En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Its You And Only You

Growing Old So Called 'Gracefully',
Wearing Dresses So Called 'Sense fully',
Waiting To Get Marks (? ! ! !) From The Others,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

Always Running To Fulfil Others Dreams,
Letting Them Only, To Eat The Creams,
For 'Self' Retained Only The Screams,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

Sometimes Like 'An Obedient Son' Of A ‘Father,
Sometimes Like The Same Of ‘The Proud Mother‘,
Sometimes Like 'A Loyal Spouse' Of In-Laws ‘Daughter,
Living Like An Identity-less Creature,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

Day By Day Exploiting Own self,
Sometimes For The Family & Sly Neighbor,
Sometimes For The Boss's Artificial Favor,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

Sometimes For The Sweet (?) Girlfriend,
Sometimes For The Selfish Relatives,
Expending Continuously, 'Self Possessed Positives',
Who..? Its You And Only You.

After Failing To Meet Owns Goal,
Lost Everything But ‘An Empty Bowl'
Crying With A Breached And Bruised Soul,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

Under The Broken Marbles Yet-
With An Well Decorated (Self-Written) Epitaph,
Lying Inside The Coffin & Draped Carelessly In Rags,
Who..? Its You And Only You.

poem by Durgapuri Babu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The man called My Father

My sister pointed a man on the road calling him our father
She had a faint smile hoping he would turn and smile back
I saw him walking away in a busy market wearing a suit
Perhaps a man on business while we stood like a failed investments

I asked my mother about the man called My father
She weakly smiled and kissed my chubby childhood cheeks
Years went by and that man often crossed my way, often smiled too
And i smiled back to the stranger who everyone called my father

We met once a while at his place greeting his new family
A mandatory yearly visits like paying homage to gods for life living
The man called my father looking at me with his guilty eyes
And i smiling at the stranger to the man who called himself my father

poem by Dechen Doma Sherpa
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Rags & Old Iron

Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity Crisis!

When born, I was called “baby”
And later they called me “Abby”
Within 5 years they called me “student”
And for 7 years, like that I spent
Then they called me “teen”
I loved it and felt like a queen
Then I was called “woman”
And those times, were the best
Then some one tied a knot and called me “wife”
I hated those times, it was horrible and gross
In years I became “mother”
It was beautiful but tough
Then being called “grandma”
My times got better and better
Then at last I was called “old”
And my body was frail and cold
All this time I wondered,
Where my identity has gone
Some where in the middle, I had lost it
Through the ages, I had a crisis
An identity crisis to say!

DECEMBER 23,2008

poem by Sania Harris
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Broken Dreams

I don’t see a long road ahead of me
And my coffee cup, instead of been half full
It’s always half empty

I got no home
I’m on the streets
An in the cold lonely morning
I’m awaken by somebodys cries an screams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

My past's erased from my memory
Anyone I knew before
Never cared enough to contact me

I’ve lost my friends
I’ve lost my family
My life’s falling apart
It’s coming loose at the seems

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

The dreams I used to dream
When I was a kid
Never left my heart
But I never did them, I never lived

So now I cry into my glass
To try an make it full
I’m crying lost rivers an lost streams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

poem by Lucy Vernezze
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I Meet A Lady Called Amina

Accidentally I meet her
She smiles, my heart gets sweeter
We started bawling honey words to ourselves
Alone, I smile, laugh, reflecting while staring at shelves
She sing me a song called Hallelujah
when alone my mind keep playing it ten times over

I became a victim of her magic spell
I stressed, I confused, I can't imagine, how to make my mouth tell
With countless thoughts engulfing my senses
I couldn't think of apeasing ways except to manipulate her defences
I was too foolish to think of manipulations
She called her heart and cancelled our friendly affections

I stand like a statue hating myself
Pleading like a league of mad men beating themself
She couldn't say a word except ''let me be''
I begged continuously, striving to set my heart free
She become dumbed to all my apology
And I become selfish, for helping me, not letting her be

I meet my heart replica
I meet a lady called AMINA
She is the best I have meet
She gives me memories I will never forget
Accidentally, I meet a lady called AMINA
And my heart, convinced she hold his replica

poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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Thanks Father

You treated us all so differently
Yet all the same
Family dinners were strained
Fake smiles accross the table

Thank you for letting me see the real you
Thanks for allowing me to be the one that felt I had to do something
Thanks for leaving me as the one to pick up the pieces
Thanks its just what I needed

