Short Fatherhood Poems
Short Fatherhood Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Fatherhood by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Fatherhood by length and keyword.
the child is father of the man
...got that right
...my kids taught me how to become one
Is it wrong that I'm not the
average man
look for fatherhood and to
wear a wedding band
Biggest weakness that i have
I'm way too sensitive
The difference is
its fuels my purpose for the
bigger plan
beautiful gift
lord has given me;
enriching my life again...
second daughter to dote on!
so thankful I am,
every day; fatherhood is...
d i v i n e!
Jimmy was in his seventies
And took himself a young wife
His biggest concern was fatherhood
At his time of life
“What birth control would you suggest?
Which would be best for me?”
He asked his doctor, who replied
“I think in your case, nudity”
Form:
a man is made of masculine virtues
coming into fatherhood
sharing with his wife
mutual support in family and marriage
developing is one of life's experiences
our lives eventually coming to natual end
God takes us from this world and leaves
our memory in return
Fatherhood is a serious job,
There is no time to slack off or to be a slob,
It requires tenacity and due diligence,
Indifference could cause children to be
plagued with all sorts of pestilence,
Fathers have to be stalworth and strong
in order to keep their children
from doing wrong.
Where sky meets ocean and air meets water,
and these two approach land,
a novice surfer
glides ever sideways along the borderline
between the graceful, smooth glass of intention,
and the turbulent, chaotic crash of execution.
This eternal moment is called life.
In love, it is called marriage or fatherhood.
Times oh how they change,
strange..
Alone for so long
now promised,
in love.
Eight weeks in,
after our seeded exchange..
Entering the ranks of fatherhood,
am I ready?
I have no choice..
Full of joy,
want a girl before a boy
you can tell I am excited,
can you hear the change within my voice?
Jared Pickett
5/17/2011
Asavvy1
Six children alive and sired
Fathering three and tired
The other three reject me
A traitor in me, they see
Married once; now again
My sanity to regain
At what cost to the kingdom
My rejection of martyrdom
The natural man waxes and wanes
The spiritual man rises to higher planes
I asked for as many as the stars
To assuage my emotional scars
The motherhood like the earth
Like seeds we get the birth
The fatherhood like the sky
Like birds who have forgot to fly
The brotherhood like the stars
Like hearts left with no scars
The sisterhood like the moon
Like souls sleeping in noon
The teachers like the sun
Like days all about the fun
The childhood like summer
Like all worries down in slumber
The “S” upon my chest
Started fading as they grew older
The infallibility of their Dad
Became a myth as they got bolder
Suddenly I was out of touch
And couldn’t comprehend the simplest things
Thinking they knew so much more than me
Is what their pubescent stages brings
I was a boob when they went to college
Then they started families of their own
The circle has since become complete
Father is wise again now that their grown
Two taps in an oval, ceramic mold
(time pause of my playful, jittery tot)
were set to dry and decorated bold,
placed with care in a rustling garden plot.
Fresh blooms surround, abounding with vigor
like children's laughter, sunshine's pulse and rain.
His feet fast extend, toes growing bigger,
yet small remain his precious footprints twain.
5-2-2021
"Footprints" Old or New for a Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caroline Devonshire
Fathers are familiar with their children
Attitudes of responsility are mandated
Teaching is best learned from modeling
Heaven painted perfect fatherhood pictures
Every action and word should be weighed
Respect can be demanded when earned
Heroes of children should be their parents
Offering prayers for our children is a must
Obligations to kids should never be a chore
Dedicated fathering is to train and give our best
He slept here overnight after a pub crawl.
I heard him vomiting in the toilet
in the early hours.
Now he is up, hung-over
eating fried eggs sunny-side up.
I remember when he used
to crawl on the floor
baby drool hanging from his smiles.
He looks up at me now with a dopey grin.
I want to tell him both `thanks' and `sorry'
I don't know why.
Years later, `thanks' and ‘sorry'
have become blurred in my mind
with the term, 'fatherhood.'
Expectant fathers will often pace
Until nurse invites them into
A bright delivery suite
To see their baby born;
Before they see birth
Of their newborn,
Some are out
Cold on
Floor.
Soon,
Revived
Father acts
Like all is well,
Soon, is eagerly
Passing out souvenirs
Announcing their fatherhood
Like they did all of the hard work
Bringing new baby into the world!
June 11, 2021
Dedicated to my fourth great-grandchild!
Change can be so cruel
Especially during the real
Period of shredding childhood
To embrace the hug of adulthood
There is nothing more interesting
Like shaving beards
Becoming a father
Raising a child.
Change can be unkind
When childhood tears away
And the weight of adulthood
Wraps itself around your shoulders
Yet these are interesting times
The first shave of a stubborn beard
The trembling joy of fatherhood
The tender art of raising a child
He slept here overnight after a pub crawl.
I heard him vomiting in the toilet
in the early hours.
Now he is up, hung-over
eating fried eggs sunny-side up.
I remember when he used
to crawl on the floor
baby drool hanging from his smiles.
He looks up at me now with a dopey grin.
I want to tell him both `thanks' and `sorry'
I don't know why.
Years later, `thanks' and ‘sorry'
have become blurred in my mind
with the words, “fatherhood”
and “time”.
I walked away, my head forced high,
and big, bloodied chunks torn from my pride.
I mourned the loss of that half-built life,
denied the role of mother, of wife.
And all those years, advancing time,
dissolved that little dream of mine.
And it's clear: not even fatherhood
has changed you like I thought it would.
You had your turn; you walked away,
but still you're lying, still you stay.
So you observe, without reprieve,
and I thought silence made you leave.
He does not look up,
he is struggling with a vision of me
that has no roots.
The brush in his small hand
is as thick as a besom
plunged into bone-white paper.
Eyes appear,
burning with love or impatience,
hard to tell.
The outline of a too large a head,
nose, mouth, and eyes,
purple, green and red streaks
adrift in a bubble.
Today I see again
that spaced-out image,
a garish cross-eyed mask
looking this way and that,
as it searches blindly for fatherhood.
Perpetual beauty as such leaves me flawed,
It holds me in its rhythm, entranced,
My reason for, my ardour,
My pride deepens, my valour romanced.
Frozen in time, fatherhood sublime,
You hold my heart and capture my being,
You are the meaning, the reason I survive,
I will always be there for my girls, empyrean.
As the sand falls, I’ll be my all,
Until I’m gone an am nothing but dust,
I will cherish you all until I am called,
My love for you, as always robust.
Form:
It's difficult to define a father precisely
So, let's imagine how a father would be
A father may be figuratively similar to these:
A starting point, a fulcrum, a roof, a piece of land
A mountain, a sky, a star, a beam of sunshine
A lamp, a mirror, a book, a guide,a set of minds,
...
I reckon a father can be similar to each of them
if he is viewed from different perspectives
However, fatherhood will not be fairly defined
If all the pieces above aren't yet combined ?