You Will Always Be My Father
I dearly loved my Father,
Till I was about twelve years old,
Then he started to go astray,
An affair is what I was told.
I fought with my Mother and Brothers,
They said he was just a rat
He was my reason for living,
My Dad could not do that.
At first he disappeared for days,
I didn't know where or when,
He could have been alive or dead,
But then he'd appear again.
There was never an explanation,
He should have given me that at least,
Then he'd show from out of the blue,
With his gifts from the mystic east.
You left my mum to struggle on,
With five of us in tow,
You let your heart rule your head,
You just didn't want to know.
I never believed you could have an affair,
I kept that in my head,
Until that fateful day I was shown,
You lying in anothers bed.
I never spoke to you for seven years,
That's when fate stepped in,
When I met you in the street one day,
I still felt the love within.
I bonded with you once again,
I unloaded my long held grudge,
Who am I to lecture you,
The Good Lord would be your judge.
You then met your younger siblings,
Whom you had barely known,
It gave you one last chance in life,
To see how they had grown.
You threw away a life of bliss,
But I don't believe you were bad,
To throw away your Wife and Sons,
You had to be bloody mad.
I was with you on the Thursday,
You just wanted to go to bed,
When I went to meet you on Friday,
I was informed that you were dead.
I will be eternally grateful,
For having you back in my life,
Life is really far too short,
To continue a lifelong strife.
So may you rest in peace Dad,
Though it's thirty two years on,
It seems like only yesterday,
I was told that you had gone.
Your wayward ways affected us all,
They had us in a lather,
But regardless of your betrayal,
‘' You Will Always Be My Father ‘'
Related quotes
My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A letter to My Dad
Dad it's been twenty years,
since you have been gone now
when ever I think of you
the thought, brings tears
There's so much to tell
you, I don't know where to begin
two months, after you died
we had a son, he's so big now, I'm in a spell
I wanted for you, to meet my wife,
in a way you did, only at your funeral,
by then, it was to late
strangers were we, but never any strife
Between us, there was no hate or any love
many wasted words had we
I would like to mention, we have a daughter,
and she's sweet as a dove
Remeber the day, that you gave me old shep
he was a very fine dog
for a long time, I had him
for many years, he had a lot of pep
After nine years, he died too,
seems like ever thing I love
dies sooner or later
and that makes me feel, very blue
You don't realize, how much you love
some one, until their gone,
and then they
fly away like a dove
Toward the end, we had some good talks
you told me many things i didn't know
at your farm, on our many walks
You told me how you played ball,
it must have been something,
to have played back then
my son, dad like you is very tall
I have a very happy life
dad, I wish you could meet
my son and daughter,
also my wife
Dad, it's to bad, I didn't know you better,
too many years were wasted
and I should have told you, I love you,
so that's the reason, for this letter
written June 18,1990 In Memory of my dad Elmer W. Foulk
Born September 13,1904 Died October 10,1970
Father Spoke in Code
Father spoke in code
Mother understood.
She would cry
once he went to bed.
I never understood the code.
My sister didn't either.
As we got older, we quit
asking Mother what he said.
A feral cat claimed our yard.
It would leap the fence
when anyone appeared.
Except, of course, Father.
When he came out to walk
around the garden after supper,
the cat would sit straight up,
then rub against his leg
and look at him as if it understood
what others never could.
My sister used to say
the two of us were proof
Father and Mother
got together twice.
I told her I wasn't so certain.
I looked a lot like Mr. Brompton,
the next-door neighbor.
He used to buy us sugar cones
from the ice cream truck.
My sister, by the way, didn't look
like anyone in the family either,
but that was 40 years ago
when I last saw her.
I went away to college
and she got married.
We were never close after that.
Not even Christmas cards.
Forty years is a long time.
Now, we plan to get together
for a weekend this summer
before one of us dies.
I suggested we wait
till one of us is terminal.
What's the rush, I said.
But my wife told her
I was only kidding,
that we'll be coming
and not to make a fuss.
Burgers and hot dogs
will do just fine.
I know what Sis and I
will talk about that weekend,
the two people we'll always
have in common, no matter
how many years and miles
may lie between us.
Father and Mother have been
dead for decades now
but they're still alive in us.
I talk in code, my wife says,
and my sister cries a lot,
now that her husband's dead.
The one thing I want to know
is if my sister knows
what happened to the cat.
