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Best Poems About / On DAUGHTER
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117.
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Daughter of Death
I was born
Born to the blood of angels
Born through the veil of a storm
Born without love inside of me
Born with a need to perform
Born out of vengence
Born out of scorn
Born out of hatred
out of love torn
Born with a mission
Born with a drive
Born with a need
with a need to sruvive.
Now it's time to show you what i'm really about
no more pretentions;
No more frothing at the mouth
there's no use of hiding
all my sins deep inside
I'll wear them on my shoulder like a badge of pride
Cuz i'm the daughter of death
from my very first breath
i'm the daughter of death
blood red as macbeth
living a filthy mess
i'm a daughter of death
just a daughter of death
I was
Raised from buring ashes
Raised with tragic crime
Raised from cries of chaos
Raised on borrowed time
Raised by the darkness
Rasied by the night
Raised by the claws of fright
Raised to be hated
Riased to be loved
Riased to be doomed
By the powers above
Brittany Cook
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118.
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Lana Jane
Every boy loved her- Lana Jane,
And who could blame them? She was fair,
Of perfect form and beauty rare,
But none could have her, Lana Jane,
The fishermans only daughter,
And he no man to barter.
For he would take poor Lana Jane
To sea, and she would stay the boat
When harbored; thus, a dreadful moat
Would bar the way to Lana Jane,
The fishermans only daughter,
But he refused to barter.
In fourteen years, sweet Lana Jane,
Was never seen upon the shore
Among the boys who wanted more
Than life to see their Lana Jane,
The fishermans only daughter,
Whose father ne'er would barter.
The legend grew of Lana Jane,
While scores of ports, legions of ships
Claimed: Shes aboard! through whispered lips,
The rarest beauty, Lana Jane,
The fishermans only daughter.
She's yours to see. Let's barter!
Hm. Nes
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119.
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Daughter
March its seems for now,
is how long we are going to wait;
Before we get to know,
what is the health, and my daughters fate.
Its tough to take my life,
and everything thats going on in stride;
My feelings and emotions,
I must be strong and keep inside.
My eight year old looks to me,
with eyes of a trusting soul;
Daddy will make everything ok.
Daddy will keep me whole.
I love my eight year old daughter,
much more then words can say;
Since most of this is out of my hands,
daily I kneel and pray.
Lord you love my daughter,
and I know your plan is true;
Today I give you my daughter,
and all that she is going through.
Dwayne Bailey
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120.
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And She Is Left To Face The End Alone
She's lost the dearest love she has ever known
And now she has to face the end alone
Her only daughter's ashes gone to sea
But of others she doesn't need their sympathy.
A bright and lucid woman for her years
For her dead daughter she has shed many tears
She wept when there was no one there to see
And now of hurtful sorrow she feels free.
She feel glad that she has lived to see another Spring
To hear again the white backed magpie sing
And see the yellow flowers on wattle tree
And hear the grey thrush pipe his melody.
Her daughter's ashes borne miles away
By the sea currents from Port Phillip bay
And Thelma like old soldier soldier on
And all her childhood friends long dead and gone.
A braver or wiser woman I've not known
And she is left to face the end alone
Her only daughter's ashes gone to sea
But of others she doesn't seek their sympathy.
Francis Duggan
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