If you asked anybody in my family, they would have very stridently proclaimed themselves middle class. My mother and father were separated, so he doesn't count.
quote by Dave Van Ronk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2)
When I think of all the things you GAVE me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
The list goes endless and I fail to count what you gave to me;
With your heart, your mind, your energy and your soul of fame!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
You burnt yourself like a CANDLE to give me light....
Your deeds are never dull; your love is never pale;
I count endless things you, an endless tale
All these you spent on me throughout the years.
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
Now I am in foreign land tormented like an alien, I'm hurt!
I am sad yet I remember Rudyard Kipling's poem, 'If' –
There a father suggest 180 things to his son; What if?
I am not with you; yet your advices ring in heart!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
I cherish our relationship forever and a day,
Till earth exists and sun sparkles in every way,
Till Stars twinkle and moon delights I carry your name,
Till death may do us apart yet I carry all the same
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
We are separated by boundaries narrow.....
Yet in my memories, I'm with as your shadow;
I may carry your fortunes for while.....
Yet I carry your hope for a mile;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done! ................................................. .......................
A BIG NOTICE BOARD:
*Your attention please: Just take a break! Now READ part 1 to make your reading wholesome. PART 2 of the poem
Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)
poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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I came from Nebraska, a very middle class family with a progressive father.
quote by Theodore C. Sorensen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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I Don't Wish To Impose
I don't wish to impose
But can I join your family?
You see mine fell apart when my father died
I don't think anyone has noticed
But I have
We didn't meet at Christmas
Was I the only one distressed?
My mother with her new partner
No blame
She doesn't do on her own
But no family gathering?
You, my father's younger brother
I watch you laughing with your daughters
No jealousy
Just a longing for the way things were
Impossible I know
Maybe I could just share you.
You ring, you text, you e-mail
And I am so grateful for the crumbs from your table
The table where my father once sat
He would have loved that we keep in touch.
I look at you closely, looking for my father in your face
I cannot find him there
But you are his brother
The closest I can get
So I comfort myself with our friendship
Your sense of humour
Your memories, your family
Longing for the way things were
Before my family fell apart.
poem by Judith Evans
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There are three social classes in America: upper middle class, middle class, and lower middle class.
quote by Judith Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Family
Her family is broken.
Her father's never home and when
he is, he doesn't even notice her.
Her brother is never here, always with
his girlfriend just so he can escape
this place. Her sister the drug addict
and alcoholic, takes her kid to
her ‘husbands' house where he
beats her and treats her like a slave,
cheating on her all the time.
Her mom doesn't care anymore,
just ignores everyone, just like her father.
She herself has given up on this broken family.
It may not seem as broken as the worst but
it's broken enough
for the little girl to
end her life. Leaving behind her family.
They wake up and realize
that their family is broken.
When it's too late
poem by Nichole Herrin
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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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Your Family Can Not Be That Big
How large is my family?
Is that what you asked me?
'Yes.
I heard it was big.'
Well...
I will say this and I know you will think I exaggerate.
And this is just my father's side.
IF I had the ambition to visit each one of my relatives,
Everyday for the next five years...
I still would offend someone who heard I was doing this.
Because I was not able to do it to satisfy a visit to everyone.
'Your family can not be that big.'
And my mother's family is larger than my father's.
That's why I feel I am blessed to live alone.
And be able to stay away from all that drama.
I would not get a thing done if I made promises to them,
With intentions to attempt to keep them.
'A few don't speak to me now,
Because they believe I'm stand-offish.
They have no idea...
That I am the one trying to get things done,
With beliefs that the coast is clear.
Without me stopping to hear about who did what to who...
