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The Path of a Gambler
A man sought coin in a voluminous fashion,
a few more pounds to add to his loot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
A father has lost his son to a single action;
when he craved to add to the tempting fruit,
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.
His gambler's heart soon became a beacon;
racing, waiting for a spotter's toot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
This one risk is only but a fraction
of the goal which he was to pursuit.
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.
When his hands started to feel the burden,
one that he had been too blind to compute,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
When his bets were lost, he heard a beckon,
he sought to close the the tribute.
A man sought coin in a voluminous fashion,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
poem by Michael Roysdon
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Big Joe
Once by a star a beautiful bouncy baby was born
The blooming fields were full of the finest corn
Little Joe was a longed for heir in a noble line
The village celebrated and blessed him in wine
Chorus:
A prodigal son entered their life
A perfect future with no strife…
Time will tell he grew up a very handsome man
Succeeded in all and always with a perfect plan
Little Joe got only A’s in his expensive school
His mother adored her most precious jewel
Chorus:
A prodigal intelligent famous son
Life for him was always fun…
Times went by and Joe had to go to the City
His father’s pride but mum thought a pity
He ended up a notorious lover and flirt
Joe enjoyed the limelight and all the dirt
Chorus:
The most perfect prodigal son
Now his life all went wrong…
Some say it was too much whiskey and cocaine
No one really knows what went to his brain
Big Joe as he now was called in the town
He lost all senses and birthright crown
The prodigal son turned a cheat
Now all alone on the street…
poem by Isabel Lavender
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The Great Chance
NOW strikes the hour upon the clock
The black sheep may rebuild the years
May lift the father's pride he broke
And wipe away his mother's tears.
To him, the mark for thrifty scorn;
God hath another chance to give,
Sets in his heart a flame new-born
By which his muddied soul may live.
This is the day of the prodigal,
The decent people's shame and grief,
When he shall make amends for all.
The way to Glory's bloody and brief.
Clean from his baptism, of blood,
New from the fire he springs again,
In shining raiment white and good,
Beyond the wise, home-keeping man.
Somewhere to-night-no tears be shed!-
With shaking hands they turn the sheet
To find his name among the dead,
Flower of the Army and the Fleet.
They tell, with proud and stricken face,
Of his white boyhood far away-
Who talked of trouble or disgrace?
'Our splendid son is dead!' they say.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every parent is at some time the father of the unreturned prodigal, with nothing to do but keep his house open to hope.
quote by John Ciardi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prodigal Blues
Riding my life
Like a run-a-way train
Moving from
One track to that
Howling, crying,
Screaming at the moon
Only my voice came back
Only the echo came back
When I was a boy
Daddy told me
Grow tall
Yes and billy dont crawl
Taught me how to ride
Set me out on my own
And I never came back
And yes Id do it again
Oh wouldnt you
Yeah Id do it again
A-huh oh yeah
Do it again
Baby
Wouldnt you?
Remember
When I lied
Just when you
Needed me
Now I sit
Alone and cry
Cos now I believe in mercy
Remember when I lied
Just when you needed me baby
I believe in mercy
Riding, walking
Looking so cool
Guess I crossed
Over the borderline
Treated like a dunce
Who just cant read
Did I fool me too?
And yes Id do it again
Oh wouldnt you
Yes Id do it again
Aha yeah Id do it again
Baby
Wouldnt you
Remember
When I lied
Just when you
Needed me
Now I sit
Alone and cry
Cos now I believe in mercy
Remember when I lied
Now that you
Needed me
Yes I believe in mercy
I said come here
Look into my face
And hear into my heart
Hesitation
Could re-arrange
The other side
To your love
Take hold now baby
And take
What other
Lovers have not
Times is changing
Will they re-arrange
The other side to your love
No-woah woah woah
Yeah
Wooooo
(come home
Here he is impatient one
Come home
Come home
Tell the story)
Come home
Here he is
The impatient one
Come home
To claim a glory
Prodigal son
Come home
Prodigal bum
Come home
Prodigal son
Prodigal son
Come home
To claim a glory
Prodigal son
Come home
Prodigal son
Come home
Prodigal bum
Here he comes
Yeah that prodigal son
Ooooh
Hes the one
To tell his story
Cmon to tell his story
Tell his story
To claim his glory
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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The Dead Parents And The Prodigal Sons
at this point
of their lives the stingy parents
now dead
shall have no regrets
for then their time shall come
to squander
what was saved: land and jewelries
and whatever
shall be thrown away like garbage
for the pigs,
sometimes one asks
if the prodigal sons are prodigal
because when they
were young
they were deprived of what
is due
kids who were not allowed to play
stored in the room
like some stuffed toys.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rest Now In Peace, Father!