It knew the code,
may have had some answers.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Letter My Father Will Never See
if only one last time i could see you. if only one time i could tell you what i think. if only one time i could say what i've been thinking for all these years. if only i could just not care. if only it didn't hurt so much. if only i could say that you dont matter. if only i could tell you. if only one time you'd listen. if only you knew. if only i could tell you your an ass. if only i could say and put into words what you've put me through. if only you were around to say good job.
as a father you have failed. as a father you were never there. as a father you never held me. as a father you never cared. as a father you never gave me praise. as a father you never brushed my hair. as a father you didn't teach me about life. as a father you didn't teach me how to care. as a father you never showed me love. as a a father you you let me cower in the corner. as a father you scared the hell out of me every night of the week. as a father you came home drunk. as a father you didn't put me to bed. as a father you never gave me a hug as a father you were my worst night. however, for some reason i cant fathom your my father. and for the same reason i cant fathom how you earned the title when being a father was one thing that you never were and dont seem to want to be.
Eve
Detdicated to Eve Croft
May she Rest In Peace
It was over forty years ago
when I first met her.
I had barely left my teens.
She was older than me;
in fact, she was a friend’s mother.
Divorce had left her lonely
with three sons to bring up.
Life was not easy,
not much time to herself.
Slowly after meeting her,
a friendship between us grew.
To make her life sustainable
I took her out
from time to time.
We held hands at the pictures
and when we went anywhere.
She often worried
what people would think of me.
I didn’t really care what people thought.
Eve was a friend
and there was nothing more to be said.
For the next couple of years
our friendship never wavered.
We would hug and smile
whenever we did meet.
There was never any romance involved,
we were just very good friends.
I never forget when she had an offer
to move in with someone.
She was so worried
that I would think badly of her.
She was almost in tears
when she told me his proposition.
I put my arm around her shoulder
and reassured her it was all right.
That our friendship would never diminish
regardless what she did.
Sadly, her going away
was never meant to be.
She fell ill with cancer
and went to live with her sister
who would care for her.
It was the last time
I was ever to see her.
It was a few years later
I bumped into her eldest son.
When I asked him about his mum
he looked at me strangely
with tears holding back I his eyes.
She died I thought you knew.
I said that I didn’t.
He said he couldn’t stop
as he had a bus to catch,
and then he was gone.
With head bowed, I turned away
and started walking home.
Tears leaked from my eyes
making small lines across my cheeks.
My regret then and will always be
that I never had a chance
to say a proper goodbye.
1 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Prime of Life
OH, the strength of the toil of those twenty years, with father, and master, and men!
And the clearer brain of the business man, who has held his own for ten:
Oh, the glorious freedom from business fears, and the rest from domestic strife!
The past is dead, and the future assured, and I’m in the prime of life!
She bore me old, and they kept me old, and they worked me early and late;
I carried the loads of my selfish tribe, from seven to thirty eight:
I slaved with dad, in the dust and heat, that my brothers might enjoy—
But I rest to-day in the prime of life, and I’ll live and die a boy!
When the last crop failed, and the stock were gone, did the old man’s head go down?
No! he started business, on what was left, in the produce line in town.
They sent my brothers to boarding schools, when our way to the front we’d won—
They’d borrow, and borrow, but never had aught but contempt for the eldest son.
My brothers they went to the world away, and they left the home in strife.
They sowed wild oats in the pride of youth, and they pawned the prime of life.
They sowed too fast, and they sowed too far; and they came back one by one—
You couldn’t tell which is the eldest son and which is the youngest son.
Oh, I longed for a love that I could not claim, and a breath of the youth denied—
But I stuck to the store when the old man went, and the mater until she died:
With Job’s own sister and Satan’s aunt—good Lord! and the fiend’s own wife—
But I’m free of them now, it is no matter how, and I’m in the prime of life.
My brothers have turned respectable, and are steady as men can be:
The youngest and worst is a leading light—and he aims at reforming me!
But I lend and help, and I’ll fix them up, for I can’t but see with a sigh,
That the youngest, who left us a handsome boy, is an older man than I.
But it’s “Lord make us thankful” three times a day, before they eat their fill—
They can thank the Lord if they like, I say, but I reckon I pay the bill.
They feel independent, I’m glad to know, for if all I hear is true,
My brothers agree that I do no more than I have a right to do.
They’ll work in the store while I see the world, and I’ll let them share the till—
But I sail to-day, for a year away, to go wherever I will:
I sail with the woman who waited for me—old sweetheart; and brand new wife—
She is handsome and true, and she’s thirty-two—and I’m in the prime of life.
