My father used to sing to me in my mother's womb. I think I can name about any tune in two beats.
quote by Yancy Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The couple’s quarrel
The child cries when its mother beats her.
It weeps when its father beats her mother.
If the father has sense to understand
He will find the alternative for his anger.
23.06.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Song Id Like To Sing
(na na na na na na na....)
Theres a song Id like to sing
Do you know the song I mean?
It dont always sound the same
But its always good to sing.
Maybe it dont mean a thing
Its a pretty little tune.
Its a song Id like to sing
And Id love to sing with you.
And we can get to know each other
Like a sister and a brother
Like a father and a mother
Like a woman and a man
We can sing along together
Just enyoying til its over
It dont need to last forever
If we want it to it can.
(muppets: na na na na na na na....)
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Still Borns Of Africa
we are still in the womb
swimming in the filthy fluid of corruption
we are still in the womb
battling to cut the umbilical cord of pollution
we are still in the womb
preying on the reminant of deprived relation
we are still in the womb
drowning in the congest world of deprivation
we are still in the womb
protesting against divisional segregation
we are still in the womb
exsalting the strength of voices calling for attention
we are still in the womb
reaching the spheres through screw faces and traumatic expression
we are still in the womb
paddling our ways through neglect and isolation
we are still in the womb
stirring gently towards the end of our active function
we are still in the womb of africa
waiting to be called the still borns of our mother
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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Mother world
World become so small and tiny
It looses its charm and entity
When woman attains motherhood
She has no appetite for self or food
Whole world, as if, has come to her lap
She remains unconcerned even if danger taps
Let snake pass near by but she is totally unaware
She has her own world to look after and take care
All great souls have used mother as sacred refuge
So the mother is called divine and status very much huge
"if I have to avail another chance" mother's womb will be preference
To remain in her womb for nine months will be great memory with presence
When God is remembered so is the mother along with same
All religious books are full of praises from where he came
For time being her love might have been shifted
Yet mother is symbol of affection and love as it is gifted
Why children love her more than father?
She is combination of both father and mother
At given point of time, you may desert sometimes
But mother in any woman never think of it any times
She is living god and exact replica of holy shrine
Kindness and love is the treasure of any feminine
Mother is mother and stands for courage altogether
She is embodiment and so is celled "mother
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Hideaway
i dream back of the past, where the womb i stay, is nothing
but a place where i can be in a day.......
moving out is not but a dream that everybody is busy, looking
something that everybody couldn't see......
my thought is humble to think that, in the shelves i use to play is
but a womb's mother i usually think that it is easy to be free....
i always ask even if it takes lust, all the memory is gone, only
the bad things is fun....
all it seems, it is fine and everything is with me, knowing i made
it for that day, wandering for every joy would leads me to make
me happy.....
i have stand on my own, i know where i go, believing that i am a
little god, great as it could be, never i hold to the womb iam
fold.....
innocent as a child, all day long i wait to the mother breast i suck,
to the milk iam glad, leaving behind the pain i my hands
let the hideaway may come in my dreams i stand, may you always be
in my mother womb i stay..... for only in my mother's womb.... i
could be free
poem by Antonio Liao
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Sing a Song Mother!
Sing a song Mother, sing again
for your daughter now grown
but sing again that lullaby
for her to sleep a while
Sing a song Mother, sing
again and caress her
sing for her and sooth
away her worries.....
Sing a song Mother, with
love and care
sing again that melody
to warm her heart...
Sing a song Mother, hold her tight
and sing again from your love
sing for her she needs only you
and sing for her to smile..
Sing a song Mother, sing again
for your daughter
sing again until she sleeps
on your loving lap...
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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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
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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
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Parents Are Not Payable
Listen, dear brothers, sisters,
Look back in nostalgia;
Think about dear mother,
dear father,
The ones who gave life to you
And thaught you how to be
a man, a woman too;
Your mother who suckled you
Nine months she bore you
in her womb;
From his own sweat your
father paid for your school
And made sure your belly is
never emptied with food.
Think about them in
everything you do.
For some day you wil be
a father, a mother too
And your children will think
about you in everything
they do
They will think of the
troubles you went through
To help them pull through.
PARENTS can never be repaid
No matter the wealth you
may have attained.
Parents are not payable,
You just have to make them
feel comfortable,
And that would be enough
for their troubles.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Unseen Visitor
You imprisoned in
Mother’s womb
When I was arrested and imprisoned
In social prison womb
Without seeking the sun and moon
Days and weeks
Months and years passed
And in the meantime you released from uterus
Keeping eternal pain
in my heart no one seen
Without a name and a born father
Grew up in a transitional time
And I put a name after three months
Relatives knew
But it concealed to neighbors
“Her father has been in abroad”
After almost six months
My daughter with mother
In front of the prison
Where crowding packed room in prison
Between the wall and through a small window fixed a
Small holes net
They have come to see me
.