For christmas when you gave me a broken family and a dad on the run
I never got the chance to thank you
So accept this as my apology
Let me express my graditude

All I ever wanted was a broken childhood
And I got it
Complete with a crying mother and a father who was barely there
I really loved the time we spent together

You know when we used to have those father daughter moments
Like when my sister had to call the police to pry you off our screaming mother
That was better than any birthday gift

Finally, I just want to say thank you for always being around when I needed my mother to be beaten
When I wanted our lives to be shifted
Thanks for being there with a new reason we had to move

Thanks for leaving us all to fend for oursleves
Thanks for taking my educated lawyer of a mother into the slums with you
Bringing her back dirty and exposed to your world
Now she can never get out

Thank you daddy

poem by Ashley Stone
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So Called Story

Harsh words,
spillling over,
warning the loving daughter.
Hurtful words,
telling the daughter
a one-sided story,
of a tale of deception.
Mother did wrong,
by blaming the father.
By pinning it all on
the new victim of his love.
Choosing to leave the daughter,
Choosing to leave the mother,
Choosing to leave the dear family behind him.
Moving on with a new life
to start again.
Forgetting all that was
Such a sad story to tell the daughter
who never wanted to know.
The secrets behind the new loving family.
Never knowing the truth.
This so called story
is all she now knows.
of the ending of times
between mother and father.

poem by Nicole Gehrman
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken

fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control

empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man

broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights

fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...

fallen, empty, and broken...

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Surrendering

you were full and fully capable
you were self sufficient and needless
your house was fully decorated in that sense

you were taken with me to a point
a case of careful what you wish for
but what you knew was enough to begin

and so you called and courted fiercely
so you reached out

song performed by by Alanis Morissette from Under Rug Swept
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out Of Breath

I still feel the same
though everything has changed
the pain it cost now
I feel lost inside of my own name

but I keep running
I am running
I keep living for the day that I'm with you
that I'm with you

the past has left its stain
now I feel the shame
I'll seize the day
if you take away
the chains of yesterday

but I keep running
I am running
I keep living for the day that I'm with you
and I am waiting
I am waiting
I keep waiting for the day that I'm with you

a new day
the sun is shining
seems I'm closer to finding
that life is more than where we are
no way that I am TURNING
as long as the sun is burning
now it seems that all I want is you

I still feel the same
though everything has changed
the pain it cost now
I feel lost inside of my own name

but I keep running
I am running
I keep living for the day that I'm with you
an I am waiting
I am waiting
I keep waiting for the day that I'm with you
that I'm with you

song performed by by Lifehouse from Stanley Climbfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For My Brothers

John Coltrain, cheap boxed wine, stars melting on heart strings that fall down from the sky.
So here comes your drugs they are clouding your heart. Then there goes your world you are falling apart.
Ground lying and wondering where this will lead. You missed that tomorrow, you wouldn't take heed. I saw you when standing and I saw you fall,
I reached out my hand and yelled out my empty call.
I scream and I yell I stomp stomp and you died. No tears do I weep just a broken down sigh, I pick up these pieces but more come crashing in.

The other last brother his life, hope, and dreams at an end. I fought, still fighting, hold on and I do. My life cannot flourish without him or you.

I fell through my grace at an astounding speed, maybe it was I whom should of taken heed.
Innocence failing, disgrace to our name. We can still rise above it- no we can't- and I am tarred down by my pain. I have adapted to life walking alone. I go around the family and I take on your stones. Whatever they throw can't ever be felt by an empty heart crushed without any true wealth.

These parties, those trees, those tears, and our pride. I'm carrying these memories since both of you died.
Excuse my slight hatred, my shortened contempt, , it's obvious you 2 never saw how much you meant.

Do you remember? ?

Heart seething, life bleeding lines of disease, it's heart breaking, graveyard raking pathways you choose to be free.

Farewell my dear brothers! How foolish tis thee! You might never have understood what you 2 were to me.

I lost out on my happiness. I lost out on my strength. I had my life's frame ripped away! What more could you take. You took my security and my sense of pride. Not guilt just for one but then my Rock, too did he die. I carry your weight, your bad judgments, your blame, and now that you're both gone I am 1 & 1 with your shame.

No longer just Raechael I am the other lost soul. They didn't see me much as I clung to your soles.
Just dragging behind the giants I saw.
You used to save me and catch me, never did I think I would fall.

Why was I forgotten? Why could you not see, you were the only 2 left that stood next to me. Why did you dropp into that black empty space, not knowing that would lead your souls to a faded out sense of grace.

