing
Your personality
She is the rock we younger lean on
To capture your memory
The Scotsman well you know quite well
She's made it and you can be proud
Because she forged her own path as you did
She never followed the crowd
And your blood flows through these veins of mine
Although no eye can see
And 'tis proud I am the Irishman
A reflection of your father's eccentricity
Feb. 13, 2016
This open letter I share to my dear Soupers,
Especially written for the most special muses I have found.
I dedicate this piece from the depth of my soul.
To most brilliant and exquisite poets here in site.
To Poet Destroyer a.k.a. Linda,
Your poem "Daddy" changed a view in my life.
I'm a tamed little tigress when I first came in site.
So afraid to post a collective words from my mind.
When I read your poem, it suddenly changed my life!
It's a free verse form, taught me that writing isn't that hard.
I can freely spread my wings then reach the sky.
It taught me how to use the ink inside my heart.
I saw the lighter side of you.
A loving heart, a real you.
Some of your slams show off your angst.
In "Daddy's poem", you won The Oscar's.
Linda, in half of a year I spend with you,
I'd like to tell how much I awe you,
You are the star that lit my night.
You are the muse that keeps me write.
To my dearest highness poet, Nette...
I can't still find the right adjective that suits you best.
Your "Kiss from Heaven" moved me away.
It opened my eyes to what a poetry really means.
Your words are extraordinary,unique and passionate.
It invites me to go down deeper, explore the world beneath.
You showed me a different ways to use an ink.
Then lead me to a magical and wondrous place within.
Thank you for being an inspiration,
The wind beneath my wings.
The best poet I look up with.
The one that I respect and treasured as friend.
You two are like fuel to my soul.
You help me keep going inspite of sorrow.
You show me the world behind these walls,
You refill my pen to create a poem.
I recognized the hand immediately
Daddy never used cursive
He dropped out of school in eighth grade.
He always printed.
Maybe he forgot cursive?
His blocky dark blue letters were put painstakingly onto a page.
He wrote his memoirs more than once.
Having Alzheimer’s in the end, he forgot what he had already written.
The pages are a bit faded now, but the penmanship is Daddy’s.
He is braggadocio about the southside gang.
His pals and he.shooting rats in the city dump and chasing cats
their exploits captured for anyone who chooses to read about them.
My twin sister and I are probably the only two who ever will.
I doubt our children will be interested.
They never have been.
They haven’t even read my exploits.
Which I write daily.
I begin to read, recognizing most of the words.
As I have read this notebook many times since his death in 2014.
A place I know so well, I could never get lost.
These back roads and highways a thousand times I've crossed.
I walk them in my dreams, sometimes I even fly!
The joy of being home, the sorrow of goodbye.
I could never feel this way about stone! Wooden beams and timbre will never make a home.
It's my Momma and my Daddy, my kin and all my friends…it's the people that I love, I make my home with them.
It's the scent of fresh pine needles carpeting the ground,
The gurgle of the creek out back, I can still hear that sound.
It's the way when I wake up, I know just where I am…if home for you is love, you can always go home again.
Home is grandma's rhubarb pie, though she can't make it anymore. But she gave the recipe to me and now, honey it's yours. Daddy can no longer play and sing the songs we grew up on, but I remember every word and I'm passing them along.
No, I could never feel this way about stone! Wooden beams and timbre will never make a home.
It's my Momma and my Daddy, my kin and all my friends…it's the people that I love, I make my home with them.
It's the scent of fresh pine needles carpeting the ground,
The gurgle of the creek out back, I can still hear that sound.
It's the way when I wake up, I know just where I am…if home for you is love, you can always go home again.
Yea, “Country Roads will take me home to the place I belong”…cause if home for you is love…you can always go home again.
All work and no play
May have made Matt
A dull boy
All no work and no God
Has Matt with a lost soul
But he is moving on full steam
He is chasing the South African dream
He is going to give his family
The finer things
Not this time Belle
I have no time to waste
Maybe tomorrow
We'll have time to play
Then he slips into his new VW
He drives farther and farther away
Coz' he works all day
And tries to sleep at night
He says that things will get better
better in time
He works and he builds
With his own two hands
And poured all that he had
Into a castle made with sand
But the wind and the rain
Come crashing it in
Time will tell
How long his kingdom stand
This South African dream
Seems more and more like a nightmare
With every passing day
Daddy can I have a Hauwei
Oh let me know
If you're working late
Another wasted weekend
And they are slipping away
Coz He works all day
And lies awake at night
He tells himself things will get better with time
They use to say that who live or die
With the most toys win
But when it losses its soul
Now that is a gain in the end
I will take a shack on a rock
Over castle in the sand
Coz he works all day
And lies alone at night
It seem that
he is running out of time
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