In My Grandfather's Workshop
The stairs lead to the basement
And creaked just as they had
During the days leading to his passing
My grandfather loved woodcarving
The blessed mother smiles warmly in the kitchen
Surrounded by a halo of purple rosewood
My father and I filed silently into the old workshop
Where I had half expected all of his tools and works
To have been taken up with him
Body and soul
Every chisel remained unmoved on the great wooden bench
Every nail sat in it's cup - heads bowed in reverence
Time had stopped - all was quiet - all but the whispering furnace
The shepherd was gone - the sheep are lost
Small handwritten valentines were tacked on the wall
A reminder - that the love never left
poem by C.S. Smith
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Related quotes
0400 The Family
Seen from the back as
they walk along the dusty summer road, with
the sheep straying onto the verges where
a tuft of more succulent grass may linger
in the earlier shadow of
the noontime sun, under the low stone wall,
it’s difficult to see whether
the couple walking with the
gentle pace of conversation, are
son and father, or his grandfather; the man
seems older than the young fathers
around here. But from the front, when
you see their eyes, there’s no mistake –
they’re father (or stepfather?) and son all right, talking
with such attention, such respect
for one another.
They walk into the village, silently greeted, greeting,
with the gentle nodded glance of villagers
about their various tasks; and open up
the wooden door of the cool and tidy carpenters’
workshop open to the sunny air, where
a young mother gazes at the boy with
all the love in the world. It’s
in His eyes too.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Le Roy Goldman
"What will you do when you come to die,
If all your life long you have rejected Jesus,
And know as you lie there, He is not your friend?"
Over and over I said, I, the revivalist.
Ah, yes! but there are friends and friends.
And blessed are you, say I, who know all now,
You who have lost, ere you pass,
A father or mother, or old grandfather or mother
Some beautiful soul that lived life strongly,
And knew you all through, and loved you ever,
Who would not fail to speak for you,
And give God an intimate view of your soul,
As only one of your flesh could do it.
That is the hand your hand will reach for,
To lead you along the corridor
To the court where you are a stranger!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 10)
Then Jesus said, ‘Amen, I say!
Whoev’r enters not through the gates,
But climbs the fence of the sheep-fold,
Is thief or robber doubtlessly! ’
‘Whoever enters through the gate,
Is but the shepherd of the sheep;
The watch-man opens gates for him
He calls his sheep, each one by name.
And leads them out, till last comes out,
And walks ahead while follow sheep,
Because they recognize his voice;
But they will follow not strangers;
They will not heed the different voice’
None could understand what He told;
So, Jesus said, ‘Amen again,
I am the gate for all the sheep;
All those who came before were thieves;
My sheep did not listen to them.’
‘I am the gate for sheep’s entry!
Whoever enters me, I’ll save
They come in, go out to pastures;
A thief enters only to steal;
He also comes to destroy, kill;
I came so that all may find life,
And have it in abundance too.’
‘I am the Good shepherd to all;
Good shepherd gives his life for sheep;
If hired man and sheep not own,
He leaves them to the wolf’s mercy,
Which catches them and scatters all.
This is because, he works for pay,
And has no true concern for sheep! ’
‘I am the Good Shepherd, Jesus;
I know my sheep, they know me too;
Just as my Father knows me well,
I’ll lay my life down for my sheep;
But other sheep are there as well;
They do not belong to this fold;
These sheep also, I ought to lead,
Until they recognize my voice;
And there be one flock, one shepherd! ’
‘My Father loves me for this cause:
My life I’ll lay for Him because;
No one else can take it from me;
I’ll lay it on my very own;
I’m empowered to die, arise!
A command that my Father gave.’
Again there was chaos ’midst Jews;
Some said, ‘He seems to be possessed;
While others said, ‘These aren’t words
Of someone who’s possessed because
A demon does not open eyes,
Of persons blind surely, truly.’
The Feast of Dedication came;
By then, the cold winter set in.
Then Jesus walked in temple place,
On portico of Solomon;
Some Jews surrounded Him and asked,
‘How long you keep us in suspense?