For Capetown, and London, and Norraway, for Germany, Holland, and France,
For Switzerland, Italy—anywhere—for Greece, and for Egypt a glance,
For India, China, and “strange Japan”, for the East with mystery rife—
I have made enough, and I have my love—and I’m in the prime of life!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father I Still Love You
I tried so hard to love you
But you never really cared
I tried so hard to trust you
But you were never really there
I wanted you to love me
But your heart had grown so cold
I wanted you to play with me
But money was your only goal
And now that I've grown older
And I look back on the years
I remember all the anger
The hurt the pain the tears
Father I forgive you
For all those wasted years
And I try not to remember
All the hurt the pain the tears
But father just please tell me
Did you ever love me once
Or was I just like leftovers
That you throw out after lunch
Father I still love you
And I'll never let that die
But father just please look at me
Say you love me to my eye
Father I must be honest
When you left I found another
My Father up in Heaven
And Jesus my loving Brother
They were the ones who loved me
When you had never cared
They were the ones who saved me
From a life of hate and despair
Father I still love you
And that will always stay true
But father will you love me
Because your child still needs you.
poem by Daniel Sweetnam
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My Mother
Every one gives praise about their mothers
But none can give as much praise as me.
She brought me from a country
Where most lived in poverty.
She worked hard and saved her money
So that I may have a better life
She is an excellent mother
And to my father a good wife.
She has been there every step of my life
She turned bad things into right.
She has given me the strength to pursue my dream
For in me, there is something that she has seen.
She taught me how to love and respect
All that GOD has given
and to make life worth living.
Through her pregnancy and through my birth
She has given all her worth.
Then through my childhood years
To my teenage years, she was with me
To shed her tears.
when I was feeling down and out
And I wanted to scream and shout
She was there to wipe my tears
And put to rest, all my fears.
Even now that I am grown
all her love is still shown.
No one can love you more than a mother
And in my life there is no other.
So to my mother this is for you
You are my life, my love, my dream come true
And I am so thankful to you.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother’s day
It was mother’s day
and you wanted your dead mother
to be alive again,
more sincerely than anything.
You even were angry with me
for not thinking about you
on that day
of you now being motherless
when you had a mother
for most of your life
and a father too
and that there was something empty,
something missing from your life,
and her being gone
was terrible on that particular day.
That you couldn’t make her breakfast,
pick nasturtiums
from the garden for her,
or even talk to her,
on that special day
and I said that I didn’t realize that you were
missing your mom so much,
and offered my sincere sympathy
and told you that we have to appreciate
our parents
while we still have them,
that life lies only in the hand of God,
that I had grown up without a father
and that my mother was the only parent
whom I really knew
and ironically the only woman
that didn’t leave me in the lurch
which made you angrier,
so much so that you slammed
the phone down in my ear
when I called to apologize
and I wondered why
the persons that we hold dear
leave so much pain
when they are gone
and what had gotten into you?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Eternal Love I'll never know
Your body lays in the coffin stiff as a board. I only knew you for a glimmer of time.
I heard you passed away the other day, my heart sank, like the day you left me.
Before you were gone from my life, now you are gone from this world.
I sit here and wonder where your spirit is floating now. I hope it will be pleasant and in a place I would recognize. A place where I could maybe wander and find you someday.
Your beautiful white face, that use to be caressed by the love of our Sun, is expressionless.
Just like the day you crushed my hopes and dreams of being with you.
Sometimes I feel like I've let those days go, and some days I don't feel alone.
Today I'm with someone new, years have passed us by, but I feel dead to her and life on the inside.
Maybe it's in my mind, so determined to be with you, the only one I let myself love.
Or maybe it's just a simple fear and I don't have enough courage to just let go.
This bond I feel for you is beautiful yet so sadistic. It has controlled me ever since that day, and I'm not sure how to help myself. Everything I look at now lacks color and is seen in black and white.
The angels are flying over my head, I'm lying here thinking of you in bed.
Your dark brown hair is spread through my finger tips, I can feel every crevice in your lips as I lean in to mend them with mine.
And now your dead...I don't know where you have gone, but search for me okay? Like I have searched for you. I'll know when you return, I'll know when you are there. If I could breathe the breath of life back into your lungs, I would. If I could give life back to what we had I would try. Because is those short moments, I've felt more alive then all these twenty five years.
You'll never find someone like me again, not ever. I know everyone says that when they are left standing in the dust, but this time it is true. I never had a human choice, but as if a puppet master above my head pulled a string, and my heart loved you.
But be still now my love, be at peace and rest because I have done all the wandering and anguish for the both of us for so long. I look forward to the day I see you, and my heart skips a beat one more time.
