My father was an immigrant from Russia and my mother was first generation.
quote by Arthur Rock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Russia
Mother russia how are you sleeping
Middle winter cold winds blow
From the trees the snowflakes drifting
Swirling round like ghosts in the snow
Mother russia poetry majestic
Tells the time of a great empire
Turning round the old man ponders
Reminiscing an age gone by
Mother russia
Dance of the tsars
Hold up your heads
Be proud of what you are
Now it has come
Freedom at last
Turning the tides of history
And your past
Mother russia
Dance of the tsars
Hold up your heads
Remember who you are
Can you release
The anger the grief
Can you be happy
Now your people are free
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where woman lacks importance
Delivered and moulded by my mother,
I was identified with my father,
Who, delivered and moulded by mother,
Was identified with his father.
I go with my son; wife is an onlooker.
The son of my daughter I've no claim on.
In each generation, mother is removed
From the memory line of the family.
Let my name carry the name of mother
And of father behind it to the world.
Let me have the names of the grand mothers
And grandfathers on both sides in record.
14.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My father's father came from Russia; my mother came from Romania.
quote by Herbie Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The family tree
I am known by my father
Though equally owned by mother.
I trace from my father’s father,
And not from father’s mother
Nor my mother’s mother or father.
Has family tree any sense?
19.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Generation to generation
I am lazier than my father
And my son is lazier than me.
I learn more than my father
And my son, more than me.
I earn more than my father
And my son, more than me.
Am I secure as my father was?
Is my son secure as I am?
Generation to generation,
Do we progress or regress?
20.12.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be fanatic
Mother is a Christian, father, an Islam,
Mother’s mother, a Jain,
Mothers father, a Buddhist,
Father’s mother a Saivite,
Father’s father a Vaishnavite,
And their forefathers none,
Which religion must I be fanatic of?
24.10.2009
[saivites = followers of God Siva;
Vaishnavites = followers of God Krishna]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Immigrant Here!
i am an immigrant here,
i claim no nation,
choose no side...
but this earth is my home,
formed from it's dirt,
it's bottomless oceans...
my friends are trees,
mountains, and rivers...
the long grasses my beard,
the great plains my soul.
i am the birthing of spring,
the death of the snow...
i am an immigrant here,
many colors, all human.
i am the hunted, and the hunter,
i am the pounding of waves
held in the tiniest shell.
i am wind, fire, and darkness...
i am an immigrant here,
i am the plow of the man,
the valley of the woman.
i am the roar of the cities,
the hush of the forests...
i am the water spilling o'er the dam!
i am an immigrant here,
illegal only to those who fear!
the river i crossed,
i will cross again!
my only map the lines
in an old man's hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Russia! ! ! !
Russia has power
The power to build a tower
They will never cower
At the site of a bigger tower
Because they still have power
Russia has power over stuff
Because they are really tough
People in Russia never ever run
Because they always have a gun
Russia owns a big bomb
AND SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO THEM!
poem by Puby Mannheimer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Pity The Poor Immigrant
I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he wouldve stayed home,
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is always left so alone.
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with evry breath,
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands & Knees
You see me walking away
What more could I say than sorry
I failed by all your complaints
You pushed a life change but its not me
And filthy hands lay apon my chest
Lay upon my sin, but I do it for green
And in your mind you are blind
And your back turn so fine
Where were you when I needed you most
So mother so father
Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
My self-indulgence to blame
For all of the shame in the family
You dont know what its like
How I feel how I cry
How I hate the way I hate my life
So mother so father Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
Pues madre, y padre
Esta vida no quiero vivir
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
song performed by by Unloco
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As you know, I'm an immigrant. I came over here as an immigrant, and what gave me the opportunities, what made me to be here today, is the open arms of Americans. I have been received. I have been adopted by America.
quote by Arnold Schwarzenegger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My parents were both from extremely different backgrounds. My father's Italian, my mother was of Swedish descent. They're both first-generation Americans.
quote by Susan Lucci
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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We must work together to save and strengthen Social Security not just for my father's generation but also for my daughters' generation.
quote by John Thune
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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