Just tell us if you’re Messiah? ’
So, Jesus answered them and said,
‘I told you but you don’t believe;
My works I do in Father’s name,
And so they testify to me.
You don’t believe for you are not
Among the sheep, I shepherd now.’
‘My sheep all hear my voice and come,
To follow me, to where I go.
They are given eternal life,
And so they shall never perish.
None can take them off my hand; .
My Father is greater than all;
And none dare take them off His hand.
My father and I are but one.’
The Jews again took rocks to throw.
Then Jesus said, ‘I’ve shown good works:
For these, you want to stone me then? ’
The Jews answered Jesus and said,
‘We’ll not stone you for your good works,
But you’ve committed blasphemy:
You make yourself equal to God? ’
Then Jesus said, ‘Is it not writ
In book of laws that you are gods? ’
‘If they are gods for who came word,
The scripture can’t be set aside.’
‘Can you call me, bless’d by Father,
One who blasphemes because I said:
‘I am the Son of God, Father! ’
If you can’t do my Father’s works,
You need not try to believe me.
But if I do, despite the fact
You don’t believe, believe the works;
So that, you understand the fact,
The Father’s in me, I in Him! ’
They tried arresting him again
But he escaped from their power.
He went across river Jordan,
To where John baptized Him at first,
Remaining there for quite sometime.
And many came to Him and said,
‘John then performed no sign like you,
But everything he said comes true! ’
So, many did believe in Him.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-23-2007
poem by John Celes
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This Valentines Day Revised
This Valentines Day,
I promise to love you more than I have in the past.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to make you feel more special than I ever have before.
This Valentines Day,
I promise that I will never make promise I can’t keep.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to make you smile bigger than you ever have before,
This Valentines Day,
I promise to give you the biggest hug I ever gave you before.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to kiss you so softly, you get butterflies in your stomach.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to never tell you I love you and not mean it.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to remain forever yours.
This Valentines Day,
I promise to write you at least one poem every month.
This Valentines Day,
I promise that I will be here next year and the year after that as long as I can help it.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I'm yours.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I meet you.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad you know how to forgive.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad you love me.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I love you.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad I didn't leave.
This Valentines Day,
I'm glad to say you're mine.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I get to see your beautiful face light up when I see you.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I stopped hating you for no reason.
This Valentines Day,
I’m glad I held your hand that one day at the carnival.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than just flowers and candy.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than little red hearts.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than a hallmark holiday.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than just sex.
This Valentines Day,
Is more than little ‘Be Mine’ cards you got in kinder-garden.
This Valentines Day,
Is a day of true love,
This Valentines Day,
Is a day of just laying in bed and snuggling with you.
This Valentines Day,
Is one way I can show you how much I love you.
This Valentines Day,
Is special because I’m with you.
This Valentines Day,
I’m so deeply in love with you.
2-11-07
poem by Brandi Young
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The Man Who I loved
The man whom we loved
And who also loved us
Always did his best in life
And had many to place his trust
He was kind and courageous
And his strength went for ages
But sadly one day the strength had to go
As he lay weak and fragile
With others bowed low
I went to his kitchen to fetch him soup and a drink
And brought it back to him as he sat on the brink
How close to death he was,
I didn’t know
Nor did I know that cancer was his foe
However I still loved him
How I loved him so
And now all that’s left of him is a corpse in a coffin
It’s all that’s left of the Grandfather I know
poem by Emily Gurdon
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A Small Elegy
My friends have left. Far away, my darling is asleep.
Outside, it's as dark as pitch.
I'm saying words to myself, words that are white
in the lamplight and when I'm half-asleep I begin
to think about my mother. Autumnal recollection.
Really, under the cover of winter, it's as if I know
everything---even what my mother is doing now.
She's at home in the kitchen. She has a small child's stove
toward which the wooden rocking horse can trot,
she has a small child's stove, the sort nobody uses today, but
she basks in its heat. Mother. My diminutive mom.
She sits quietly, hands folded, and thinks about
my father, who died years ago.
And then she is skinning fruit for me. I am
in the room. Sitting right next to her. You've got to see us,
God, you bully, who took so much. How
dark it is outside! What was I going to say?
