Dad long poem

There’s a man that I knew,
not too close, not too far,
as a child he was there
to tend to my scars.

A man with a past,
of that I had no doubt,
a man, when provoked,
who knew how to shout.

A happy man
with a smile for all,
he’d always be there to
pick me up when I’d fall.

And though never far away,
we were never very close,
a sign of those times
one can only suppose.

But I loved him.

Now as time moved on
I matured and grew,
a family of my own
I now saw things anew.

The man, as a child,
that I thought I had known
seemed to change before my eyes,
a hard life taking its toll.

Strangely enough
and not before time
our relationship blossomed,
it made my heart shine.

He loved his grandchildren;
how they laughed and they played,
he always had time,
no excuses ever made.

And I loved him.

We soon began to talk
and enjoy things the same,
it was late in the day
and as such quite a shame.

But then Dad became ill
and could no longer hide
the insidious destroyer
that was growing inside.

For long years he battled
and for a time he seemed free
of the terrible disease
that would not leave him be.

The clock of his life
was now running down,
but no tears, no sadness,
no worries or frown.

And I loved him.

He wouldn’t give in
and let us all know
that his time was now short,
he would soon have to go.

A man once so tall,
so tough and so proud,
his heart beating strong and
his voice booming loud.

The head of the family,
protector of all,
to nurture, support,
a role model to call.

He was always around
when I needed him most,
as gentle as a feather
yet strong as a post.

And I loved him.

Adored from afar,
respected and revered.
A clown full of laughter
and yes, even feared.

Cut down far too soon,
he had so much to give.
A friend, now so close,
it’s not fair, let him live!

Crumbling from inside
and so painfully thin,
so cruel and heartless,
a tragedy; a sin.

Snatched from my grasp
with a heart rending cry,
please give him back,
I don’t understand why?

You see, I loved him.

After all the years of
my life, young and old,
so many good times,
fun and laughter untold.

Once a distant observer,
I was now at ringside,
no longer a stranger,
no wasteful divide.

Too soon, too soon,
can’t you give us more time,
this can’t be it all,
not the end of the line?

And then just an emptiness,
a terrible rift,
the weight on the soul
is impossible to shift.

For I loved him.

Nothing left to show,
just a memory, a hole,
a feeling of loss
I just couldn’t control.

A man who for most of
our time seemed aloof,
had grown into my life
and I needed no proof.

His pride had been there
for us all to see,
the gleam in his eyes
when he looked at me.

‘A grafter’ he’d once called me
with beaming pride,
the smile on my face
was impossible to hide.

For I loved him.

I’m glad, before his end,
I was able to show
that it wasn’t all wasted,
for he helped me bestow

some of that jovial love,
that heart-warming smile,
on those in my life
who had enjoyed his style.

Regrets, we all have
and they’re all part of life,
some hard to accept and
some cut like a knife.

But mine are so simple,
so normal, so plain and
yet they still fill me
with saddening pain.

Because I loved him.

For all that we did and
the closeness we shared,
I just couldn’t open up
and tell him I was scared.

If I could just have a minute
with the man that I miss,
it would be a sweet moment
of heavenly bliss.

I would hold him so close
and squeeze him so tight
and on his sweet brow
kiss him gently goodnight.

I would look in his eyes,
so sweet and so blue
and simply say to him,
“Dad, I really love you.”

Written by Darren Scanlon, July 2012.
Revised 17th May 2015.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Darren Scanlon

Darren Scanlon

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
ALL POEMS ©2015 DARREN SCANLON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. * Words and music have always played a major role in my life. A life without being able to enjoy music and express in words would be, for me, empty and cold.I have been writing since age 16, some 30+ years now but have only recently started publishing my works. Since doing so in Dec 2013, I have published 4 novels and 5 volumes of poetry, (available on words are my life. If they touch you in any way, if you are able to take something from them, then my work has achieved its goal and I am a happy man.Welcome to my world. Darren.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

8 Comments on "Dad"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
ratnaprabha raykar

a wonderful poem,could not stop till the end,full of poignance

John Summers

I adore this poem darren,as you know.When I publish my book it will be an absolute privelidge to put it alongside my own work.Thanks for letting me.

Sreelatha Chakravarty

Flowing, full and graceful poem.

High On Poems

Congratulations! @dartherino
This poem has been featured in the Poetry Article we published on Father’s Day. Your poem is listed with the works of celebrated poets. People reading this article will be directed to your profile page so they can read more of your work.
You can read the complete article here

May your words reach places and touch hearts through the power of poetry.


Understanding Dad

Understanding Dad short poem

It took until I was a mature man for me to understand your ways, actions I didn’t respect you when you were alive because I was blindly following my own ego, narcissism But now as I sit and ponder the

Walking With My Dad

Walking With My Dad short poem

maybe my father was a good but lonely man when my mother died he was all I had and I was all there was left of his world he grew so sad after her death that he couldn’t work anymore

Call Of An Unborn Daughter To Dad

Call Of An Unborn Daughter To Dad prose poem

Call Of An Unborn Daughter To Dad Dad I am your guiltless and innocent unborn daughter who is anxious to step in your house will you please give birth to your daughter Will you be happy on my arrival probably


Dad short poem

When I was 6, Every one called me child. When I was 16, Every one called me teenager. When I was 26, Everyone called me young. When I was 36, Everyone called me adult. When I was 46, Every one


Dad short poem

I have a hero I call him dad, Who makes me smile whenever I am sad. Dad, You are my first love For me, you are all above. With a morning hug, U wake me up, Then you run errands,