Father Poems - Page 3

  1. 41. As A Boy

    • By Joel Miller
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems June 2008

    I just miss my dad

    Dad You Were The Best

    Well I grew up in the country.
    But things were never too bad.
    I have one person to thank.
    My always hard working dad.
    Sometimes there wasn't much for Christmas.
    But we always had something under the tree.
    At least one pair of shoes to wear all year.
    Before himself, dad always thought of me.
    I slept in a very cold room.
    Back then that's what we had to do.
    One wood heater in the living room.
    But dad's bedroom was cold too.
    We went to the grocery store once a week.
    It would always be on payday.
    Sometimes we would almost run out of food.
    Somehow dad always found a way.
    We hardly ever went on vacation.
    Maybe a quiet picnic on a summer day.
    But not too far away from home.
    Dad had worked overtime for extra pay.
    I never told you while you were here.
    Over twenty years now you have been at rest.
    You were the hardest working man I ever knew.
    And dad.......... You were the best.

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  2. 42. Dad

    •  Published by Family Friend Poems July 2007

    This poem is dedicated to who I believe was the greatness man I ever knew, my dad, and I miss him dearly Often we take advantage of people we have in our lives, not knowing what they mean to us until it's too late. Life is precious; cherish it to the fullest.

    Poem About Being Richer Than A Millionaire

    Today a great man died.
    He wasn't a world leader, a famous doctor, a war hero or even a great sports figure.
    He was no business tycoon and you would never see his name in the fortune 500.
    But he was one of the greatest men who ever walked this earth, he was my dad.
    I guess you can say he was never interested in getting any credit or receiving honors,
    He did corny things like paid his bills on time and fed the dogs.
    He never served on the P.T.A.
    But he was always there to help me with my homework.
    He got kicks on going to cookie or donut shops to read the paper.
    Dad enjoyed the simple things like going to the park with the grandkids.
    He didn't like opera; his thing was Tejano/Spanish music.
    He did all the outside housework (mowing the lawn and cleaning the yard)
    He never owned a tuxedo, and I'm sure he never tasted caviar.
    He never had a BMW or Lexus; he settled for his Toyota Celica.
    He never took handouts but was always willing to give a helping hand,
    Tonight will be my first night without him, I feel so lonesome without him.
    I'm sorry for all the times I showed disrespect towards him.
    I am grateful to God that I was given a wonderful father.
    I hope he knew how much he has meant to all of us.
    My dad smiled with a smile on this face and fulfillment in his heart.
    He knew that he was a great success as a husband, father, brother, son and friend to all those whose lives he touched.
    I wonder how many millionaires can say that.....your son

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  3. 43. Ode To The Step-Dad

    • By Susan E. Winover
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems February 2006

    Is it more special to be a birth father or to be a step-father?

    Poem For A Step Dad

    Although you're not my birth Dad,
    You've loved me since I was small,

    The road has not always been easy,
    I'm sure at times you've wondered,
    how you even got here at all,

    There may have been times when I
    was distant,
    Resenting you because you weren't
    my 'real' Dad,

    And when the going got real rough at times,
    I'm sure you felt you'd been had,

    But time is the great healer,
    She's patient and loving and kind,

    One day I woke up from my slumber,
    And with you, I just changed my mind,

    I decided you weren't such a bad guy,
    You really seemed like you cared,

    You seemed to make Mommy so happy,
    Perhaps I could open my heart just a wee
    little bit, a wee little bit if I dared,

    You stood there with arms wide open,
    When I decided to take 'the chance',

    It seemed so natural and made such sense,
    Like a lovely, well-choreographed dance,

    You never held it against me,
    Those early days when I wasn't so sure,

    And when you hold me so close and so dear,
    I now know our love is real and pure.

    Written for Audrey Rose, by Mommy

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  4. 44. Wondrous Magical Times

    My dad was my hero. I always felt safe as a little girl. He taught me that a man should treat a lady with the utmost respect. We should never settle for anything less. There was a time in my life when I did settle for less. My dad saved me, because that little girl still lived in me, and she clung to that magic time with her daddy. His love and strength empowered me to find myself again. I hope this inspires women to remember the happy little girl in them and to never settle for anything less.

    Always Daddy's Little Girl

    The child held to her
    daddy's hand.
    She stood upon his feet,
    and as they danced to the music,
    their closeness was complete.

    Excitedly, the little girl
    would wait for her daddy to speak,
    and as she danced in his footsteps,
    he knew one day another's love
    she would seek.

    Time whirled her far
    from her daddy's footsteps,
    into lost dreams of a magic time,
    void of knights and steeds
    and damsels saved
    and music filled with rhyme.

    Old daddy wiped away his daughter's
    tears of sadness and then the
    tears of strife,
    and then held to his child's hand,
    quietly rectifying her life.

    The child held to her
    daddy's hand
    and danced to music filled with rhyme,
    and felt a touch of happiness
    and wondrous magical times.

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    I loved the poem but I really can't relate to it because it was hard for my dad when he was growing up because he never had anyone like the little girl does in the poem. He never had a father...

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  5. 45. Dancing With My Dad

    • By Rosemarie Ev Shaeffer
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems June 9, 2021

    Tribute to my dad, remembering and missing dancing with him through the years from a little girl in a Flamenco dress, jitter bugging in socks, and at parents' 50th wedding anniversary.

    Memories With Dad

    Socks glide across the kitchen floor,
    Arms spin me around once more.
    Best time I ever had,
    Was dancing with my Dad.

    Family and strangers gather round,
    Outdoor music, blaring sound.
    Familiar face and I'm so glad,
    Once more dancing with my Dad.