Oh, yes, now I remember. Because
of all those hours I slept soundly, through calm
nights, because of all those loved ones who are deep
in dreams---Now, when everything's running short,
I can't stand being here by myself. The lamplight's too strong.
I am sowing grain on the headland.
I will not live long.
poem by Jirí Orten
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An Old Man With His Hat
There Little Robbie found him in an old yellow album
A blurred picture of a half old man with his hat
Standing in front of the coffin
He smiles shy but wide with his teeth gone making a hole like Little Robbie when he lose his baby teeth
Little Robbie doesn’t recognize him and he wonder where he is now
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his big sister
But his sister doesn’t recognize him and she wonder who he is
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his mother
But his mother doesn’t recognize him and she wonder how he was there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his father
But his father doesn’t recognize him and he wonder what he did there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his uncle
But his uncle doesn’t recognize him and he wonder when the picture taken
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks hopelessly to his grandfather
His grandfather takes a deep look to that picture and wonders why Little Robbie asks
Little Robbie says, “I want to meet him! I want to know about him! I want to play with him! ”
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
But his grandfather shakes his head, “No, he is not.”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
“He accompanied your great grandfather when he sick until his death. This picture is taken in a burial of your great grandfather.”
His grandfather stares at little Robbie
“Now, are you disappointed? ”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
Little Robbie shakes his head, “No, I am not.”
Though he is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
Though he is just an old man with his hat
“But I still want to meet him, I want to know about him, and I want to play with him! ”
And then he could be one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Grandfather Clock
The old Tudor house was half-timbered and gaunt,
Was gloomy and dim in the hall,
And time had stood still, since my father was born,
In the clock that had stood by the wall.
Its pendulum hung, never making a sound
I'd never so much heard it chime,
But then, on the day that my Dad passed away,
Its tick had begun to keep time.
My mother was dead and my father was gone,
The half-timbered house passed to me,
I wandered its passages, sad and distraught,
As lonely as one man could be!
I'd sit in the lounge and I'd read by a lamp
With the rest of the house cloaked in gloom,
And heard the dread tick of that grandfather clock
As it echoed in time through the room!
Each tick was a portent, the passing of life,
Each tock brought me nearer to death,
I'd listen for noises, the timber that creaked,
Sit terrified, holding my breath!
The warm summer showers pit-pattered the thatch,
The wind would sough-sough at the eaves,
And summer passed quickly to autumn that year
In a thick golden carpet of leaves.
I never once wound up that grandfather clock,
I waited for it to wind down,
But like a tap dripping, it never would stop
I felt I was starting to drown.
I found in the library's masses of books
An ancient collection of tomes,
And one that was covered in leather, I looked,
And read, and I wished that I'd known!
Sir Richard FitzWalter had lived in that house,
And he it was, ordered the clock,
He'd fought against Cromwell for Charlie the First
‘Til Charles lost his head on the block!
He'd fled to the country, was caught in the house,
And hanged on the tree by the gate,
His wife, Lady Mary, had begged for his life
But the Roundheads had jeered: ‘You're too late! '
She left them, went sobbing back into the hall
And she clung to the grandfather clock,
But just as her husband, his heart ceased to beat,
She heard that the ticking had stopped.
That clock never ran for the rest of her life,
But showed just a quarter to four,
The time that Sir Richard was pinioned and hung
At the gate, on the tree by his door.
The clock began ticking when Mary had died,
Had taken her grief to the grave,
And each generation it stopped or began
When the master was born, or was saved!
I knew then the clock had been ticking for me
And I wanted it never to stop,
I'd wake in the night and I'd tremble to hear
If my heart was still pounding, or not.
Then one winter's night I was restless, and rose
From my sleep, and walked down to the hall,
A Cavalier soldier stood facing the clock,
Adjusting the pendulum pawl;
Resetting the weights on that grandfather clock
So my heart would continue to beat,
From that time to this, I have lived here content
While Sir Richard returns as I sleep.