Father, never shall I understand, nor forgive, what it is that you did,
Nor too, shall I provide allowance for the mask, behind which you hid!
Many a person you have hurt, beyond any measure-
Yet, you went about your salacious way at your leisure!
Effected you have those that hardly even knew you-
Causal to unjust treatment for me, because of my relation to you!
The Prodigal Father, surely you could be labeled-
Fear and paranoia, under guise of maternal protection, you have enabled!
In many ways, you and I never even made acqaintance,
A monster, though, the King of the castle, I, one of your tenants!
Fodder has your behavior been, for fear irrational-
Led the way has this, for claims sensational!
Rest now in peace, Father-I can not, so do not, judge you:
Alas, my heart was broken upon the day I was forced to begrudge you!
Maurice Harris,12 January 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Going Home
Everyday the father longed to see
His lost son come back to the family
Looking out his heart would yearn
hoping each day his son would return
For the son had taken his inheritance
and left without a backward glance
To spend his great fortune having fun
was the intention of this youngest son
Wasting his time in riotous revelry
Living a life of sin and debauchery
Gained many friends through his wealth
Sang and danced and enjoyed himself
But then the time came to his dismay
when his money began to drain away
Then all his friends left him alone
To cope with life all on his own
Then a severe famine came his way
and he took a job to survive each day
Feeding the swine he wanted to fill
His empty stomach with the pig swill
Cold and miserable and full of dismay
He thought of his family so far away
'Here I am starving to death, ' he said
'Whilst my fathers servants still have bread'
So off he went this Prodigal Son
Famished, penniless and all alone
But the father saw him far away
and ran to meet him on the way
It brought to the father such delight
To see this great heart warming sight
For all the time the son had been away
The father looked out for him each day
'Father I've sinned and don't deserve
To be your son so I've come to serve
Forgive me and take me on I pray
To be your hired servant from this day'
'Kill the fatted calf and let us celebrate'
The father said because the news was great
'For my son has returned from the dead
Clothe him with the best robe, ' he said
But his brother could not understand
The reason why the party was so grand
'Father I've always been good, ' he said
'Why didn't you give me a party instead'
'Son all that I have belongs to you
You could have one when you wanted to
But this is my son who once was dead
and has now returned to me, ' he said
This wonderful parable that Jesus told
Speaks of a son returning to the fold
I too was just like that prodigal child
So lost and helpless and all beguiled
Then I went to the cross of the crucified
where Jesus greeted me arms opened wide
By His shed blood removed my disgrace
and held me in His loving embrace
Christmas, 1880
Great-hearted child, thy very being
The Son
,
Who know'st the hearts of all us prodigals;-
For who is prodigal but he who has gone
Far from the true to heart it with the false?-
Who, who but thou, that, from the animals',
Know'st all the hearts, up to the Father's own,
Can tell what it would be to be alone!
Alone! No father!-At the very thought
Thou, the eternal light, wast once aghast;
A death in death for thee it almost wrought!
But thou didst haste, about to breathe thy last,
And call'dst out
Father
ere thy spirit passed,
Exhausted in fulfilling not any vow,
But doing his will who greater is than thou.
That we might know him, thou didst come and live;
That we might find him, thou didst come and die;
The son-heart, brother, thy son-being give-
We too would love the father perfectly,
And to his bosom go back with the cry,
Father, into thy hands I give the heart
Which left thee but to learn how good thou art!
There are but two in all the universe-
The father and his children-not a third;
Nor, all the weary time, fell any curse!
