I was a queen, and you took away my crown; a wife, and you killed my husband; a mother, and you deprived me of my children. My blood alone remains: take it, but do not make me suffer long.
quote by Marie Antoinette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Edward, Edward
'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Edward, Edward:
Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Some other evil ye fear, O.'
'O, I have killed my father dear,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my father dear,
Alas! and woe is me, O!'
'And what penance will ye suffer for that,
Edward, Edward?
And what penance will ye suffer for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mother, mother:
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
Mother, mother:
I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your children and your wife
When ye go over the sea, O?'
'The world is large, let them beg through life,
Mother, mother:
The world is large, let them beg throw life,
For them never more will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your own mother dear?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Mother, mother:
The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Such counsels you gave to me, O.'
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hera
I am Hera,
And you may know me
As the queen of the gods,
And as Zeus's wife.
Despite what they say about me,
I do not really like my husband,
For he is a real jerk.
I mean, he gives all this
Attention to other women,
And never gives any attention
To me.
It makes me mad,
And, of course, jealous,
Because I only have two children,
And one is a spoiled brat,
And the other walks with a freaking limp!
I mean, maybe I give
My husband to hard of a time,
But, truthfully, I can be reasonable;
And, yes, I am reasonable!
I listen to my husband,
And I am there when he needs me,
And I am there when he has problems.
But, I just wish he wasn't so selfish
And I wish he understood what
The true meaning of marriage was!
Sometimes, I feel like I want
To kill him,
But, of course, I cannot,
Even though my envy
Gets so high,
So I punish him through
Killing his bastard children.
Yes, I have smitten
A few humans in my lifetime,
As my husband smote many
Things in his lifetime,
As well,
And, yes, they were all his children.
I think I have killed so
Many that I have lost count,
But I do know that I killed
Hercules,
Had Paris killed,
Had Hector killed,
Maybe Theseus,
For I cannot remember,
Put my wrath on Jason,
And also my wrath
Onto Medea,
And I have also
Killed many other people.
Heck, I helped Troy
Fall to the ground,
For that is why it is no more,
Just because Paris thought
Aphrodite was more
Beautiful than I was.
I mean, come on,
Aphrodite may be beautiful,
But she is like a prostitute,
Sleeping around all the time,
And having fun while doing it, too.
I, on the other hand, do not
Do that,
For I am loyal to my
Husband, no matter what.
Oh, okay, you have me there;
I did cheat on him
Once in my life,
And I had that awful
Child with the limp,
And man,
I cannot stand it,
For I guess I was punished
By the Fates
For that,
After all.
But, still, I do not sleep
Around like Aphrodite does,
For she is a creep!
Dang, I hate her,
If anything.
So, yes,
Life is pretty
Unhappy with my husband,
But I do manage to trick him
Every once in a while,
For he can easily be seduced,
For he likes who I am
Whenever I come across him,
And I am the master of seduction,
So I take him to bed,
And he does everything I ask of him.
It is ingenious, I know, right?
Yeah, it works,
But life could still be better,
Even though I do have fun with
Trickery every once in a while.
I hope you all enjoy yourselves,
For I have some stuff
That I need to do,
And I will go to it.
Thank you so much,
And it was nice meeting you.
poem by James Roberts
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Why this date each year
The dawn of this date
The eighteenth March
Drowns me in sadness
As on this day in the year nineteen sixty
My mother, in her early thirties
Left us for heavenly abode
Making me and my sister
Suffer all these years
The lack of mother's love
I did not know that day
How much I missed her
But, as I became a parent
And as I started observing
The demonstration of love
By my wife to our children
I realised that
This day marks the heaviest loss
I could suffer
How I wish that every one
Here on earth
Is fortunate and lucky
To enjoy mother's love
As long as possible
And how I wish that every mother
On this earth
Stays alive and keeps showering
Her love on to her children
As long as possible
You understand as to why I question
Why this date each year
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Cry Baby Cry
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better.
The king of marigold was in the kitchen
Cooking breakfast for the queen
The queen was in the parlour
Playing piano for the children of the king.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
The king was in the garden
Picking flowers for a friend who came to play
The queen was in the playroom
Painting pictures for the childrens holiday.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
The duchess of kircaldy always smiling
And arriving late for tea
The duke was having problems
With a message at the local bird and bee.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
At twelve o'clock a meeting round the table
For a seance in the dark
With voices out of nowhere
Put on specially by the children for a lark.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry cry cry cry baby
Make your mother sigh.
She's old enough to know better
Cry baby cry
Cry cry cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The depth of relations
I am dying.
My mother is crying. I am lost
My wife is crying. She lost me
So are my children. They lost shelter
I am waxing.
My mother is smiling. I will not suffer.
My wife is smiling. She will not suffer.