And where have I been and what have I been doing,
Since the last time they saw me attempting to escape.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Song
At her Junior High School graduation,
she sings alone
in front of the lot of us--
her voice soprano, surprising,
almost a woman's. It is
the Our Father in French,
the new language
making her strange, out there,
fully fledged and
ready for anything. Sitting
together -- her separated
mother and father -- we can
hear the racket of traffic
shaking the main streets
of Jersey City as she sings
Deliver us from evil,
and I wonder can she see me
in the dark here, years
from belief, on the edge
of tears. It doesn't matter. She
doesn't miss a beat, keeps
in time, in tune, while into
our common silence I whisper,
Sing, love, sing your heart out!
poem by Eamon Grennan
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Father there you Are(For my dad)
Father it's been a long time,
Since I was baby which I cannot count on my ten fingers,
Cradle my mother's arms,
My eyes closed yet to see my father,
Father running around,
Now I can talk and walk,
Those years later,
Father where are you?
Seeing my mother,
Saying I love thy father,
Which I do,
My love will forever be true,
Now as I grow older once again,
I ask myself,
Father where are you?
Inside my life I see a tunnel,
Running through that tunnel I hear a voice,
Do I go or should I stay?
Trusting my gut I do,
A smile on my face,
Father there you are!
poem by Qeeony Luv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Once Said...
My mother once said
'Don`t open your mouth before
Elders and those with white hairs'.
My mother also said
'Don`t speak unless asked'.
My mouth asked me once,
'What is my role in your life? '
I said, 'My mother has said nothing about it'.
I added, 'You swallow and eat'.
My mouth has been quiet since.
My friends said, 'Your mother is wise'.
My father said, 'She is my strength'.
I wondered how she could be so great!
Then was born my kid brother with a big mouth.
My mother said to my kid brother too
Not to do those old things
But his mouth spoke everything
Everything that I never dared.
And his mouth swallowed, ate and spoke.
Today my mother is no more
And my father is is weak and worn out.
I still remember my mother`s words.
While my kid brother speaks out his mind
My mouth refuses to speak out its regrets....
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Scenes from a Parish
The weekday Mass at 6 a.m.
brings old folks out
from bungalows
around the church.
They move like caterpillars
down sidewalks,
some with canes,
some on walkers.
Young Father Doyle says the Mass
and is renowned for giving
homilies on weekdays
superior to homilies
heard in other churches
even on a Sunday.
After Mass, he goes back
to the rectory to care
for a mother older than
most of his congregants.
A gracious lady, his mother
cannot move or talk
because of a stroke.
But every Sunday at noon,
when the church is overflowing
with people wanting Mass to start,
Father Doyle, in full vestments,
wheels his mother in a lump
down the middle aisle
and lifts her like a chalice
and places her in the front pew
before he ascends to the altar.
Sometimes at night,
when his mother is finally asleep,
he returns to the church
and rehearses in the dark
three hymns she long ago
asked him to sing at her funeral.
He practices the hymns
because the doctor said
she could go at any time
and when that time comes,
he doesn't want to miss a note.
The last thing she ever said was
'Son, I'll be listening.'
poem by Donal Mahoney
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The Naked and The Dead
Naked I walk through the town but no one sees me
no more than they see a shadow on a sun drenched
wall… and I awoke my son´s name, he who was
not born twenty years ago. My son I have given you
a grand education, all my money has gone to make
you middle class and respected in this town…speak
now and stop your silence I need your support and
do not be ashamed of your father who swam from
the sea penniless but begat you my wonderful child
unborn, cause your mother wanted to be attractive
forever. You are what I never became a person of class.
Do not leave me know, do not be ashamed of your
sailor father who had nothing to give but his love for
an unborn child. Night is so long I wait by the phone,
just one call to tell me you have been successful and
that you love me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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My Father's Room
I saw a picture in my father’s room,
tucked away in a worn paper box.
It was of him and my mother,
holding hands.
They were young too.
My mother a beauty in her violet blouse,
and my father in an old T-shirt.
They smiled.
As I sat,
wondering who the photographer was,
my Father came home,
and asked me to mow the grass.
poem by Christopher Parsons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like No Other...Mother
Mother...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.
Mother...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.