Yellow Daffodils

March 11, 2010
By princesslbo8 BRONZE, Ardsley, New York
princesslbo8 BRONZE, Ardsley, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

They haven’t seen the light fade from their father’s eyes
While his soul slips away into heaven, and he dies
They haven’t experienced the gruesome smell of rotten eggs
After they sat out in the sun for 4 hours,
Or the smell of burnt Christmas cookies,
That’s comes with death,

For years to come, death will creep into her dreams and startle her,
It will terrify her worse than Voldermort ever can
Or the daunting monsters that live under the bed

It will creep up on her at random times and drown her,
And she will feel so beaten down, by the fear of death
That she won’t let her mother leave, without knowing if she’s safe,
By calling her on the phone, every five minutes

She asks her friends if she is crazy,
But they don’t understand
For she has lost a parent, her comfort, support, and hero,
And they still have it all

They can still dream of happily ever after,
That life is filled with laughter,
And believe that the prince will rescue the princess in the end,
Or that there is such thing as a perfect family

For she will never hear his laugh,
Or be walked down the aisle by her father,
She won’t have a father to tell her that she is beautiful,
She will never be able to yell “dad” and see him appear

And when the pain becomes too powerful and has eaten away
At her heart like rabid beasts
She must remember that it was fate that brought together Romeo and Juliet
And fate that separated a young girl from her father

So love them while you can,
For not everyone has that honor, of seeing his or her father
Dance that embarrassing dance, or sing that out of tune song
Because you never know when your world will drop to pieces

For Death is watching a little girl cry, while her father is lowered into the ground,
It is holding her and hearing her whisper “why god, why”,
It is watching a man weeping while squeezing the little girl,
With tears gushing down his face like a rainstorm
Answering, “I don’t know, I don’t know”

For she will never get that special gift that only a father can give,
And will never forgive the fact that she must accept,
His love, in the first ring he gave her mother, which now she wears
His tenderness, in the people that come up to question if she was his daughter

His caring and patience, in the bracelet that he bought for her sister
And was given to her for her 13th birthday
Because he wasn’t there to give her his own gift

The tears that descend from her eyes are enough to fill a bay,
And possibly even an ocean by the time she is old and gray,
Even though she will carry this burden for life, she continues on,
And with a deep breath gathers herself together

For she is no longer a pawn in the game of death,
She won’t be advised that everything will be ok when it will not
She won’t accept false “oh I’m so sorry”
For it is time to face the world of reality,

As spring blooms, along comes a ray of hope,
Hope in the form of a sunshine yellow daffodil,
A cluster of flowers that grows back continually each and every year
Flowers that the deer never eat, or the squirrels trample on,
For even the animals know that within these flowers live the soul of her father.

The author's comments:
this is a slam poem about my father which earned me first place in my english class poetry slam

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This article has 4 comments.

ghlacy said...
on Mar. 29 2010 at 7:45 am
You are very brave to share your very personal thoughts and emotions. You are strong and beautiful. Your poem may also help others feel they are not alone in life's pain and renewal.

dqaem94 said...
on Mar. 27 2010 at 11:27 am
laura your poem is really good, it was one of my favorites in our grade! you put a lot of effort into it.

malofro said...
on Mar. 27 2010 at 6:29 am
This poem is beautiful to read and painful to absorb. It touched me deeply. To know what you went through in a whole new way and to embrace your resilence and hope for the future.-Aunt MA

on Mar. 26 2010 at 8:47 pm

Laura Belle,

I loved your poem. Wish you would show this much effort in Global class.

--Ms. Gardner

Parkland Book