Because in that moment I'm jolted back to life, and I know everything is going to be fine.
And in that instant it's gone, it hurts me to feel eternal love I'll never know.
poem by Midnight Writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 5)
There was a feast for Jews just then;
Went Jesus to Jerusalem;
There was a pool called Bethesda;
In which there lay the ill, blind, lame.
There was a man who had been ill
For years thirty-eight, lying there;
As Jesus knew his long illness,
He asked, ‘Do you want to be well? ’
The sick man answered Him, ‘Oh, Sir,
I haven’t someone to put me there,
In pool of water that’s near-by;
Someone else gets there before me.’
Then Jesus told the man who’s ill,
‘Arise, take up your mat and walk.’
And instantly, the man turned well;
It happened on a Sabbath-day.
Jews told the man who had been cured,
‘On Sabbath, you shouldn’t carry mat.’
He said, ‘The man who made me well
Told me to walk and take my mat.’
They queried him, ‘Who told you so? ’
There was a crowd around the place;
By then, Jesus had slipped away;
The man didn’t know, that Sabbath day.
Next, Jesus found the man again,
And said to him, near the temple,
‘Now well you’re, don’t sin anymore,
So that worse things do not happen.’
The man then left and told the Jews
That Jesus only made him well;
Because on Sabbath, Jesus healed,
To persecute Him, Jews began.
So, Jesus told, ‘My father works
Until now; So, I also work.’
The Jews therefore tried all the more
To kill Jesus who Sabbath broke,
And made himself to God, equal.
So, Jesus answered them and said,
‘Amen, amen, I say to you,
A son can’t do a thing by self;
He sees his father and so does.’
‘The loving father shows his son
All things, He himself tries to do;
And He will show him greater works,
That astonishes all on earth.’
‘Just as the father raises dead,
The son gives life to anyone.
The father will not judge someone,
But allows son to give judgment.’
‘So that all may honor the son,
Just as the father, they honor.
Whoever doesn’t honor the son,
Does not the father too, who’d sent.’
‘Amen, I say, ’ said Jesus then,
‘Whoever hears my word, believes
The one who sent me to this world,
And later gets eternal life;
And will not be condemned at all,
For, he has passed from death to life.’
‘Amen, amen, I say to you,
The hour has come for dead to hear,
The voice of God’s son, right now, here,
And live forev’r will those, who hear.’
‘Like father has life within him,
The son has also life in him.
Don’t be amazed, the hour will come,
And all in tombs will hear his voice.
‘All who’ve done good will resurrect,
To eternal life, in heaven,
And wicked too will resurrect,
To be condemned in hell’s fire.’
‘I cannot do a thing on own;
My judgment will be just and fair,
Because I seek not, my own will
But will of one, who sent me here.’
‘If on my own, I testify,
No one can then, it verify.’
But there is one who testifies
On my behalf and truly, wise.’
‘John testified the truth to you;
I don’t accept what earthlings say;
I yet, say this, be saved you may.’
‘John was a burning, shining lamp
And for awhile, you loved his light; .
I testify ev’n more than John;
My father’s works, I here perform
To show my father has me sent.’
‘My father who has sent me here,
Has testified on my behalf;
His form remains unseen by you;
His voice, no one has ever heard.’
‘His word in you does not remain,
As you do not believe his son;
The scriptures testify for me
You search it for eternal life.’
‘Yet, you don’t come to me for life;
I do not accept human praise;
You do not have God’s love in you;
I came in my father’s dear name.’
‘Yet, you do not accept my words;
If someone comes in his own name,
You’ll accept him and give him fame.’
You can’t believe when you accept
The praises from one another;
And yet, not seek the praise that comes
From only God, my dear father.’
‘I won’t accuse you ’fore father;
But Moses will, in whom you hope;
For, if you believed Moses then,
You would have believed me, Amen.
Though Moses wrote about me, still
Believe my words, you all, how will?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-22-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dacian's prayer [Rugăciunea unui dac]
When there was neither death, nor immortality,
Nor seed of light to give life and fertility,
Nor yesterday, today, tomorrow and for ever,
For one was everything and all were one together;
When earth and sky and air and all this world profound
Were things that until then had never been around,
Back then, was only You, and in my mind I wonder,
Who is the God we worship, who makes us hear the thunder?
He is the God that stood before all gods in dark
And from the boundless waters produced a little spark,
He gives the gods their souls, makes happy His creation
He is for all the people a fountain of salvation
Cheer up and praise the Lord! Forget about your strife,
He is the death of death and is the life of life!
