I never waited 27 years, because 27 years ago I was just born. My parents never told me, 'If you don't win Roland Garros we take you to the orphanage.'
quote by Roger Federer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
The Prisoner Of War
he waited from night to night
he waited till the son started peeling over the horizon
he waited till he heard the morning birds chirp
he waited for a long time
he waited for his father
his father lost at war
his father he knew since he was born
but as time grew
the boy felt so weary
the boy waited and waited and waited
his mother giving him the same face
the same face when his father left
and the same face when he didn't comeback
but the boy did not notice this
the boy never knew his dad has been lost
but until
until he strayed up one night
a night he would never forget
he saw his father walking about in the streets
his uniform on but he noticed something else
his father had many medals
but he knew nothing of them
all that he cared about was his father was home
the boy waited 10 years
his mother fell asleep in tears
for all those years
but then he finally came home
this poem is dedicated to all POW
poem by Montana Hohensee
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Years 1
For years I let the torment go on
Years I let you get in my head
Years I had to cry myself to sleep
your out now and last night
what you did to me replayed in my head again
I told myself i wasn't going to let it happen but it did
For years I have lived in scared quarters
For years I have looked for your face
For years I have never felt safe
For years I have remembered
poem by Marissa Ford
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Early Works - Alone To Face The World
Born some years ago,
raised in an orphanage
that is all I know
with a lot of other kids
until I became of age to get a job
and earn a couple of bob.
I was alone to face the world
with its evils and temptations,
alone to face the world
with its humiliations,
alone without a friend
to whom I could depend.
Life was hard for me
and the times weren’t easy
as sadness surrounded me
and as the years drifted by,
I began to live my life a lie
with a tear in each eye.
Now my life is disappearing fast
there’s not long for me to last
and now the end is near
death I do not fear
for I see the good and the undertow
of how evil does grow.
Date unknown
poem by David Harris
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From a biologically-not-belonging daughter
I was born to a couple
Who, probably did not want me
Left me in an orphanage
Even before I was born
And when I was a fetus
I passed through uncomforting
Situations, when my
Biological parents
Had a lot unpleasantries
To exchange
And it did not give me shock
To know that
I am in orphanage
One day
A couple came
Chose me from
A lot of orphans
Each looking for
Love and care
And waiting for
Such caring couple
I am in a new environment now
Both my biologically-not-belonging parents
Pouring love on this
Infant, and presenting me to others
As their long awaited pride
They saw with awe
My little movements
Each stage of my growth
Brought to them immense pleasure
And they gleefully shared
The growth changes in me
To their friends and relatives
Every other day someone
Visited me, invited me to their waiting hands
Watched this little me with wonder
And showered their affectionate blessings
The care of this
Deserted and disowned little girl
Saw its peak when my “parents”
Arranged for my first birth anniversary
I was decorated with earring
Though pained initially
I am proud of this, as this is the symbol
Of their love
I could not keep a count of how many
Attended to me
Assumed kidding roles to amuse me
And make me smile
With my four incision teeth exposed
Many a gift and lot of love
I felt for the first time
That this earth’s crest is held tight
Not because of any thing
But because of this love
Shown to a girl
Of unknown origin
It was not my birth anniversary
But was that of a
Self-imposed parenthood
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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This Must Be The Place I Waited Years To Leave
(tennant/lowe)
----------------
(everybody e-e-everybody
Everybody e-e-everybody
Everybody e-e-everybody
Everybody jump to attention...)
Each morning after sunblest
Feel the benefit, mental arithmetic
I waited by the staffroom
In time for benediction
Living a law just short of delusion
When we fall in love theres confusion
This must be the place I waited years to leave
To our voices nobodys listening
We shiver in the rain by the touchline
Then a coach ride to the station
My lord, the carriage awaiteth!
Living a law just short of delusion
When we fall in love theres confusion
This must be the place I waited years to leave
This must be the place I waited years to leave
And how
How long?
Im listening to the words I thought Id never hear again
A litany of saints and other ordinary men
Kneeling on the parquet
Whatever has gone wrong?
The fear and feeling hopelessness
I dont want to belong
I dreamt I was back in uniform
And a candidate for examination
History, someone had blundered
And a voice rapped knuckle under!