    Sitting beside him in the bed,
    Thinking about the life he led.
    Wishing he could rise; I'm mad,
    Not to be dancing with my Dad.

    Memories glide like a soft caress,
    Dark haired little girl in a fancy dress.
    Close my eyes, chase away the sad,
    Remember dancing with my Dad.

    Red cardinal, so bright to see,
    On the fence, reminder to me,
    The best time I ever had,
    Was dancing with my Dad.

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  6. 46. Becoming A Dad

    To bring a baby into the world, women go through incredible pain. In this poem, Edgar Guest (1881-1959) shares how the experience of becoming a father is also painful. He goes through his own pain by not being able to do anything to help with labor and delivery. He frets and paces and worries as his partner experiences the anguish of childbirth. This poem has a comedic tone of a father’s experience with childbirth.

    Old women say that men don't know
    The pain through which all mothers go,
    And maybe that is true, and yet
    I vow I never shall forget
    The night he came. I suffered, too,
    Those bleak and dreary long hours through;
    I paced the floor and mopped my brow
    And waited for his glad wee-ow!
    I went upstairs and then came down,
    Because I saw the doctor frown
    And knew beyond the slightest doubt
    He wished to goodness I'd clear out.

    I walked into the yard for air
    And back again to hear her there,
    And met the nurse, as calm as though
    My world was not in deepest woe,
    And when I questioned, seeking speech
    Of consolation that would reach
    Into my soul and strengthen me
    For dreary hours that were to be:
    'Progressing nicely!' that was all
    She said and tip-toed down the hall;
    'Progressing nicely!' nothing more,
    And left me there to pace the floor.

    And once the nurse came out in haste
    For something that had been misplaced,
    And I that had been growing bold
    Then felt my blood grow icy cold;
    And fear's stern chill swept over me.
    I stood and watched and tried to see
    Just what it was she came to get.
    I haven't learned that secret yet.
    I half-believe that nurse in white
    Was adding fuel to my fright
    And taking an unholy glee,
    From time to time, in torturing me.

    Then silence! To her room I crept
    And was informed the doctor slept!
    The doctor slept! Oh, vicious thought,
    While she at death's door bravely fought
    And suffered untold anguish deep,
    The doctor lulled himself to sleep.
    I looked and saw him stretched out flat
    And could have killed the man for that.
    Then morning broke, and oh, the joy;
    With dawn there came to us our boy,
    And in a glorious little while
    I went in there and saw her smile!

    I must have looked a human wreck,
    My collar wilted at the neck,
    My hair awry, my features drawn
    With all the suffering I had borne.
    She looked at me and softly said,
    'If I were you, I'd go to bed.'
    Hers was the bitterer part, I know;
    She traveled through the vale of woe,
    But now when women folks recall
    The pain and anguish of it all
    I answer them in manner sad:
    'It's no cinch to become a dad.'

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  7. 47. My Father's Words

    My father is a very good man and I wanted to express this in a poem.

    A Father's Way With Words

    My father is a man of his word
    A man interested in your word

    A man of many words
    A man of few words

    A man of encouraging words
    A man of truthful words

    A man of motivational words
    A man of calming words

    A man of loving words
    A man of instructional words

    A man of humorous, witty words
    A man of firm, gritty words

    A man of forgiving words
    A man of imperfect words

    A man who models God's Word
    My father, I appreciate his every word

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    Wow, I was fortunate to actually give this lovely poem a vote today. Now it's published. Congratulations! Well deserved.

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  8. 48. My Father

    • By Ellie
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems April 2015

    Thank you for reading my poem.

    Poem About The Importance Of A Father

    There's a man in every boy's life that he calls Father,
    One who never gives up,
    When most wouldn't even bother.
    No matter how bad it is,
    He's always there.
    His judgment impartial, even though at the time
    You don't think it's fair.
    He taught you his values and imparted his views,
    Equipped you with the tools of life that you need to use.
    Yes, there's one man I know unlike any other,
    And that's the man I call my Father.

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  9. 49. If You Could Only Hear

    • By Ashley Kramp
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems July 2008

    Hi, my name is Ashley and I recently lost my Dad on Memorial Day., May 26, 2008. He was 39. He has 3 grandsons who loved him very much. He committed suicide, which seemed a little strange considering the fact that my Aunt was coming from Eastern Shore the very next day to help him get his life together. Now that he's gone we all have to try to get OUR lives together. I love you Dad and you will always be missed!

    Dad Committed Suicide Poem

    If You Could Only Hear
    Hey Pop Pop, hey it's me...
    I would say this if I could only speak.
    But I know if you could hear,
    my gibberish would turn to words as they float to your loving ears.
    You would hear them say I love you in so many ways.

    So tell me Pop Pop,
    the name you so longed to hear,
    please tell me you'll be close and always be near.

    If you could hear,
    I'd tell you I miss you
    and Mommy does too
    and I'd tell you how great it was to have met you.

    If you could hear,
    I'd tell you I'll see you again one day,
    but I don't worry because I know you'll be watching over me all along the way.

    If you could hear,
    I'd tell you Mommy wishes you could come back
    but I know your up there to stay.
    But as I get older I'll have dreams of you and we'll finally get to play.

    This is what I would say if only you hear.

    In Loving Memory- Frank John Kramp
    August 29, 1967- May 26, 2008

    By: AshleyKramp
    May 27, 2008

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    Latest Shared Story

    Thanks to everyone who commented. I so sorry for all your losses. It is 5 years this Sunday of my dads suicide and instead of it getting easier it's getting harder. To any of those who like...

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