+15Time is waiting
I am pacing
My daddie is fading
Daddie do you see?
That maybe it wasn’t meant to be….
Daddie is mad
Mommie is mad
While I’m confused
Daddie says he can’t see it like old times
Mommie says it will
Never be the same
What am I to say?
Daddie please don’t leave me
Daddie please don’t go
Daddie won’t you stay?
just hold me once more
Daddie I’m sorry
For everything I did
Daddie I’m sorry for not
Making my bed…
Daddie I’m sorry for pouting when I was told to do my chores
Daddie I’m sorry for acting like everything was a bore
Daddie we grew tired of listening And watching the fights
Oh daddie we got restless
Of having to say good-bye
Daddie I know you love us
But you say you’re really scared
Daddie you were once reckless
But would you really go back there?
To all the pain and misery of never really being there
Daddie it was harsh To not be with you a lot
But daddie don’t you know
Now that we’re older we don’t
Daddie please don’t drink
Daddie please don’t smoke
Daddie please don’t say good-bye
And forever SHUT the DOOR…
This poem was written/submitted by lisha len.
+4Hey Daddy!
There you are.
Every time I look around no ones there
It seems like I’m all alone, in this dark world of mine.
You always told me I would never be alone.
I thought it was true but its not.
Every time i look back, Uncle Brayn will always have my back!
He told me I could do it, yeah, I would make it through, But
every time I try to get back up, something always stops me.
I never thought this day would come, to find you here all dead and bruised.
They tried to hold it back from me, but i wouldn’t let them!
you’ve always had my back, so now its time to have yours.
You told me i was strong, so now I have to be strong for you
I LOVE YOU DADDY!!
This poem was written/submitted by DESTINY PROULX.
0My dad and I-we think alike,
He knows just what I mean
Before I even say a word
He reads, well, in between.
My dad and I-we like to fish
Or build a model plane,
Or fix a broken chair or two
Or just a windowpane.
My dad and I-we know the score
Of every single game;
Sometimes he’s really busy, too
But he takes me just the same.
My dad and I-we go swimming too,
Each year and sometimes twice.
My dad and I-we do everything;
My dad-he’s really nice.
This poem was written/submitted by Phyllis C. Michael.
0 1. Parenting is a 24-hour-a-day job with no salary, no raises, no promotions and very few
vacations.
2. Parents are responsible for everything that happens to their children.
3. Guilt and self-blame are occupational hazards.
4. Parents don’t get worker’s compensation or any other fringe benefits.
5. Parents can never retire — even when their kids ask them to.
6. Parents “don’t get no respect” –until they die–and then it’s too late.
This poem was written/submitted by Bruce Lanksy.
0 There’s two things I know for sure.
She was sent here from heaven,
and she’s daddy’s little girl.
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night,
she talks to Jesus, and I close my eyes.
And I thank God for all of the joy in
my life, But most of all, for…
Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer.
Stickin’ little white flowers all up in her hair.
“Walk beside the pony daddy,
it’s my first ride.”
“I know the cake looks funny,
daddy, but I sure tried.”
Oh, with all that I’ve done wrong,
I must have done something right
To deserve a hug every morning,
And butterfly kisses at night.
Sweet sixteen today,
She’s looking like her momma
a little more everyday.
One part woman, the other part girl.
To perfume and makeup,
form ribbons and curls.
Trying her wings out
in a great big world. But I remember…
Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer.
Stickin’ little white flowers all up in her hair.
“You know how much I love you daddy,
But if you don’t mind,
I’m only going to kiss you on
the cheek this time.”
With all that I’ve done wrong
I must have done something right.
To deserve her love every morning,
And butterfly kisses at night.
All the precious time
Like the wind, the years go by
Precious butterfly
Spread your wings and fly
She’ll change her name today.
She’ll make a promise,
and I’ll give her away.
Standing in the bride room
just staring at her,
she asked me what I’m thinking,
and I said “I’m not sure,
I just feel like I’m losing my baby girl.”
Then she leaned over….and gave me….
Butterfly kisses, with her mama there
Sticking little flowers all up in her hair
“Walk me down the aisle, daddy,
it’s just about time.”
“Does my wedding gown look pretty, daddy?”
“Daddy, don’t cry.”
With all that I’ve done wrong,
I must have done something right
To deserve her love every morning,
And butterfly kisses
I couldn’t ask God for more, man, this is what love is
I know I’ve gotta let her go, but I’ll always remember
Every hug in the morning, and butterfly kisses…
This poem was written/submitted by Bob Carlisle & Randy Thomas.
0 Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should…
For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills…
And Father struggles daily
To live up to “HIS IMAGE”
As protector and provider
And “hero or the scrimmage”…
And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad’s heart,
Where no one else can see
You’ll find he’s sentimental
And as “soft” as he can be…
But he’s so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife…
But Fathers are just WONDERFUL
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness…
And like OUR HEAVENLY FATHER,
He’s a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be ALWAYS ON OUR SIDE.
This poem was written/submitted by Helen Steiner Rice.
0 Bedtime came, we were settling down,
I was holding one of my lads.
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:
My hands. . .they looked like my dad’s!
I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,
there was always a cracked nail or two.
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark,
his thumb was a beautiful blue!
They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,
as strong as a carpenter’s vice.
But holding a scared little boy at night,
they seemed to me awfully nice!
The sight of those hands – how impressive it was
in the eyes of his little boy.
Other dads’ hands were cleaner, it seemed
(the effects of their office employ).
I gave little thought in my formative years
of the reason for Dad’s raspy mitts:
The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil,
rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits!
Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead,
when one day my time is done.
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands
will pass on to the hands of my son.
I don’t mind the bruises, the scars here and there
or the hammer that just seemed to slip.
I want most of all when my son takes my hand,
to feel that love lies in the grip.
This poem was written/submitted by David Kettler.
Page 1 of 612345»...Last »