Yes, I did cleanse you.
Yes, I washed you my brothers and I died.
Now letting you go though I cannot even try.
I will see you again hard to swallow as that is. I had to sit and watch you unravel, not the youngest anymore I am alone when I cry.

Why did you 2 wander so far from home?
I need you and you,
you knew that,
now your both gone.
I wish I could hate you so this pain would not hurt so bad.
I wish I did not love you and then at you I would not be so mad.
A little girl sits up high in a willow tree,
crying in a bayou where no one else can see,
and even though she is still alive her wails and moans
haunt the passers by
on their way home to families at home.
Little girl crying in a most inconsolable way
screams that surely frighten all new friends away.
She'll sit there forever until her dying day.
Then her soul will stay crying,
waiting,
never going astray.

Raechael Woodroof

poem by Raechael Woodroof
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be proud of yourself.

Your son is a physician
And the daughter, a musician,
You are proud.
Your brothers and sisters
Are in high position,
You are proud.
Your father is a lawyer
And mother, a singer,
You are proud.
See, none of them
Are proud of you.
In priding you are failing.
15.06.2002, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Search

I search for that something called an Identity
I search for the eternally dynamic being called 'me'

I search for that ever-elusive ray of Hope
That'll steady my walk on life's tightrope

I search for that stroke of Brilliance
That'll make me stand out among millions

I search for that much-needed Common Sense
That'll help me to decipher utter nonsense

I search for that slippery thing called Fame
That'll erase all my past memories of shame

I search for that quality called Tenacity
That'll help me cope with life's complexity

I search for that something called a Carefree Life
That'll remove me from worries and Danger's knife

I search for something called an Identity
And I still search for that being called 'me'

poem by Rony Patra
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Religious Family

Sisters and brothers are one of those precious members
In the family. Their role is infinite.
They shock themselves with delight.
They read signs and play with them.
Their signs are obvious,
Useful to the parents,
Forcing action of the family.
Heaven can arrive around the bend,
When the families die and their hell is dismissed by God.
Mothers shall look forward to heaven, and their husbands
Are found too in heaven, or shall I say Paradise.

“My son is big at religion, ” says the father to his child.
For this prayer to be answered, the boy must be big, an adult.
His life at the moment has laws broken, the lawful one is not him.
For he is criminal in his action, in his life and love.
He spent a time with another person, and did not get married.
He did not like this now, and not seven times a week.
He must pray and be forgiven, would say God.
God loves the boy’s father, however, and thus the boy is forgiven
For he is big at religion.
The father has his prayer answered.
Afterwards, the father cries for his child as he has lost him to the elements.

The story is such that it makes us cry, and cry and cry.
To find the mother, we must find the father and his prayer.
We find she is forced to marry someone else
But the daughter is forced to object, due to her religion.
The daughter is confused and wants to know why this happens.
The mother blames the divorce on her son who adventured and died.
The father’s prayer was answered but his wife went astray,
and his daughter was too big at religion.
The daughter shall grow and grow to be a happy woman.
Both parents died due to cancer.
It means the average family would die in the ways of religion,
And not religion die in the ways of family.

poem by Naveed Akram
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So-called Chaos

Deadlines, meetings and contracts all breached
D-days and structure responsibility
Have-to's and need-to's and get-to's by three
Eleventh hours and upset employees
I want to be naked, running through the streets
I want to invite this so called chaos, that youd think I dare not be
I want to be weightless, flying through the air
I want to drop all these limitations and return to who I was meant to be
Heartburn and headaches and soon-to-be ulcers
Compulsive yearnings non-stop to please others
I want to be naked, running through the streets
I want to invite this so called chaos, that youd think I dare not be
I want to be weightless, flying through the air
I want to drop all these limitations at the shoes upon my feet
All wont be lost if Im governed by my own uniqueness
Stop lights won't work I'll get home sound and safe regardless
Wont deem me had if I'm led by my own rulelessness
My fire wont quell and Ill be harm-free and distressless
Trust me
Line towing, and helping, expectations up to living
Inside box obeying, inside line cutting
I want to be naked, running through the streets
I want to invite this so called chaos, that youd think I dare not be
I want to be weightless, flying through the air
I want to drop all these limitations at the shoes upon my feet
I want to be naked, running through the streets
I want to invite this so called chaos, that youd think I dare not be
I want to be weightless, flying through the air
I want to drop all these limitations and return to who I was meant to be

song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happy Family

playing the role of the happy family,
acting carefully like a perfect family,
putting a lie,
in everyone's eye,
making promises that can't be broken,
putting smiles that can't be taken,
feeling bad and not happy,
but being good at acting happy.