So are my children. They could prosper
21.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad
MODERN TRANSLATION (original below)
'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Edward, Edward:
Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Some other evil ye fear, O.'
'O, I have killed my father dear,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my father dear,
Alas! and woe is me, O!'
'And what penance will ye suffer for that,
Edward, Edward?
And what penance will ye suffer for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mother, mother:
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
Mother, mother:
I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your children and your wife
When ye go over the sea, O?'
'The world is large, let them beg through life,
Mother, mother:
The world is large, let them beg throw life,
For them never more will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your own mother dear?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Mother, mother:
The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Such counsels you gave to me, O.'
OLD SCOTS VERSION
'Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid,
Edward, Edward?
Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid?
And quhy sae sad gang zee, O?'
'O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither:
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid:
And I had nae mair bot hee, O.'
'Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward:
Zour haukis bluid was never sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and free, O.'
'Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward:
Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ze drie, O.'
'O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas! and wae is mee, O!'
'And quhatten penance wul ze drie for that,
Edward, Edward?
And quhatten penance will ze drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me, O.'
'Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
Mither, mither:
Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea, O.'
'And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha',
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wull ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha',
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
Mither, mither:
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee, O.'
'And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife
Quhan ze gang ovir the sea, O?'
'The warldis room, late them beg throw life,
Mither, mither:
The warldis room, let them beg throw life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.'
'And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir,
Sic counseils ze gave to me, O.'
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Christmas Song
She was his girl, he was her boyfriend
Shed be his wife, and make him her husband.
A surprise on the way any day any day
One healthy little giggling, dribbling baby boy
The wisemen came, three made their way
To shower him with love while he lay in the hay
Shower him with love, love, love
Love,love,love
Love,love was all around.
Not very much of his childhood was known
Kept his mother mary worried always out on his own
He met another mary, who for a reasonable fee,
Less than reputable was known to be
His heart was full of love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love was all around.
When jesus christ nailed to his tree
Said oh daddy-o, I can see how it all soon will be
I came to shed a little light on this darkening sea
Instead I fear Ive spilled the blood of my children all around
The blood of my children all around
The blood of my childrens all around.
So Im told, so the story goes
The people he knew were less than golden-hearted
Gamblers and robbers,
Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers
Like you and me, like you and me
Rumors insisted that he soon would be
For his deveations taken into custody
By the authorities, less informed than he
Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers
Searching for love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love was all around.
Preparations were made for a celebration day
He said eat this bread but think of it as me
Drink this wine and dream it will be the blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
Father up above
Why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love is all around
Father up above
Why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love, fill me love, love, yeah
Love, love, love
Love, love, and the blood of our children all around.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Problem between the In-Laws
Whether the experienced mother-in-law
or the newly qualified daughter-in-law,
both of them suffer from some cursed flaws.
As the cold war started since 'Creation'
has never ended between 'mother and wife'
the dude tries his best to convince them both.
He has to cock his ear towards the side
from which the whispers he hears
or else all of them have to be on fast.
If he colludes with one,
the other will go to hell.
If they play cat and mouse
what can this man do with feigning creatures?
His wife would conceal the healthy nuts
and at night before her husband, would ask:
' Why didn't you eat the Cashew nuts? '
and his mother would smirk and say:
'You youngones must eat the nuts to live long! '.
Each one surpasses the other in concocting
stories of joint and hip pain to evade the work
and confine him to do the household chores.
His wife blockmail him citing anti-dowry laws
and his mother warns him not to be hen-pecked.
He condones even his wife's misbehaviour of the past
to maintain peace in family life.
His child doesn't know where to go
between the mother and grandmother.
He trots in a 'Push and Pull' game
and the man should keep his doors shut in shame.
------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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A Holiday
The Wife
The house is like a garden,
The children are the flowers,
The gardener should come methinks
And walk among his bowers,
Oh! lock the door on worry
And shut your cares away,
Not time of year, but love and cheer,
Will make a holiday.
The Husband
Impossible! You women do not know
The toil it takes to make a business grow.
I cannot join you until very late,
So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.
The Wife
The feast will be like Hamlet
Without a Hamlet part:
The home is but a house, dear,
Till you supply the heart.
The Xmas gift I long for
You need not toil to buy;
Oh! give me back one thing I lack –
The love-light in your eye.
The Husband
Of course I love you, and the children too.
Be sensible, my dear, it is for you
I work so hard to make my business pay.
There, now, run home, enjoy your holiday.
The Wife (turning)
He does not mean to wound me,
I know his heart is kind.
Alas! that man can love us
And be so blind, so blind.
A little time for pleasure,
A little time for play;
A word to prove the life of love
And frighten care away!
Tho’ poor my lot in some small cot
That were a holiday.
The Husband (musing)
She has not meant to wound me, nor to vex –
Zounds! but ‘tis difficult to please the sex.
