Tag Archives: daughter poems

Guilty Victims

Papa today I saw him
The man who snatched life me
He’s free papa
And his health is getting better
Papa, he fed on my blood
My virgin blood!
And drank my tears
He owns my flesh
Every inch my breasts grow
My fears swell
Will it arouse them?
Will it tell them I want it?
I saw him, and the memories surfaced
My mind popped open, and worms crawled out
There’s nothing left in this skull
But memories of torture and pain
All rotten
The smell won’t let me eat
The guilt won’t let me sleep
Don’t lie to me papa
I’m guilty
Wasn’t he right to pluck the flower of my childhood?
Wasn’t I meant to please the desire of men?
Papa, I’m guilty of fighting him
Guilty of reporting him
Guilty of damaging his reputation
I’m eating my flesh away
Or did I get sick?
Papa life has no meaning
Don’t you have death on speed dial?


I Should Have Danced With You

I Should Have Danced With You

My dearest child
Tears well my eyes
Every time the sun rise
Heating the slab you’re cased in
I writhe within
Regrets find their way in my conscience
And my heart is yet to listen to my plea for acceptance

In spite of all I did and failed to do
You can know I loved you
We only fail at how to express
Feelings the heart can’t digress
Nor the tongue can profess

I was a bad father
Tossed you in winds like a feather
And watched as you lost grips of your dreams
I was never there to tour your realms
All that worried me were your screams

I failed you my daughter
My special gift wrapped in laughter
I should have called you Isaac
But my conservatism made you berserk

When you asked me to dance with you
I felt envious at how meticulously your aura flew
And I said, ‘I’m dancing with you in my heart’
You moved your feet and your dress swayed in part

Every move stretched my heart walls
I needed more space to store your wholes
But you were too wild a bird to be caged
Breaking free from walls society etched

Now that you’re gone
This place is no longer home
But a mine field of regrets
It is a yard of myriad faucets
Of all that poor parenthood begets

Every time your memory creeps in my mind
Your plea peeps to remind,
Me that I owe you a dance
And I move my feet in hope that I meet you in trance
Father-daughter dance

Image Credits: Google