My son is 7 years old. I am 54. It has taken me a great many years to reach that age. I am more respected in the community, I am stronger, I am more intelligent and I think I am better than he is. I don't want to be a pal, I want to be a father.
quote by Clifton Paul Fadiman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Joe Murphy
When i was a Schoolboy Father Joe Murphy was a young man
I recall him and his Brothers Doney and the late Johnny Dan
And though of my existence he hardly would know
One cannot help but remember the great Father Joe.
Fifty five years as a priest something to celebrate
The man has been blessed in his great gift of faith
To his own higher self and to his god true
We must give him credit since credit he is due.
Devoted to his god by good example he lead
At living a good life one who does succeed
A credit to Millstreet and the pride of his clan
The great Father Joe is a wonderful man.
In this age of the cheapening values in life
With warring and famines and poverty rife
A story like Father Joe's a great story to hear
There's still hope for humanity it does appear.
Fifty five years a priest is something well worth a boast
To Father Joe Murphy we will drink a toast
He was in his prime years when i was quite young
And surely his praises deserve to be sung.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Pride Comes Before A Fall
The great one does not last a champion in his prime
He lost to a younger man with some help from father time
The years had left him slow time takes care of us all
He defended his pride but pride comes before a fall.
And even what a difference five or six years can make
To keep on keeping on for him a big mistake
He should have called it quits a couple of years ago
For the money he kept going though the years had left him slow.
Once feted and admired but that was in the past
And he too had his day and nothing ever last
He went down rather tame to one that he once would beat
And for one proud as he there is no pride in defeat.
The beaten one this time he has called it a day
Though perhaps six years ago he should have given his game away
But his pride kept him going wisdom never was his friend
And his glory day for him one might say at an end.
poem by Francis Duggan
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But Patsy, she was a great, great girl. And Brenda Lee is a wonderful person, and her mama Grace. I've known those folks for years and years and years.
quote by Mel Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Max Rosenthau
Father Cleary sat at table with Max many a day
But I don't think he rated a bounteous gift when Max came to visit
Both were guests in the great house acrosss the street of youth
Father for years and Max for yearly one week stints.
The last time Max came was when his wife died
A man so profoundly broken
Even a fourteen year old could start to understand
That the desperation of his giref was the force that drove Max to Mass
Where Father from his view could not give communion to a Jew
And snapped the neck of something deep within me
That despite Father's great friendship
Never came back though I never said a word to Father Cleary.
poem by Bill Grace
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Ch 06 On Weakness And Old Age Story 03
I was in Diarbekr, the guest of an old man, who possessed abundant wealth and a beautiful son. One night he narrated to me that he had all his life no other son but this boy, telling me that in the locality people resorted to a certain tree in a valley to offer petitions and that he had during many nights prayed at the foot of the said tree, till the Almighty granted him this son. I overheard the boy whispering to his companion: ‘How good it would be if I knew where that tree is that I might pray for my father to die.’ Moral: The gentleman is delighted that his son is intelligent and the boy complains that his father is a dotard.
Years elapse without thy visiting
The tomb of thy father.
What good hast thou done to him
To expect the same from thy son?
Years 1
For years I let the torment go on
Years I let you get in my head
Years I had to cry myself to sleep
your out now and last night
what you did to me replayed in my head again
I told myself i wasn't going to let it happen but it did
For years I have lived in scared quarters
For years I have looked for your face
For years I have never felt safe
For years I have remembered
poem by Marissa Ford
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Everybody would love to be mayor of Chicago. If you look at what we have done over many, many years and where we are today and the commitment by the business community, the commitment by the not-for-profit community - all this coming together - this is a wonderful city.