And He gave me the eyes to see the shining light
And mercifully filled my heart with pure delight
In roaring winds I've heard His footsteps all the time
And in a sublime song I've felt His holy rhyme,
But beside all these things, I still have a request,
To let me find at last His sweet eternal rest!
To curse the man who wants to soothe my awful pain
To bless the one who always oppresses me in vain,
To listen any mouth that shouts at me with strife,
To strengthen any arm that wants to take my life
And let that guy to be the best and walk ahead
Who comes to steal the stone on which I lay my head!
Rejected by the people, I'll roam through all my years
Until I feel my eyes devoid of any tears,
For every man will be my bitter foe from birth,
That's why I cannot judge or measure my own worth;
The pain and the ordeal have chilled my heart severely,
That I can curse my mother, whom I have loved so dearly –
But when my hate will fade and love will take its place
I might forget my pain and leave this life with grace.
And if I die an outlaw who wanted to be free,
Let them throw out my body to rot under a tree
And offer, God, a crown with many precious stones
To him who'll bring the dogs to eat my heart and bones.
And give eternal life to those who slap my face,
Who throw at me with stones and sink me in disgrace!
And only then, my Father, I'll thank you on my knees,
Because You gave me power to go through life with ease
I shall not beg for mercy or bend my head and cry
To curses, spite and evil I want to turn Your eye,
To feel Your holy breath upon my mortal face,
To die and rest in peace and leave behind no trace!
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale Of Woe
Hey Mom;
I took your advice
And I didn’t even drink a drop
But my friends are too drunk to know
So I took responsibility, and I drove that group home,
But Mom, someone didn’t listen to your words of wisdom
And that driver hit the car head on.
Now I’m lying in the street
In an pool of my own blood
Mom I need you; Mom I want you; Mom can you help?
The pain is just so agonizing
Do you think doctors can save me?
Oh Mom, please don’t let me die
I’m too young to never see the light of day again,
I’ve always dreaded my day of death
And now Mom I lay here in my tomb
Just like a baby in the mother’s womb.
I can feel the tears of many, hit the floor.
But Mom that drunken man is still alive,
So how come he is and not I?
He didn’t even bother to shed a single tear;
And Mom I never really got the chance to express it,
I really do regret, but I really do love you.
And now that I’m laid to rest,
Tell everyone to live their best,
Because life’s too short, take that from me
I was hit by a car,
Because a drunk man left the bar,
And even though I didn’t drink a drop,
I’m the one dead, not him.
So now I say goodbye to the ones I love, and the ones I never knew
And my life was just the tale of Juliet, and her beloved Romeo
Because it ends in tragic woe.
poem by Nikita Poffley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Meeting
My father, you were cold and grey
The last time we did meet,
You didn't speak to me at all,
Were covered in a sheet,
Your eyes were open, stared at me
But didn't see a thing,
I felt the love gush from my eyes
Like water, from a spring.
I thought that you were hiding,
That you'd played some trick on me,
That presently you'd jump on out
The way it used to be,
We'd laugh about it then for years
And mother would join in,
But still you lay, ignoring me,
The silence growing thin.
I touched you, and you were so cold,
So icy lying there,
I felt the chill surrounding me,
The chill of your cold stare,
And where the wit I'd grown to love,
The wisdom you had shown?
You answered in your silence then,
'You must go home alone! '
I never thought I'd see the day
When you were not around,
Set in the background of my life,
Your comments, so profound,
I left a part of me behind
With you, once you had gone,
'Last meeting' was not yesterday;
Your Death's now Twenty One!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here Lie's The truth
“Here Lies the truth”,
On Her tombstone this will be wrote.
It was never spoke when She was living,
So also in death, it will be unspoke.
By Her it was never said
it was as though pulling out Her soul,
So here lies the truth and herself dead
Both has died in sadness and woe.
Here lies the truth,
Not once by her was it cried,
Not in the days that she was living,
Not even in the day that She had died.
She must of believed that it was a sin
To open Her heart and listen to the word
So She closed her heart and locked it shut,
And She never believed in no one but Her.
Here lies the truth,
It lived but a very short life,
Though the Woman died of years of age
The truth though, never had a chance to try.
Everyone She knew had learned Her lie
They never believed a word that she said
So when She finally tried to speak the truth,
Her heart stopped; and She laid dead.
Here lies the truth
It lived but a very short life,
It was loved by neither Child or Man,
For they believe its living was but a lie.
So here in the grave it will lay dead
As it had lived in this woman's soul,
Never again will it be uttered or thought of,
Never till the end of time will it be thought of or known.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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