I’ve housed and gowned her like a very queen
Yet there she goes, with discontented mien.
I gave her diamonds only yesterday:
Some women are like that, do what you may.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love of man and woman
As a boy, one loves one’s mother.
As a man, one loves one’s wife
As a father one loves one’s kids.
Mother’s love is irrespective of age.
A wife loves her husband for her children.
Children grown up, they are left
To love each other for companionship
And later for their helplessness.
05.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Stream of Gaiety Vavroovahana Patra
Wife’s sweet conversation is an ocean of merriement;
Is a brook of enchantment.
In despair husband is happy with her consolation;
Kisses, congratulates, frees tension.
Husband derives profound peace with embracement;
She is tranquil as the distant firmament.
Her innocence allures day and night;
She is an ever flowing rivulet of delight.
Wife is a Heavenly Beauty;
In solitude provides delight.
Is the Queen of the night;
The kiss is a stream of gaiety.
Wife plays with passion;
Is the creator of creation.
Is a good advisor;
Is the sweet lovely mother.
Wife’s vermillion is the symbol of chastity;
In husband’s eyes she is a Deith.
On Earth she is a peerless Beauty;
In husbands lap lives with delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Life Is A Mystery
Life is a mystery for all those who don't understand it,
and meaningful for those who enjoys it,
and it's history for all.
Husband is a banker, wife is a locker,
children are currency,
every thing urgency.
Wife is a baker, husband is a pastry,
children are cookies, friends are candies
poem by Naga Bhanu Vemuri
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My wonderful wife............
Since we married, our life journey sails smoothly
step by step with out any barrier or trouble
We walk side by side as a husband and wife
We know the day when we started our life
Those roads were hard and mountain to walk and climb
The sun and rain showered its strength on us while walking on the road
The nights were thoughtful of our future instead of honeymoon
But your strength and faith made me to over come all those obstacles
Your love and courage energized me to build up from the scrape
Your kindness and patient kept me away from sadness and frustrations
You are always remains as my wonderful and loving wife
Now we have lovely family and blessed with two wonderful sons
We can be proud what we have done for us and for our children
Our love and guidance could help our children to live decently
Not only they will learn to care of their children but also us
It has been twenty years since we told ' I Do' front of God
But my love still grows for you strong and everlasting trust
I could not imagine how my life would have been without you
I have to thank God for giving me a wonderful and understanding wife
and making us a great family as husband, wife and children
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Reciprocal Relationship
Wife and husband
reciprocate through love
as a centrifugal force
that settles only
to one another
Wife and husband
reciprocate through understanding
as a bonding conduit
to overrule electrifying
disagreements
Reciprocating wife and husband
make love and understanding
as best way of communication
that sustain the romance
and lasting relationship
When reciprocating collapses
between a husband and wife
romantic expression ceases
and the marital connection
becomes sour and arid
Reciprocating with each other
through love and understanding
builds up stronger foundation
as contented wife and husband
blessed with happy marriage
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Honour to Women
The woman is my mother,
She is the wife of my father.
The woman is my wife,
She is also the mother of my children.
I love my mother,
My children love their mother, too;
So, I respect my beloved wife.
Every woman with the veil of Mother is honoured by all,
Heaven lying at the feet of mother, every woman moves proudly.
poem by Supanul Islam Supan
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Sonnet: You Know What’s Best and When
A Doctor second, lady you are first!
You ought to choose priorities in Life;
‘Can wait! ’ your knowledge and fiscal thirst;
Her husband, children are wealth to a wife.
So, women must become a mother soon!
And sacrifice a lot of things in life;
The mother’s place at home is sure a boon;
The working mother helps to lessen strife.
Your family is more important, oh doc!
The job is second to a woman then;
What use are key and latch without a lock?
Which home can happy be without children?
So, plan whatever things you must first do!
The joy of children will not wait for you.
8-5-2002
poem by John Celes
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Our Loss
God walks the Earth no more
And
We, are left alone.
To fight our battles
Climb our hills
To watch our personal dawns.
We feel no more
Our passions dead.
We have gone
Where only mortals tread.
We have no hearts
Our loves are lost
Our innocence
The greatest cost.
What remains
But, empty skeletons
Godless creatures, gutless men.
We have no hearts
Nothing beats in our chest.
Savages all, yet worse our cost
We've lost our dreams
And
Nothings left.
Barren lands
Brown bittered grass.
We've killed our gods.
We've killed ourselves.
What remains
But mortal shells.
The long night's here
It brings no stars
No hopes, No dreams
Just painful scars.
We've killed ourselves.
Innocence lost.
Dreams that once were
Have turned to dust.
All that's left
Has begun to rust.
We've stayed too long
And, killed too much.
Savages, with thirsts for blood.
We've killed ourselves
Our innocence lost.
Hope is gone
poem by Rabia Minhas
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