The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.
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Tarantella - Sour Grapes
I admitted that I am utterly charming;
my specialty is to feed sour grapes,
to femmes causing a total disarming,
from this entrancing, none escapes.
After we jumped on the sand dunes,
and fighting against untamed sharks,
twas the hour of listening to tunes,
vented by an orbiting of love quarks.
I danced barefooted on the grapes,
on vigorous must-making tarantella,
thus I approached your curvy shapes,
hmm.. I knew your name was Stella! !
Was it not? While dancing I kissed,
those sour grapes you were holding,
and you insisted that I had to feed,
one by one the grapes on beholding.
What was that name; maybe Maria?
(stiff memory never helped my brain)
O, sour grapes! I called you Allegria,
singing Rossini's 'La Danza' refrain.
You stated you loved only the must,
your vine crown spelled 'Angioletta';
it did not? This loss made me aghast,
I thought Rossini called you Giulietta!
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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My Fathers Eyes
(by eric clapton)
Sailing down behind the sun,
Waiting for my prince to come.
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again.
Just a toerag on the run.
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him?
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies.
And as I watch this seedling grow,
Feel my heart start to overflow.
Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
Thats when I need them,
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears.
Im like a bridge that was washed away;
My foundations were made of clay.
As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bragging Modesty
Why boast modesty? Wasn't handpicked
Bragging seems silly, when was obligation strict.
Posing wise on patterns borrowed by others
Followed a code & custom, or advise by mothers.
Justifying tartness, when Grapes felt sour
Choice will be different, when given some power.
Sour now bad and 'the grapes weren't mine'
Go with flock, is their new punch line.
Decency is out; it's Vanity that's in
Advance WE are, hold up the chin.
(Dear) Modesty is a virtue but its flaunting isn't smart
Simple or Not, be honest with all heart.
poem by Samima Shah
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Mango
in my youth
i did not wait for ripe mangoes
what we experience
is that
they are better eaten raw
sour
makes our tongues twist
and want for more
makes our eyes limp
and want for more
makes our tongues salivate
wanting for more
more of raw life, green hopes,
powerful stains that
mark our puberty pangs
sour memories that make us
want life more
garnished with salt and soy
and shrimp
that makes us ask for more
raw life, slices of salivations
no incantations
pouting lips, grinning teeth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fathers Are The Men From Sky
Fathers, the men who are like a pen
We never can see whatever is going on inside them
But suddenly that pen is finished and then?
Fathers, the men who try hard for the pleasure of their family
They just want the less for themselves because of the comfort of their children
Looking forward to spend a day with his family in a place that is hilly
Fathers, the men who justify the wishes of their children to their own wishes
They just live to see the victory of their children and family
But their life sometimes is as short as the golden fishes
Fathers, the men who are noble, they leave their tired face out of the house's door
They came in with a happy face, but we know they are tired from inside
We know that they are sad from the core.
Fathers, the men who listen to the pain of family members
People who are powerful to solve the problems and hard conditions
But no one has the ear to understand them; they just talk with the embers
Fathers,
Warm and kind people who never bother
Fathers,
Who are unique in their way, after them there is no tother
Fathers,
Are the men who are like the kind brothers.
poem by Ellias Anderson
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At The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
AT THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
At the edge of the edge of the edge
There is another invisible edge
And this too has an edge and another edge
Edges unending
Beyond our comprehension
Waiting for us to fall down and down-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
I write on
Has the great descent already begun
And am I in the midst of it
As I pretend to go on?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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On The Edge Of My Old Age
ON THE EDGE OF MY OLD AGE
On the edge of my old age
A strange calm comes to me
I have done what I have done
Whatever it be.
On the edge of my old age
Anger is my soul
I have not climbed the mountain
And now I’m far too old.
On the edge of my old age
I still wait to see
What will become
Of all I dreamed.
On the edge of my old age
Joy in my life
I have written for years
And still love to write
On the edge of my old age
Still striving to be
I must strive with more courage
No matter what be
On the edge of my old age
The omnipresent fear
A pained burden forever
A mind unclear.
On the edge of my old age
Enjoying my little life
Praying for grandchildren
For my children and wife.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sour Grapes
I dont care if the sun dont shine
But it better or people will wonder
And I couldnt care less if it never stopped rainin
cept the kids are afraid of the thunder
Chorus:
Say sour grapes
You can laugh and stare
Say sour grapes
But I dont care
I couldnt care less if I didnt have a friend
cept people would say I was crazy
And I wouldnt work cause I dont need money
But the same folks would say I was lazy
Repeat chorus
I couldnt care less if she never come back
I was gonna leave her anyway
And all the good times that we shared
Dont mean a thing to day
Repeat chorus
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Day A Hungry Fox
One day, a hungry fox,
Saw a high vineyard.
It was full of sweet grapes,
He might not have, he feared.
They were hanging in such
A height, that he jumped
And jumped, but couldn't get.
He had to remain starved,
Again he jumped, and jumped,
And went on jumping ever.
But all his efforts were in vain,
He failed to touch that cluster.
Being upset, he got angry
As he wasted his hour.
Before leaving out of pain,
He said--Grapes are very sour!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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The grapes are sour, said the fox, when he could not get at them.
On The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
ON THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
On the edge of the edge of the edge
There is nowhere to go-
Home is lost,
And all the distances have broken down-
One cannot move
One can only fear-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
Falling is fear-
And holding one’s ground
One step at a time
Is a small miracle
One is not sure
One can make alone.
On the edge of the edge of the edge-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Sad Melody From An Old Vineyard!
There are no standards of taste in wine, cigars, poetry, prose, etc. Each man's own taste is the standard, and a majority vote cannot decide for him or in any slightest degree affect the supremacy of his own standard.' -Mark Twain,1895
Though the ripen sour grapes sleep in the moonlit night
Yet the Landlady awakes with a solitary song.
Her fiance sleeps in another vineyard beyond the hills
Those grapes are sweet it seems?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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No one jumped, all were pushed
Those children wonder why
Why their parents seem to die
Each day they lose some life
And each day those children cry
.
Those mothers they weep
Those fathers they hold the heart that leaks
And those children they are what this world seeks
Because those children aren’t weak
.
The children they sit and watch
They watch their parents being eaten
The world they deem to be a place where everyone can be free
But, when they touch the street they only feel tension and heat
.
This world it burns
And this world it will eat
This world will be
What breaks your beauty
.
Growing up they will see
That no one wanted to fall down
No one wanted to let go
No one jumped they all stood only weak*
.
Trying to stand up straight
Trying to fight with faith
Trying to beat the world
But, only to pushed over and never found
.
Those children they sit and watch
And they in time become the weak*
They stand on the cliff
And just let the world push it’s the only way of becoming free*
poem by Victoria Martinez
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The Stranger
The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk--
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.
The men of my own stock,
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wanted to,
They are used to the lies I tell;
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy or sell.
The Stranger within my gates,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control--
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.
The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.
This was my father's belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf--
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children's teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Children Need Their Fathers
The mothers are now saying,
Their children need their fathers.
But weren't they they ones,
Who kept the fathers away?
And had the law hunt them down...
After having the courts chase they,
With warnings to keep their distance...
From these same children,
The mothers are saying...
Need their fathers!
And the fathers...
Who have discovered a peace of mind,
Are no longer trying to find excuses...
Why their fatherless children,
Seem to be out of their minds.
No matter who tries,
To blame their lack of discipline...
With no respect to others to show or give,
And put this on their shoulders...
To claim this is a reaction to their absence.
People who make decisions with ignorance,
Are always guaranteed to put their activities...
In the path of someone else to fault and shame!
'How many children raised by their mothers,
Compared to those raised by their fathers...
Have issues of discipline?
Or sit in prisons?
As a direct result of those who have created,
This statistic...
As if it had developed on its own!
Like hunger, homelessness and racism.'
~Excuse me?
I think you are looking for the excelerated classrooms.
You've stepped into a remedial one,
By mistake.~
'I'm sorry.
I was getting eye contact.
And immediately I thought they were paying attention.
Where are the excelerated classrooms? '
~Up those stairs, take a right...
And they will be the ones,
Where the light is shining bright.
You will not miss them.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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