I don't mind being a grandfather; I've been a mother for so many years. You just can't believe what it's like being a father. Especially when you come out of the chaos of the road to getting married and having children.
quote by Steven Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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He Married
My father married a nurse!
He, my father, married a teacher
He never married out of being forced
So, he chose to marry a leader
A maiden, an edifice of beauty!
His attempt wasn't thwarted
So, he tied the knot with a deity
And thereafter never parted
Even till tomorrow, he's still with his lady
My father married a cook!
Dishes served to his content, he never bothers
It is never a fluke!
My father married my mother
She is the plant, he is the water
poem by Alawoki Akeem Opeyemi
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Improbable wishes
No remembrance of my great
grandfather,
Who bequeathed us a mansion.
No gratitude to my grandfather,
Who fed us with sweets and coins.
No goodwill to my grandmother,
Who left us with cash and vessels.
No gratefulness to my mother,
Whose jewels and things we shared.
No love and passion for my father
Who lives somewhere.
I would join their caravan
But with memories of
Being remembered by
My children and their children
For what I will have left.
31.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Nellie Clark
I was only eight years old;
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it, except
That I was frightened and told my Mother;
And that my Father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy,
Fifteen years old, except for his Mother.
Nevertheless the story clung to me.
But the man who married me, a widower of thirty-five,
Was a newcomer and never heard it
Till two years after we were married.
Then he considered himself cheated,
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin.
Well, he deserted me, and I died
The following winter.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost Father
he will never say im there
never be able to say i care
as i grow and change through the years
i will never know what it is like
to be daddys little girl with my father by my side
my father was different
cruel and lost in a mind
that could never see a better light
satan took him over he took my father
we were sad and even mad
how do you forgive a father
who will never give me his blessings
never be there on my wedding day to walk me down the asile
never be there when i need to cry
he will never be a grandfather to my child
my father ruiened many lifes
not being able to face himself
one early morning he was not to awake
now sometimes i blame myself
i guess for being selfish and wanting to much
why could we not help and make him see?
poem by Shannon Willner
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Family Man
Written by lindsey buckingham and richard dashut.
Walk down this road
When the road gets rough
I fall down
I get up
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
Walk down this road
In the cool of the night
Dont know whats wrong
But I do know whats right
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father also mother
Father was
Male...
Mother was
Female...
Thats all
For children....
Father with out
Not mother...
mother without
Not father...
All are same...
Father's works
Mother doing...
Mother's works
Father doing...
So...
Father also
Mother...
Mother also
Father...
Male... female
No for husban and wife...?
Or for children...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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If You Only Knew
By my grandfather's bed, my mother is reading,
Psalm 62, God is our refuge,
My grandfather stirs, could it be,
he is waking, one final time,
he has something to say,
If you only knew what lies awaiting
If you could only see what I can see
If you could only hear the music playing
The angels singing sweet victory
Oh, if you only knew, if you only knew,
How much he loves you
By my grandfather's bed, my mother is broken,
Psalm 17, O God I call on you,
She doesn't want to hear
Any words about leaving
My grandfather says
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's All Relative: : Humour
My mother’s brother’s sister’s name is Grace
She’s my aunt and likes to go from place to place
My mother’s sister’s brother’s name is Brad
He’s my uncle and he is my cousin’s Dad
My grandmother on my mother’s side
Is my maternal gran, she is my grandfather’s bride
She also is my father’s mother-in-law
And not surprisingly they often go to war
My cousin is the nephew of my mother
His father happens to be my mother’s brother
My aunty’s niece is in fact myself
If you're confused please don't look at me for help
(Sydney, Australia - 2005)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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God's Playthings
Although we are like God’s children
But actually we are not
Because no sexual organ
Was involved in the process of creation of souls
The building blocks of everything that exist!
Besides we are not inside God’s womb
We are actually inside God’s mind!
Ideal parents never hurt
Their good children
But God hurts so many
Of His so-called children!
So many people are starving
Day after day!
So many people are suffering
From diseases and injuries!
Natural disasters
Kill so many people every year!
God is not our Mother and Father;
Mother and Father are much more
Affectionate, loving and caring!
Never-the-less God is the Best
Cause He loves most of us so much
Though we are not His children
And we are nothing
But playthings of God!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Facing the Truth of Your Lies
Back in September of 2004 -
A couple of months after
My short stay in the hospital
For severe depression -
I tried to contact you to see
If you still missed me,
As you rudely told me
To leave you alone,
That you were married
And had moved, had your
Last name changed to
Your new husband's
And were expecting
A brand new child.
