Nivel
Do have my sympathy my love,
For the death of your father had touched my heart;
And today i am very sad.
Hello Jennifer,
I am Nivel your neighbour and i have this poem for you;
Because the story of your father's death had really touched my heart,
But be very strong and move on in life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I touched my father’s heart
Today
My heart shuddered for
My two month old son, my first born,
Fallen ill…
I touched my father’s heart,
That once throbbed for me,
Down numberless days and nights,
Whenever I fell ill…
Ages ago…
I touched my father’s heart,
That has sailed through
Thrice and more attacks…
That has gathered icebergs
To block the flow…
I touched my father’s heart
When my little first born
Touched his first illness,
And struggled for breath
In the frozen monsoon nights…
At the fringe of ages,
Where every fatherhood meets every sonhood,
My heart touched my father’s heart…
I lived my father’s heart…!
poem by Abhilash Fraizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I love my father
My father
Is my friend...
In childhood...
I love my father
More and more...
I am a yelder son
For my father...
I asking toys...
I asking sweets...
More and more
At my father....
My father tell
About the stores
At god...
And ramayana...
And mahabarath...
I was enjoy
My father tell story...
Enjoy enjoy...
Today my father
Live my heart only
At my heart...
My father not pass away
He was leave my home
At sumall photo pream
But...
my father leave with my
Sence and thinking...
I love my father...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You have touched my heart...
When I met you first
I know you are made for me
Your charming personality won me
From that day you are in my heart
My heart is filled with full of love
and want to fall in your arms
When I think of you
wonderful feelings run through my heart
You have touched my heart with your gentle words
You have touched my heart with your soul
You have touched my life with gentleness
and filled with full of love
I feel your beauty in my heart
I feel you are with me every moment
and I can not find anyone else
I need you now because you have touched
my heart
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You have touched my heart...
When I met you first
I know you are made for me
Your charming personality won me
From that day you are in my heart
My heart is filled with full of love
and want to fall in your arms
When I think of you
wonderful feelings run through my heart
You have touched my heart with your gentle words
You have touched my heart with your soul
You have touched my life with gentleness
and filled with full of love
I feel your beauty in my heart
I feel you are with me every moment
and I can not find anyone else
I need you now because you have touched
my heart
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
poem by suchul Jin
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It's All Because of Death
Why we are separated from our love ones?
Why we all have to die?
Why did you leave me alone in this hurtful world?
After all your promises dat you will be there,
for my wedding day, my graduation at the university.
Today I'm suffering because of death.
Today I have no father who will guide, protect, provide for me.
Today I don't have a home.
why death?
I'm living with my aunt she abuse me.
I have to obey everything she says, my feelings doesn't maater.
I don't have a say.
Why did you take my dad?
Death have no shame.
Why didn't you let me be a man before you take him?
You did the same thing to my mother when she gave birth to me.
She never had a chance to hold me in her arms.
I hate you death!
You took everything from me.
Sometimes I go to school empty stomach.
I'm living a life wit' no joy, no peace, no happiness
I'm a slave to her and her kids.
They treat me so...... bad, so... cruely....so less human.
I cry day night.
Saying why death?
but nobody answer me.
I'ts all because of death.
Death caused me suffering.
All I have is hatred in my heart.
IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF DEATH.
from a broken heart.
poem by Hopewell Syprien
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Neighbour
Neighbour
is good
Friend...
Neighbour is
good relation...
Neighbour is
Your brother...
Neighbour is
Your sister...
Neighbour is
Your mother...
Neighbour is
father and gran father...
All are thear...
Neighbour is
Not neighbour...also
your family...
Love it...
Help it...
Enjoy it...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father Death Blues
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Father Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store
Old Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans
O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest
Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home
Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues
Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through
Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn
Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Story Of Drowning Family
This is the story of a son who paused
And saw his family drowned in an ocean
He swam also, to shun his people was strong.
To answer this story needs sentences,
Restless youth strives in the ways of men
And torture arrives at the time of death.
Living an exile this death, the son was a coward
Who deposed the father from his authority of life
And questioned his father’s rights, so that he was taken.
Taken by the waves, taken, and taken,
They grabbed the waves of water
Yet were swimming failingly, and never reached.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dear Granfather
My gran father
Is...
