Thinking of funeral poems for dad can be an incredibly emotional experience. Whether you want poems as part of a father's eulogy or simply want to read a poem at a memorial service, it's important to find something that speaks to you and your relationship with your father. As loss and death are part of life, many poets have written about lost fathers. However, there are also plenty of poems about fatherhood in general you can use to share your sentiments. Below, you'll find a wide variety of poems to help you articulate your feelings about your father's passing.
Poems about the death of a father often ground the emotions in imagery. In Mark Irwin's "My Father's Hats," for example, Irwin talks in vivid detail about his memories of his late father's hats. Li-Young Lee's "The Gift" tells an evocative story of the narrator's father helping remove a splinter from his hand, a treasured memory that taught him life lessons. Other poems are more abstract expressions of gratitude, grief, or both. Helen Steiner Rice talks about how important dads are in "Fathers Are Wonderful People." Other poems share scenes of touching moments between fathers and their children, such as Matt Mason's "The Story of Ferdinand the Bull" and Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays."
Browse the list below to find the best poem to say goodbye to your father. Be sure to vote the best choices to the top to help other readers also in need of a good funeral poem.
By Emma Wheeler Wilcox
He gave them neither eminence nor wealth,
But he gave them blood untainted with a vice,
And opulence of undiluted health.
He was honest, and unpurchable and kind;
He was clean in heart, and body, and in mind.
So he made them heirs to riches without price –
By Edgar Guest
Only a dad but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.
By e.e. cummings
joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
keen as midsummer’s keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly (over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father’s dream
By William Blake
Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost