#Happy Fathers Day Poems

[maihonhassan]

“Baap ki daulat nahi saya hi kaafi hota hai.”

[guulabii]

my fathers violence held me by the throat and it felt like love. my fathers voice has become the call of death, the reminder that i was always the daughter who had to hide in the night. i have scratched his touch to forget, i have locked the doors so that the night no longer frightens me, and i have left him behind. but ever so often, his language spills from me and it is the biggest paradox of my existence.

that his language, my tongue remembers like the water. but his name i tore from my throat so early on, a ripped muscle that never heals, occasionally bleeds. the blood pools at the end of my feet and the little girl who yearns for her father to say her name like she is worth something stares back at me in the mirror. i claw the mirror with a rage that blurs into his face.

am i my fathers daughter? a cracked mirror, a bleeding child, a dark room, but every time i speak his language, the muscle contracts, the bleeding slows, and it whispers, you were once a part of me, and a part of me i wish you never were. my father gave me two things— the violence of love and a liking to black forest cake.

[sadfragilegirl]

To All The Dads

To all the dads

Many kinds of dads

Every unique dads from different kinds

Wanna-be dads

Soon to be dads

New dads

Comedian dads

Best Chef dads

Expert fixer (sort of or almost) dads

Pet/animal lover dads

Teacher dads

Old school dads

Dads...who are passed away...but still be there for us...

All kinds of dads in every color and in every world...

Thank you for being there with us from the day we were born and met you for the first time to the end of the age.

From your love, sacrifice, advice and unforgettable times, you are our hero without a cape on it.

I love you, dad.

[mariellaolden]

An ode to my father

(No one writes about the good, loving father, and it’s saddening because he deserves the recognition too; so let this be one.)

Growing up, my father would always tell me not to cry and waste the entire day on it. I didn’t understand why. My father is an island of wisdom, a lighthouse of courage, and a sky of blue. He’s not showy, but when he speaks, intelligence flows. He rarely cries. He is so good that his kindness to others always comes back to him tenfold. His jokes may be silly, but they brighten our days. He always had a way with words. He's an explorer and all-rounder, always willing to go the extra mile to provide. Fear has never been a part of his vocabulary; he's never afraid to take up space.

My father has been there for us since day one. He's one of the people who made home feel how it's supposed to feel—warm, comforting, and enough. In my many moments of loss and failure, he's there to reassure me, saying, "It's okay, you can try again next time." I've heard countless words of affection, but his I love you's will always be my favorite. To love my father is to love his thousand wounds, cuts, and imperfections. People say we look alike, and perhaps it’s true. It's in the strength we share and the perseverance to move forward. If I could make a wish, I would ask for the courage to hold my father's hand so I could take out his suitcase of pain, his back full of suffering, and carry the weight of life’s challenges.

If someone were to ask me who my first love is, I would say it’s my father. If someone were to ask me in what way I'm lucky, in a heartbeat, I'd say it’s the way I have him. And if I were reborn, without a doubt, I would still want him to be my father. On his special day today, I pray that the world will be a little kinder towards him and that his purpose will never end. I pray that he will continue to fight his battles, we will always be beside him. I thank him for listening to my stories, for supporting me in pursuing my childhood dream, and for never pressuring me to be anyone but myself. His presence matters a lot. It took quite a lot of effort to shape me into the woman I am today, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Now I know the reason why. My father told me not to cry to understand that life does not end there. For me to keep living, to think of solutions instead of weeping, and to embrace pain but not actually own it and be defined by it. As I grew older, I realized he was right; he always is.

[canadachronicles]

"Just Home and Love! the words are small Four little letters unto each; And yet you will not find in all The wide and gracious range of speech Two more so tenderly complete: When angels talk in Heaven above, I'm sure they have no words more sweet Than Home and Love. Just Home and Love! it's hard to guess Which of the two were best to gain; Home without Love is bitterness; Love without Home is often pain. No! each alone will seldom do; Somehow they travel hand and glove: If you win one you must have two, Both Home and Love. And if you've both, well then I'm sure You ought to sing the whole day long; It doesn't matter if you're poor With these to make divine your song. And so I praisefully repeat, When angels talk in Heaven above, There are no words more simply sweet Than Home and Love."

Home and Love, Robert William Service

[elmp]

Happy Father's Day, Pa

Sure, Dad can be a

Cunt, but that Cunt can sometimes

Show a lot of love

[wordangle]

I meet him sometimes,

The man I aim to be.

I comfort him often,

The child lost at sea.

I toast to him more lately,

The soon-to-be me.

[vipinjha]

बाबूजी !! Babu ji Kavita !! Maithili Kavita Babuji !! Vipin Jha #babuj...

बाबूजी:- पेटक खातिर सदिखन बाहर सरकारक नीतिक शिकारल शहरक कारखाना लेल एकटा मजूर मुदा हमरा घर'क खाम छलैथ बाबूजी टिकुली सिनुर  गहना जेवर बरसाइत तीज मधुश्रावणीक तेवर माए माथाक ताज छलैथ बाबूजी हुनकर कोरा छल इन्द्रासन कखनो दुलार कखनो फटकार सन्ना भात सन छल हुनकर व्यवहार सगर गाम मे नहि छल हुनका सं किनको द्वेष मुसकिक पहिचान छलैथ बाबूजी दीया-बाती छठि पराती दुर्गा-पूजा आकि शिवराति हुनका अबिते हमरा लेल होइ छल सभटा पावनि निसंकोच भ' सभटा गप्प हम कहियैं सँगी आर जिनगीक शान छलैथ बाबूजी :- Vipin Jha

[camcorderrevival]

post-Father’s Day ( - 21. 6. 23 )

[ longer version of this ]

[astoldbycrimson]

Happy Father's Day

To all the father figures in my life Who have bandaged a scraped knee, Who showed me how to stand tall, And how to be the best me. To all who held me when I cried, Who reminded me that I would be alright, Who whispered many uplifting words And told me to keep my dreams in sight. To all the ones who loved me Even when I couldn't do the same; To all the ones who would get down on my level And played every made up little game. To all the father figures in my life, I thank you for showing me the way; I thank you for your kindness; To each one of you, Happy Father's Day!

[ashotasfireandasdeepastheocean1]

Happy Father's Day ❤️

.

[trapped-away]

[jjspina]

Happy Father's Day!

Here is a post for Father’s Day that I posted in 2020! It says all that I feel for my dad. I pray that all fathers out there had a wonderful day and were treated like kings. This is my special dad! HAPPY FATHER’S DAY! Dad, you were a special man! You were always there to lend a hand. You treated us with kindness. You were always fair. You showed us how much you cared. You wore a happy…

[kalisbaby]

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

[theonlyinvincible]

A Father's love

In honor of our fathers, strong and true,This heartfelt poem i dedicate to you.For all the love and wisdom that you share,For the sacrifices you willingly bear.You are the heroes of our early years,With gentle hands that wiped away our tears.Your guidance shaped us into who we are,A steady presence, like a shining star.You taught us strength, both in body and mind,To never give up, to always be…

[feral-ballad]

“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.

This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.

During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.

But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.

This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.

This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.

This is all that is left of that picture now.

I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.

I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.

I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?

I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,

Help.

I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.

It should be in your knowledge that:

It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.

Thank you.”