Two years later I learn
The truth through none
Other than that fake 'husband'
Of yours, who posted a message
In one of his hosting forums
Back in 2005 when he was 19
And you were 28.
And so I face the truth, that
You wanted me to face
So much - the truth that
You were always lying
To me and to others
About who you really are -
An insecure and confused
Woman with two children
Without a real father.
No, you were never married
To that geek, who's so good
With computers, who
Drives around fixing other
People's technical problems,
Putting 8-9 hours each day
And not going to school,
To support you and your
Two kids, who are not even
His in a biological or
Legal sense.
For you two were 'living in sin'
Together, as he puts it,
Being 'disowned' by the
Majority of his family
And his manipulative
Mother, who was using
Him to get back at his father.
Well, it looks like he traded
His mother for a new one,
Who's just as manipulative
And conniving.
And I wonder what you do
When he's not around?
Do you stay at home and
Play a fake 'good wife'?
Or do you explore new men
And new options?
Oh yes,
He calls you his fiancée now -
After two years of living together -
But knowing you, I wonder
If you really want to get
Married and miss a chance
That something better comes
Along?
Well, I wish you luck in
Your decision, but I
Just want to say that
I loved you even if I was
A fool to believe you.
March 30,2006
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Play Children Play
I came home late one night,
In my door stood my daughter-in-law,
Park your car, I have something to tell you,
As I entered the door, she said, "Mother left today."
Play children play, your mother left today.
There is no where for a writer to start,
When his wife leaves and breaks her children's heart,
When she walked out, she never said good by,
No one has ever known why.
Play children play, today your Mother went away.
Many things we planned to do that day,
For no reason she just walked away,
Twenty years has past and gone,
Some how we took care of our home,
You children have married, but still alone.
Play children play, for the day your Mother went away.
poem by Kenneth McKinley Davis
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First Teacher
First teacher is Mother
Next comes father
Mother gives birth
Mother is the earth
After five years
Father takes care
No substitute of
Father and mother
And they are ours
Life's newspaper.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Father & Son
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
The son, bright-eyed in the morning,
The father, lined and drawn,
The son became the father
On the day that you were born.
We’ve all set out on the highway
Our fathers wished us well,
The sons became the fathers
In the same distinctive spell;
The road of all beginnings
Is all there is to lend,
But many a twist, and many a turn
Has marred us at the end.
He was my father’s father,
I am my father’s son,
We’ve travelled as far, and farther
Than our father’s years have run;
The twists and turns of fortune
Mean nothing, lost or won,
But the love of a father’s father,
And the love of a father’s son.
3 September 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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In My Father's Shoes
The lamp of the bright life darkened.
When my father life was taken by God.
It was the darkest moment ever
experienced by my mother and family.
We are family of ten. I am the eldest.
That time I was twenty years of age.
A new graduate and has no job yet.
My mother's teary, query eyes was on me.
I saw in her eyes what she meant
sickly diabetic mother, ten children
with five years old as the youngest.
Thats a lot to feed in one day and on.
I was dumbstruck. Like in a black cloak
on my face with small hole to peep.
I have to visualize the future. Survival
I have to toil and family to take care of.
In storm of life we are in. We should get out.
I step up, step in to my father's shoes.
And walk to search the sunshine of hope.
Then I took the road across the ocean.
From east, to west end road sunshine I found.
At that side of the world I got the decent job.
Earnings, enough to pay my mother's
health bills and family expenses.
Finally time came, self sacrifices paid off.
My brothers and sisters finished college.
Load to my shoulders time to unload
That's I think of, but I can't.
Poverty in my native land, social cancer of sort.
Still I have to run, carry the load to bear.
To take the shoes off? Nay. Still to wear, support.
I have conscience, a heart, I care.
poem by Ency Bearis
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Mother Is Dying: Part 2 (Filicide)
Mother is infuriated
Mother is irritated
Mother is agitated
Mother is aggravated
Tormented by Her children
Sickened by Her children
Scarred by Her children
She is beginning to die
Mother was gentle
Mother was accepting
Mother was enduring
Though mother is now corrupted,
Similar to Her children
Her anger boils from her very core
Swirling vortexes of hatred dominate the skies
Her loathe floods Her children’s lives
The incarnate of Her disgust with Her children
Is devastating and cataclysmic
Her children can no longer find
Sanctuary from mother’s mercy
Mother is too enraged to rationalize
Mother will create The Rapture.
Mother will cause The Apocalypse.
Mother will eliminate humanity.
Mother will commit filicide.
poem by Alex Gomez
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