6 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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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My Mother(aday)
Blessed is your face
Blessed is your name
My beloved
Blessed is your smile
Which makes my soul want to fly
My beloved
All the nights
And all the times
That you cared for me
But I never realised it
And now it’s too late
I miss you
Now I’m alone filled with so much shame
For all the years I caused you pain
If only I could sleep in your arms again
Mother I’m lost without you
You were the sun that brightened my day
Now who’s going to wipe my tears away
If only I knew what I know today
Mother I’m lost without you
Mother... Mother... O my mother
How I long to see O mother
“Your mother, Your mother, Your mother”
Is the saying of our Prophet(s.a.w)
In my heart, in my dreams
You are always with me mother
You went and left me
O light of my eyes
O comfort of my nights
You went and left me
Who, other than you, will embrace me?
Who, other than you, will cover me?
Who, other than you, will guard over me?
Your pardon mother, I miss you
Nov,3rd,2009
poem by Lateef Jan Afridi Ab.latif jan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Improbable wishes
No remembrance of my great
grandfather,
Who bequeathed us a mansion.
No gratitude to my grandfather,
Who fed us with sweets and coins.
No goodwill to my grandmother,
Who left us with cash and vessels.
No gratefulness to my mother,
Whose jewels and things we shared.
No love and passion for my father
Who lives somewhere.
I would join their caravan
But with memories of
Being remembered by
My children and their children
For what I will have left.
31.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shepherd's Song
Follow, follow, little sheep,
O’er the dreary wold;
Follow, soon ye all shall sleep,
Safe from wet and cold.
Linger not, oh! lagging feet!
Night will soon be here;
Weary shepherd fain would greet
Wife and children dear.
In his cot the fire burns bright,
Supper's ready laid;
Baby waits to say good-night,
Ere he goes to bed.
Little ones run in and out,
Watch beside the gate;
"What can father be about,
That he's home so late?"
Mother makes the ashes blaze,
Baby smiles to see;
Tells them how some wanderer strays
From the flock and me.
Whilst the children warmly sleep,
On the dreary wold,
Father stays till all his sheep
Are safely in the fold.
Linger not, oh! lagging feet!
Darksome night is near;
Weary shepherd fain would greet
Wife and children dear.
poem by Matilda Betham-Edwards from Littell's Living Age, vol. 128
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost is My Quiet
Lost is what I am.
Lost is who I am.
Lost is who I have been.
Every since I Lost you I have been Lost too.
Quiet is my lost.
Quiet is my sound.
Quiet is what I am.
Quiet is what I have been.
Since I lost you i have been nothing but Quiet.
Love is what I lost.
Love is what I want.
Love is what I will never find.
Love is what I had been.
When you left you took my Love with you.
Lost is my Quiet.
Quiet is my Soul.
Soul is my cage.
But forever more
Lost is my quiet.
poem by Kelsea Osterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother...This ones' For You...
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.
My Brother In Law, AL
My brother in law, AL
Is such a wonderful guy.
He doesn't walk on water...
But if he thought he could,
We would all watch him try!
A great brother and father...
And grandfather too!
There is nothing he would stop
For someone else to do!
He works like a team of horses...
Even when he is sick!
And when he takes time for himself,
We all worry about it!
'He's doing what? ? ?
NOTHING?
What's the matter with him? '
He is 'always' so positive.
Although my sister Mim says,
'Oh, no he's not.
He can give much attitude!
And that's why I love him a lot! '
She 'is' his better half!
They are a match.
That's why they remain attached!
My brother in law, AL...
Is a pal and a friend! I
I often ask him how he does it?
And he just laughs...
Or quietly grins!
He knows who he is.
And those who are blessed...
Have much respect and appreciate him!
But don't call him Alfred Lee...
Geeesshh!
A raised eyebrow to you he will send!
And even then...
He has a smile or a grin to show again.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two doves made their own nest
Two doves made their own nest
and with time cooed in love to each other
but one on a day disappeared
and never again came to watch its loved one,
even when the branches creaked in the winter wind
nobody gave any crumbs of bread to the remaining dove,
only the bright stars were always guarding
over a small nest above an old wooden floor.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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and it was Her Summer
…And It Was Her Summer
“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
”Get lost you stupid boy! ” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to se me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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