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Party of two
wind off the water
my daughter and my wife dance
when I am away
Poems on the topic: daughter
Poems on the topic “daughter” on Poets.by.
Alex Rue
Brown hair,
Hazel eyes,
A smile like the sun.
She'd love to sing and dance for us,
And have more hoodies than she should. (duh)
Her favorite food would be green apples,
Oh, and she'd love to read and draw.
And anytime she sees a dog
We'll be hearing her name it all day long.
If she ever fell out of a tree
(which she will if she's like me)
She'd run inside and laugh it off-
"Don' worry daddy, I fine!"
And if she's like you,
I'll have almost no time on my hands,
Cause I'll be too busy keeping her out of trouble
Tried
"I tried, I really did
it was never enough
but now i don't wish to try anymore
i just wish it would stop"
the mother read out surrounded
by her daughters blood.
Sunlight Slants
He is my spitting image, they say,
A miniature, a chip off the old block.
From near, from afar, he resembles me so,
My son, my blood, torchbearer of my life.
I don’t how I were as a baby,
But I could see it when he was one.
I was glad, proud, deliriously happy,
The proof my manhood, my only son.
I were, I am, still man enough,
For another progeny, his sister or brother.
A friend for my son to play with,
A heart for him to confide in.
‘All my friends have a sister or brother,
Why too can’t I have one?’
He no more asks me this question,
But its shadow still flits in his eyes.
The Choice
It wasn't her fault.
None of it was.
The grades gone wrong.
And he blamed 'that boy'.
'Its not him'
She said through the tears.
'You have a choice' he bellowed.
'Fine I choose him'.
Those words now haunt him.
Taunt him.
Day and night.
His little girl grew up.
In one day.
'Why?' He asked
'Oh the choices I gave'.
For Rachel
anger what good
the flower is angrier than i am
so is the blood
that rights & jerks in the ground
when i slice it with my rake
my daughter following
pulling crocus flowers
off the flagstone where the sudden freeze
left them
Tankle-Tinkle-Tank
The rector's attic window is a light,
Set high on shelf for all the folk to see ;
His garden's windy-dim as it can be,
Where grow tall flags, some purple and some white.
The next house, too, holds one pane clearly red;
Three roofs beyond, the vane's a rosy flare;
Milk-heavy, slow, through the exquisite air,
The cows go tankling-tinkling to the shed.
Lost loveliness is broken down the wind;
Lost laughters fleet along the blur of wall; —
The cows go tankling to the barnyard near; —
And cloudy-pale, the shaken flowers behind,
The rector sees, through tears that aching fall,
His little daughter, dead this many a year.
Lover of Children
When my little girl plays Beethoven Sonatas,
The big, black Steinway flashes all its teeth at her
In a broad, good-natured grin:
And suddenly
I hear a deep, rumbling, beautiful roar of laughter.
Black Sile of the Silver Eye
As I rode down to Gartan fair
I met a girl upon the way:
The winter night was on her hair,
The summer dawn was in her eye.
And O, she stepped with such a gait,
And bore her round black head so high,
And tossed it so, I knew her straight
For Sile of the Silver Eye.
"God save you, Sile, love," says I:
"God save you kindly," murmured she--
And love was welling in her eye
As she dropped me the courtesy.
The mountain boys upon the road
Were at themselves for jealousy
When they saw Seamus win the nod
From Sile of the Silver Eye.
Questionnaire
Have I told any man to be a liar for my sake?
Have I sold ice to the poor in summer and coal to the
poor in winter for the sake of daughters who nursed
brindle bull terriers and led with a leash their dogs
clothed in plaid wool jackets?
Have I given any man an earful too much of my talk —
or asked any man to take a snootful of booze on
my account?
Have I put wool in my own ears when men tried to tell
me what was good for me? Have I been a bum
listener ?
Have I taken dollars from the living and the unborn
while I made speeches on the retributions that
shadow the heels of the dishonest?
Have I done any good under cover? Or have I always
put it in the show windows and the newspapers ?
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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