My father...
yes...
My lovingely father...
My gran father loves for me...
At over of my father...
I am also love
My gran father a lot....
My gran father telling
Stores at my child age...
It is very happyfull...
Today my gran father
Is passaway...
I did not woory
I did not cry...
But...
Heart only think
My gran father
Golden days...
Theay all are
Olden days...
Did not come
My life that days....
My gran father also...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2)
When I think of all the things you GAVE me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
The list goes endless and I fail to count what you gave to me;
With your heart, your mind, your energy and your soul of fame!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
You burnt yourself like a CANDLE to give me light....
Your deeds are never dull; your love is never pale;
I count endless things you, an endless tale
All these you spent on me throughout the years.
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
Now I am in foreign land tormented like an alien, I'm hurt!
I am sad yet I remember Rudyard Kipling's poem, 'If' –
There a father suggest 180 things to his son; What if?
I am not with you; yet your advices ring in heart!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
I cherish our relationship forever and a day,
Till earth exists and sun sparkles in every way,
Till Stars twinkle and moon delights I carry your name,
Till death may do us apart yet I carry all the same
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
We are separated by boundaries narrow.....
Yet in my memories, I'm with as your shadow;
I may carry your fortunes for while.....
Yet I carry your hope for a mile;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done! ................................................. .......................
A BIG NOTICE BOARD:
*Your attention please: Just take a break! Now READ part 1 to make your reading wholesome. PART 2 of the poem
Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)
poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He...a father...an insentient.
He is a father,
Walking door to door,
Running here and there,
Begging the sympathy,
Ragging his own,
Only for his child,
Who is now in coma,
Fighting with death,
He...a father...an insentient.
He is a father,
Staring at the body,
His eyes are foggy and wet,
That body belongs to his son,
Who is now past only,
Only for a few dollars,
Or for a sympathy of kind hearts,
He...a father...an insentient.
He is not alone,
Lots like him around us,
Waiting for our hands,
Seeking for our helps,
He can not but cry,
He is so incapable,
Only see his child to loose,
Far away from him,
He...a father...an insentient.
You, me, anyone of us,
Would be one like him,
Please raise our hands,
Save a life of a child,
Not for the sake of god,
Not for him or his child,
Just for us, our child,
Not let them to die for dollars,
Not let to sigh and cry,
Any man of poverty like him,
He...a father...an insentient.
poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dad - Stated In Letters Of Gold
I’m deeply touched by a situation
I’m helpless to change – but firmly
convinced that the story of the
intrigue against my father
must one day be
revealed
My father WILL be vindicated one day
I shall keep on formulating his story
until it becomes stated in letters
of gold and his unselfish spirit
undying love and unique
brand of eccentric
integrity
will prevail over my mother’s mercenary
religious conniving and refinement
in using of him and his family
I started reading the book
of my father’s life about
three years ago - I’m
intrigued
determined to play a role in
reinstating him to a higher
position after my mother
relegated him to the
lowest dungeons
of infamy
poem by Margaret Alice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blind Rower
And since he rowed his father home,
His hand has never touched an oar.
All day he wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the swishing foam.
Though blind from birth, he still could row
As well as any lad with sight;
And knew strange things that none may know
Save those who live without the light.
When they put out that Summer eve
To sink the lobster-pots at sea,
The sun was crimson in the sky;
And not a breath was in the sky;
The brooding, thunder-laden sky,
That, heavily and wearily,
Weighed down upon the waveless sea
That scarcely seamed to heave.
The pots were safely sunk; and then
The father gave the word for home:
He took the tiller in his hand,
And, in hi s heart already home,
He brought her nose round towards the land,
To steer her straight for home.
He never spoke,
Nor stirred again:
A sudden stroke,
And he lay dead,
With staring eyes, and lips off lead.
The son rowed on, and nothing feared:
And sometimes, merrily,
He lifted up his voice, and sang,
Both high and low,
And loud and sweet:
For he was ever gay at sea,
And ever glad to row,
And rowed as only blind men row:
And little did the blind lad know
That death was at his feet:
For still he thought his father steered;
Nor knew that he was all alone
With death upon the open sea.