Not once dropped from its nest an unfledged bird
But thou wast with it! Never sorrow stirred
But a love-pull it was upon the chain
That draws the children to the father again!
O Jesus Christ, babe, man, eternal son,
Take pity! we are poor where thou art rich:
Our hearts are small; and yet there is not one
In all thy father's noisy nursery which,
Merry, or mourning in its narrow niche,
Needs not thy father's heart, this very now,
With all his being's being, even as thou!
poem by George MacDonald
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Hymn 123
The repenting prodigal.
Luke 15:13,etc.
Behold the wretch whose lust and wine
Had wasted his estate,
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat!
"I die with hunger here," he cries,
"I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies
And bounteous are his hands.
"I'll go, and with a mournful tongue
Fall down before his face,-
Father, I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace."
He said, and hastened to his home,
To seek his father's love;
The father saw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.
He ran, and fell upon his neck,
Embraced and kissed his son;
The rebel's heart with sorrow brake
For follies he had done.
"Take off his clothes of shame and sin,"
The father gives command,
"Dress him in garments white and clean,
With rings adorn his hand.
"A day of feasting I ordain,
Let mirth and joy abound;
My son was dead, and lives again,
Was lost, and now is found."
poem by Isaac Watts
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My Father Was A Loser
My Father Was A Loser.
My Father Was A Punk.
My Father Was Abussive.
My Father Was A Drunk.
My Father Was Stricked.
My Father Was Mean.
My Father Did Drugs.
My Father Was A Feen.
On My 13th Birthday, My Father Left My Mom.
Ever Since Then, My Life Became Calm.
poem by Tania Nuno
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O Father O Father
O father o father your never a bother even though you’re my only father
o father o father
your always there
o father o father
your always a caring father
o father o father
your my father
o father o father
I love you has my father
poem by Jessica lee Workman
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O Faher O Father
O father o father your never a bother even though you’re my only father
o father o father
your always there
o father o father
your always a caring father
o father o father
your my father
o father o father
I love you has my father
poem by Jessica Lee Workman
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Father, Can you see me?
Can You See Me Father?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me through this night?
Father, are you with me?
I look up at the sky, and wonder why, I feel so alone now...
Father, will you help me?
Im afraid to close my eyes.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, if I sleep now, will you be watching over me this night?
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, the world I see is so much larger, than I remember when you were here with me.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me stand own my own two feet once more?
Father, Im on my knees, looking at the sky, looking for your eyes.
Father, I've lost my way, Lord, I pray for your guidance once more.
Father, what was your will, Lord, it was not mine.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, as I pray for your will, please come and show me the way, dear Lord I pray.
Amen
poem by Rose Rosado
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The Prodigal Son
My soul is grieved and my spirit in sorrow
My flesh is weak and I am without virtue
On my knees I stay as tears fill my eyes
That my eyes were a great ocean
Then will I flood the earth with my tears
And that my voice a thunder
Then will my cry be heard in the East
How am I backslidden? And how am I fallen?
How am I drawn back and plunged into such a depth?
A once mighty mountain was I
Now, here I lie, a threading of the oxen
A mire and pity of swine
Being driven away from the light
I stumble blindly in the dark
How could I have left royalty and bliss?
And now I live every moment from bleak to dismal
Being pulled down the slopes
I live without life in the valleys
There’s none to help and none to lift
I am sent into the fields where the abominable I do
An heir to the throne of a great kingdom
Now I have become as a pig
Prodigal I have become; I am the prodigal of sons!
Yet shall I revert…yes I would go back again
Go back to my father, to where I belong.
poem by Nicholas Boateng
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The beloved and the wife
I aimed at a fruit.
Some one had got it.
I was in pain, not in anger.
I shall wait to have it
If and when it is left over,
Or given by bits.
On the other hand,
I had a fruit.
Someone stealthily bit.
I threw away,
Not with pain, but with anger.
Not to have anymore,
If returned as reformed.
Why are two standards-
Prodigal beloved and prodigal wife?
Claim of ownership is the cause
25.05.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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