quote by Richard M. Daley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Father Had
his father had
long died 20 years ago
and at his age now
when he coughs
at night
unable to sleep he
hears the very
kind of cough
that his father once
had
pain sometimes
has
twin sounds despite
the passage of
the years
despite the urge
to simply forget
and let things
like ships take their due
course and
sink
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A freedom fighter
A respected man he is
A loved man he is
For his doings, for what he did
Yes he is a freedom fighter
He never stood and watched
He was part of them
Those who had hearts for the innocent people
But in the end he was a leader
He was the one who was punished
Punished for the wonderful things he did for the people
He did them with his power
Now he earn the people respect
They love him he’s their hero
He fought for them
He fought for people’s freedom
Yes he is our freedom fighter
He never gave up no matter what
They never got him down no matter what they did
He stayed away from home and family
Living in locked house for 27 years
Almost his man time in Roben Island
He is South Africa’s father
He is Africa’s father
He is the world’s father
He is every one’s father, a loved father
He is our freedom fighter
A special dedication to:
Mr. Nelson Mandela
Tata
poem by Alancia Lebogang Mogorosi
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A Golden Symphony
A Golden Symphony
of unconditional love
so unlike the setting sun
your two loving hearts
shines forever
Enduring love like yours
grows stronger and stronger
years by year
50 to be exact
Two people united in Holy Matriomony
50 years ago to be exact
There's no Sweetie
without the Sweetheart
A love so complete
that holds one another together
A Wonderful husband, A beautiful Wife
Great Children, Greater Grandchildren
what better angels
could take this journey together
So today, on your 50th Anniversary,
know that you are 'Trully Blessed'
By all the people who you hold dear
in your hearts, and wish you
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY
Written By: Adrienne Strachn
poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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As The Years Pass Along
When the snow is gone,
we will remember this winter
for a long time to come.
We will remember being told not to go to work,
now that never happened before.
We will remember of being snow in,
and that has never happened before.
Yes, we will all have memories to share
as the years pass along,
of the biggest snowfall
we had in over forty years.
We will talk about it with affection,
forgetting the moans some people had.
We will laugh at how the authorities
like always were never prepared.
How we had to walk for a change
for there were no buses to be had.
We will remember the community spirit,
something we have not seen in years.
Memories will compound memories
with a few exaggerations to be had
as the years pass along.
13 January 2010
poem by David Harris
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Blank Years
what music mom let me hear
when i was minus one to three years old?
they say it has a great bearing on my life
yet how they secretly seeped into me
i am as amnestic as the granny next door
who has lost touch with all her years
second poem
-----
ask me what i remember
for the years after i was three
and nothing else before that
i am an amnastic as the old woman
next door for those early years
that crept so quietly into me
without even my knowledge
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Stronger Through The Years
(ferry)
Through the undercover hour
Bad and bleak
To be brief - too much sorrow
And flesh is weak
No more feelings
No more tears
The rivers wide enough
Flowing stronger through the years
Silver lips - kisses borrowed
Glances steal
To quick - how they quiver
Too late theyre sealed
No more feelings
No more tears
The rivers wide enough
Flowing stronger through the years
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daddys Song
Years ago I knew a man
He was my mothers biggest fan
We used to walk beside the sea
And hed tell how my life would be
When I grew up to be a man
Years ago we used to play
He used to laugh when I ran away
But when I fell and hurt my knee
He used to come and comfort me
And the pain would go away
Years ago I knew a boy
He was his daddys pride and joy
But when the daddy went away
It was such a rainy day
That he brought out all his toys
Now the momma did explain
Trying to take away the pain
He just couldnt understand
That his father was not a man
And it all was just a game
Years have passed and so have i
Making it hard to cry
And if and when I have a son
Let it all be said and done
Let all that sadness pass him by
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thats When I Reach For My Revolver
Once I had my heroes
Once I had my dreams
But all of that is changed now
The truth begins again
The truth is not that comfortable, no
Mother taught us patience
The virtues of restraint
Father taught us boundaries
The knowledge we must go
Im trying to protect my unity
Thats when I reach for my revolver
Thats when it all gets blown away
Thats when I reach for my revolver
The spirit passes by this way
A friend of mine once told me
His one and only aim
To build a giant castle
And in it sign his name
Sign it with complete community
Thats when I reach for my revolver
Thats when it all gets blown away
Thats when I reach for my revolver
The spirit passes by this way
Now that the sky is empty
And that is nothing new
Instead they look upon us
When they tell me
That were nothing
I say!
Thats when I reach for my revolver
Thats when it all gets blown away
Thats when I reach for my revolver
The spirit passes by this way
Thats when I reach for my revolver
Thats when it all gets blown away
Thats when I reach for my revolver
The spirit passes by this way
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've played heavies for years and years and years. I was bald. I came to Hollywood. I did a play about junk. I was a pusher, so I played pushers for years and years and years. I did war movies and things like that.
quote by Gavin MacLeod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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