Living a law just short of delusion
When we fall in love theres confusion
This must be the place I waited years to leave
This must be the place I waited years to leave
And how
And how
How long?
(trebuet nash narod odnogo)
[our people demand only...]
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is The One
A girl consumed by fire
We all know her desire
From the plans that she has made
I had her on a promise
I'mmerse me in your splendour
All the plans that I have made
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
She's waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
She's waited for
I'd like to leave the country
For a month of Sundays
Burn the town where I was born
If only she'd believe me
Bellona belladonna
Burn me out or bring me home
And this is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
She's waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
I've waited for
Oh this is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
I've waited for
This is the one
Oh this is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
I've waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
I've waited for
It may go right
It may go wrong
This is the one
This is the one
She's waited for
And this is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
She's waited for
And this is the one
Oh this is the one
Ah this is the one
This is the one
I've waited for
song performed by by The Stone Roses from Garage Flower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When It Hurts Enough To Cry
When it hurts enough to cry,
Like when your parents give you up, and you don't know why.
Parents just like my own,
Didn't want anything to do with me, till I was grown.
Why do some parents give up their kids,
Do they ever regret later that they did?
My parents weren't there through the teen years,
Or seeing me graduate which brought me tears.
I hardly heard I love you son,
When growing up, I can't remember having any fun.
Something my dad said has always stuck in my head,
When I was five he said he wished I was dead.
Doesn't he know my heart was torn?
I never did ask to be born.
Parents are suppose to love their kids,
And it will show later what a good job they did.
They say you can't choose your mom or dad,
Cause if I could I wouldn't be so sad.
But I always remember what Jesus said,
''Always love your mom and dad.''
poem by Roger Dodd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born In Chicago
I was born in chicago
1971
I was born in chicago 1970
What my father told me,
Son, youd better get a gun.
My first friend went down
When I was 16 years old
Oh my first friend went down
When I was 16 years old
Theres one thing I can say about that boy
He gotta go
My second friend went down
When I was 17 years of age
Oh my second friend went down
When I was 17 years of age
Theres one thing I can say about that boy
He gotta pray
Oh life is a lie
If you dont know how to play the game
Oh life is a lie
If you dont know how to play the game
All my friends are going
And everythings gonna stay the same
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fifty Years Of Marriage
With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.
Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.
Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.
They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.
Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.
Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Window Into The World
The crow flaps its dark wings up there,
hungryor death,
and the dark opened its mouth down there,
hungry for poverty.
Both are permanent visitors on 134th street,
the street of my childhood,
where I returned to after fifty years of straying.
Nothing has changed,
apart from the poverty
which became bigger and darker.
The orphanage is still in the same place
where I used to daydream of the outside world
for hours, days and months on an end I used to stand by the window,
shyly stealing smiles from other kids
who cheerfully jumped around their parents,
dreaming that someday I might hold a child by their hand,
and walk far away from the orphanage.
But that world,
the world I used to watch with so much desire
through the little hole of poverty,
became even colder, lonelier and darker than the orphanage to me.
Yes, Lord, I admit to this standing next to the old orphanage's window,
from my dear and sad sight of the world,
that I am coming home poorer and lonelier,
much sadder and poorer
than I was back in my childhood,
because back then I was rich with youth and hope,
and now I am so hopelessly old and lonely.
I am looking at my old orphanage,
and Patrick's reverberant voice crosses my mind,
Patrick who is long since reading his dear little poems
to angels in white heavenly fields.
When I used to stray the dark streets of the world,
the memory of his precious and clear eyes
was my lighthouse,
and now I am left without youth and friends,
hopelessly old and lonely,
in the company of crows, darkness and poverty.
While I am standing at my little sight of the world,
the wind is carrying around the cigarette ember
along the street of my childhood,
leaving behind a fiery trail for my poverty,
and the old orphanage window,
my small sight of the world,
is creaking like the bones of an old homeless man,
as if it arrived at its end too.
I wonder how many views that old window had provided,
and how many gazes and scorn it withstood?