playing the role of the happy family,
father, mother, sister and brother,
but none of them bothers,
everyone is all alone.
talking in a different phone,
talking with a different language,
eating at the same table everyday,
acting happy by every way,

playing the role of the happy family
but there is always the quite,
for every single day and night.
wearing a faked smile,
letting between each one of them, a mile
watching together the television,
but each one is seeing it from his vision,
trying to love and care,
but they can't even share,
each one is in adifferent place.
wearing a big mask on his or her face
a mask of a big smile like a clown,
as all of them are living in a different town,

but still playing the role of the happy family,
still acting like a happy family
still wanting to make us believe that they are a family.

poem by Sarah Abu Zeid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother, Father

She sits alone, an empty stare
A mothers face she wears
Where did she go wrong,
The fight is gone
Lord help this broken home
Hey, mother, father, sister
Hey, come back, tryin, believein
Hey, mother, father, dreamer
Dont you know that Im alive for you
Im your sevenths son
And when lightin strikes the family
Have faith, believe.
With dreams he tried, lost his pride
He drinks his life away
One photograph, in broken glass
It should not end this way.
Through bitter tears
And wounded years, those ties
Of blood were strong
So much to say, those yesterdays
So now dont you turn away.
(chorus)

song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Isn't Free...

Who says our freedom is free? Not Me.
True, We are freer than most, but not enough,
that we should boast.
Before you say Freedom is free, stop and count the cost
of all the lives lost,
Freedom isn't free, when there's killing in our streets.
Freedom isn't free, to the Soldier that is waiting to be shipped over seas.
Freedom isn't free, with the pain, he or she is feeling inside, with
the thought of having to leave they're loved one's behind, and
it hurts so bad that it brings them to their knees.
Freedom isn't free, when your living in uncertainty.
Freedom isn't free, having to say good-bye, to a loved one that
is going off to war.Freedom isn't free, to a soldier who is on the front lines, knowing he or she, could die anytime.
Freedom isn't free when your lying in bed,
waiting and wondering, if you'll ever see your loved ones alive again.
Freedom isn't free, when a little child crys in the night,
for his or her Mommy and Daddy, and they're not there to hold them close, and comfort them, and to ease their fears, and wipe away they're tears. And all those in all the other wars, and the lives that are still being lost at this very moment.
Do you still say Freedom is free?
Freedom isn't free, when a Soldier is wounded in battle.
When news reaches, Family and friends at home,
And their told that their Soldier is wounded far beyond repair,
The loss and pain felt can not compare.
Freedom isn't free, with all those many Soldiers that wished they
had died because of all the pain in their broken up bodies.
Freedom isn't free, when your lying in bed, and you hear that dreaded
tap on your door.And you pray to God that you were only having a bad dream.
Freedom isn't free when you open the door and listen to the
bugle play, and you feel a sudden chill.
Everything goes still.
Freedom isn't free, when there is a Flag being draped
over a coffin, of a Brother, Sister, or a friend.
Freedom isn't free, when you think of all the children,
of the mothers and the wives, of Fathers, sons and husbands, whose
lives have been interrupted.
Freedom isn't free, when you think about the graveyard at the
bottom of the sea, of the unmarked graves in Arlington.
Who say's Freedom is Free? Not Me!

Written 7/23/008
BY Nora Eason

poem by Nora Eason
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Family

Her family is broken.
Her father's never home and when
he is, he doesn't even notice her.
Her brother is never here, always with
his girlfriend just so he can escape
this place. Her sister the drug addict
and alcoholic, takes her kid to
her ‘husbands' house where he
beats her and treats her like a slave,
cheating on her all the time.
Her mom doesn't care anymore,
just ignores everyone, just like her father.
She herself has given up on this broken family.
It may not seem as broken as the worst but
it's broken enough
for the little girl to
end her life. Leaving behind her family.
They wake up and realize
that their family is broken.
When it's too late

poem by Nichole Herrin
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All to War

I lost my mother
I lost my father
I lost my brother
And lost my dreams too

I lost my friends
I lost my family
I lost my sister
And lost my will too

I lost my school
I lost my work
I lost my city
And lost my rights too

I lost my day
I lost my night
I lost my sight
And lost my morning dew

(to the soul of every victim of war)

poem by Ezekiel Johnson
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