Touching the iron bar
She was looking at me
Tears collapsed
Out of eyes of mother
But my eyes dried up
As the heart weeping
“This is your father”
Asked with sighs
She smiled
Looking at me
Touching the iron bar
Udaya R. Tennakoon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Wishing And Willing..
When the baby kicks in the womb,
A few parents touch to have the kick,
Most mothers excited, while the fathers too,
A few miss this opportunity as not bothered to,
The crying of the babies never fails to wake up,
The loving hearts of the mother and father,
The crying of the mothers never fails to shaken up,
The young hearts of children, who see the rift,
Hearts of children love their mother,
As it listened to her beats day and night,
Hearts of children are attracted to the mother,
As she is the one, who listens to their blabber,
The crying of babies never fails to wake up the mother,
The crying of mothers never fails to shaken up the children.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Random things about my Mother
My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue
My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake
My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane
My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine
My mother who knew
No contentment in living
My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two
My mother who it is true
Stopped living long before she died
My mother from whose mouth flew
Words of disappointment and fury
My mother whose lips
Tasted bitter tears
My mother sat impatiently
In sorrow through her years
My mother who like Kunta Kinte
Was tamed by Diabets
My mother who was tamed
By my father
My mother who was captured by my father
My mother who fought with my father
The two them struggling false teeth piercing each others flesh
My mother who my father told to go and cook the mint
My mother who would beat us and cause wounds and bruises to our skin
My mother who love to walk about
My mother who gave a toe
A day away
My mother who kiked with her stump of a leg after she lost her foot
My mother who was a great dresser
My mother who could sing
Sang on the church choir
My mother who would be at the front of the church earliest every Saturday
My mother who insisted I be baptized and save by the holy ghost
My mother had beautiful handwriting
My mother who had nine children for five different men
My mother who tried to settle down with my father
My mother who could never swim
My mother who loved to sing
My mother who would tie us up on leashes and take us for long walks through the town
My mother who sought out hand me-downs – for our clothing
My mother who was active in the Welfare Society at church so she could cream the crop for her family
My mother who instigated many a conflicts with her numerous friend was left with only a few in the end.
My mother whom I so wanted to help evolve
My mother who I helped to live
My mother who I had to let die
My mother who lives in me
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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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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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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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
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Mother Cluny
Mother cluny
Rock me in your womb
Mother cluny
Rock me in your womb
Take the fear
And pain I feel
Turn em into
Tears that heal
Mother cluny
Rock me in your womb
Mother cluny
Suckle me at your breat
Mother cluny
Suckle me at your breat
Tend the seed
That love has sown
In the temple of my
Flesh and bone
Mother cluny
Suckle me at your breast
Mother cluny
Hold me in your fire
Mother cluny
Hold me in your fire
That I may shed
This dead old skin
That I may find
The fire within
Mother cluny
Hold me in your fire
Mother cluny
Clothe and send me forth
Mother cluny
Clothe and send me forth
To be present
At the birth
Of the new heaven
Of the new earth
Mother cluny
Clothe and send me...
Clothe and send me forth
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Whistling Tune
(words & music by edwards - david)
Did you ever notice when the sun goes down
Out of nowhere comes a strange and pretty sound
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night
If you listen you can hear it in the breeze
Specially when the breeze is drifting through the trees
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night
And the murmuring waters sing the song
The echoing mountains hum along
The whispering valleys fill the air
With a whistling tune our hearts can share
Its so wonderful to walk beneath the moon
Listening to old mother natures favorite tune
Its a whistling tune for walking in the night
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Mr. Songbird
Won't you sing me a song or two,
Won't take you long to just sing to me please,
Won't you whistle a tune.
I got nothing to gain, i got nothing to lose,
But if you sing me a song,
You'll make me happy [?].
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
You help to keep my troubles away.
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
You help to keep my troubles away.
Mister, won't you sing me a song,
Won't you sing a little melody.
Won't you try to help me along,
Won't you sing a little song for me, oh yeah.
Sing me a song or two,
Won't take you long to just sing to me please,
Won't you whistle a tune.
Though i ain't got a beanie
'cause i've nothing to dream,
So if you waiting for nothing,
Do something for me.
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
You help to keep my troubles away.
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
Sing mr. songbird,
You help to keep my troubles away.
You help to keep my problems away.
You help to keep the devil away.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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