My old window into the world squeaked again,
and now I know that it is time for me to venture into the dark,
to return into the world,
because my old window
is providing a new hope and new view of the world
to a new resident of the orphanage now.
poem by Walter William Safar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nineteen Years Is Long Enough (Revised)
For the first time in nineteen years I'm planning
Christmas with my parents, to be with them as
one singing Carols, preparing delicacies to eat -
but particularly singing songs mother wrote,
presenting the play she designed for us ages
ago when we twins were just six years old
Back then my brothers and dad spoiled things -
but this time we can present mother's songs less
their interference, and afterwards I can go for a
spin on brother-in-law's motorbike, making up
for events we missed when small - yes, this
Christmas will be a grand reunion ball
For the first time in nineteen years I shan't be
home; it's either or, never parents and hubby
together, and though he was angry hearing
my plans - after nineteen years he cannot
really complain - it is the first time I shall be
with them - I think it is fair,
Nineteen years is long enough
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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This Is The One
A girl consumed by fire
We all know her desire
From the plans that she has made
I have her on a promise
Immerse me in your splendor
All the plans that I have made
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Shes waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
Shes waited for
Id like to leave the country
For a month of sundays
Burn the town where I was born
If only shed believe me
Bellona belladonna
Burn me out or bring me home
And this is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Shes waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh, this is the one
This is the one
Ive waited for
Oh this is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
Ive waited for
This is the one
Oh this is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
Ive waited for
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Oh this is the one
This is the one
Ive waited for
It may go right
But it might go wrong
This is the one
This is the one
Shes waited for
And this is the one
This is the one
This is the one
This is the one
Shes waited for
And this is the one
Oh this is the one
Ah this is the one
This is the one
Ive waited for
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faery Song
Sung by the people of Faery over Diarmuid and Grania, in their bridal sleep under a Cromlech.
We who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told:
Give to these children, new from the world,
Silence and love;
And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,
And the stars above:
Gie to these children, new from the world,
Rest far from men.
Is anything better, anything better?
Tell us it then:
Us who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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27 Years! ! ! ! !
27 years of my life-
I lived like a wife,
waiting for my husband kiss;
Which i always missed.
27 years of my life -
Waited all the nights,
To share my happiness and sadness;
And i felt it was madness.
27 years of my life-
I spent with unknown husband,
Who has time to work;
And I felt like a jerk.
27 years of my life-
I spent with boredom,
And being a loyal wife;
I lost my freedom.
After 27 years of my life-
I still feel something missing,
I still keep looking;
And still waiting.
And the next 27 years will pass by:
Without my husband near by.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Old-age Homes
People keep orphanage for puppies.
People keep orphanage for lame dogs.
No one keep orphanage for old dogs,
Who won't live more to wag at them.
Old men are poorly attended.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Song of Myself, I, II, VI & LII
I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil,
this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and
their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never
forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
poem by Walt Whitman
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11.11.11
Today is the 11th of November 2011!
And, you were born at 11: 11 A.M.27 years ago! !
However, the kiss of your lips with my muse was like,
The sweet muse of love and care in the land of beauty!
For, you are all that i need.
At 11: 11 P.M. i found your nakedness to the world so sweet!
And like the words of love to satisfy my muse in the land of beautiful roses;
But, i have a lot to learn from you as well,
Because, you are 27 years old today and,
You are a virgin! !
You were born 27 years ago but,
The sweet love of your muse came and touched my heart!
And, you will always remember my kiss;
For, this love is all about you and i! !
And like words of peace in the land of unity,
For, i am always ready fro your love.
11.11.11!
And like the date reserved for many Germans to marry;
But all over the world are the works and words of love to move us on,
For, you are like the words so sweet to touch my lips!
And i will always remember you because, you were born on this day.
You came into this world 27 years ago in the land of survival! !
Naked to the world to respect your muse;
But, the joy of your birth had brought peace to your culture,
For, you have really made a mark to respect my muse.
You were born on the 11th of November 1984,
And today, you are 27 years olf to respect the muse of love;
But your first kiss came along like the works of peace,
Because, you waited for it for a very long time! !
And today, you are ready for marriage;
But, try to keep your virginity for the man of your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think a film should have a gestation period of at least two or three years.
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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