So merrily, he rowed, and sang:
And, strangely on the silence rang
That lonely melody,
As, through the livid, brooding gloam,
By rock and reef, he rowed for home--
The blind man rowed the dead man home.
But, as they neared the shore,
He rested on his oar:
And, wondering that his father kept
So very quiet in the stern,
He laughed, and asked him if he slept;
And vowed he heard him snore just now.
Though, when his father spoke no word,
A sudden fear upon him came:
And, crying on his father's name,
With flinching heart, he heard
The water lapping on the shore;
And all his blood ran cold, to feel
The shingle grate beneath the keel:
And stretching over towards the stern,
His knuckle touched the dead man's brow.
But help was near at hand;
And safe he came to land:
Though none has ever known
How he rowed in, alone,
And never touched a reef.
Some say they saw the dead man steer--
The dead man steer the blind man home--
Though, when they found him dead,
His hand was cold as lead.
So, ever restless, to and fro,
In every sort of weather,
The blind lad wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the foam.
His hand has never touched an oar,
Since they came home together--
The blind, who rowed his father home--
The dear, who steered his blind son home.
poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson
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Christmas, 1880
Great-hearted child, thy very being
The Son
,
Who know'st the hearts of all us prodigals;-
For who is prodigal but he who has gone
Far from the true to heart it with the false?-
Who, who but thou, that, from the animals',
Know'st all the hearts, up to the Father's own,
Can tell what it would be to be alone!
Alone! No father!-At the very thought
Thou, the eternal light, wast once aghast;
A death in death for thee it almost wrought!
But thou didst haste, about to breathe thy last,
And call'dst out
Father
ere thy spirit passed,
Exhausted in fulfilling not any vow,
But doing his will who greater is than thou.
That we might know him, thou didst come and live;
That we might find him, thou didst come and die;
The son-heart, brother, thy son-being give-
We too would love the father perfectly,
And to his bosom go back with the cry,
Father, into thy hands I give the heart
Which left thee but to learn how good thou art!
There are but two in all the universe-
The father and his children-not a third;
Nor, all the weary time, fell any curse!
Not once dropped from its nest an unfledged bird
But thou wast with it! Never sorrow stirred
But a love-pull it was upon the chain
That draws the children to the father again!
O Jesus Christ, babe, man, eternal son,
Take pity! we are poor where thou art rich:
Our hearts are small; and yet there is not one
In all thy father's noisy nursery which,
Merry, or mourning in its narrow niche,
Needs not thy father's heart, this very now,
With all his being's being, even as thou!
poem by George MacDonald
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Father(less) Day
Father(less) Day
by Alex Lewis
Today is Father's Day-
So joyous and so gay!
Unless you're me,
Very sadly.
For me, it's Father(less) Day.
He died three nights ago, I say.
Don't pity me, give me none!
If it were up to me, his death would not be done.
If you commit suicide, there's a lonely funeral.
No one will pity you for wearing red before the bull.
He killed himself; I don't notice he's alive.
Such selfishness and stupidity would get none to revive.
So, today
I will say
It's Father(less) Day
For me and for me (alone) .
Do not cry! Do not groan!
This day is today (whatever may be(!))
It's Father(less) Day (for me) .
poem by Alex Lewis
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Today... 'Father To The Fatherless
The Father of the Fatherless has fathered me.
No more a destitute orphan am I to be
now I've been born again into God's family
for Jesus sacrificed His life and has saved me.
Psalm 68: 5—5 A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
is God in his holy dwelling.
All quotations ©NIV
The Bible calls You by many names
each one giving a glimpse of Your glory.
Like a cut diamond radiating in the sun
with every facet depicting an aspect
of Your Divine Nature.
Today I have thought of You as
'The Carpenters Son'
Matthew 13: 53-58
O Father of the fatherless
in whom all families are blessed
I love the way You father me
You gave me life, forgave the past
now in Your arms I'm safe at last
I love the way You father me
Father me, for ever You'll father me
and in Your embrace I'll be forever secure
I love the way You father me
I love the way You father me
When bruised and broken I draw near
You hold me close and dry my tears
I love the way You father me
At last my fearful heart is still
surrendered to Your perfect will
I love the way You father me
If in my foolishness I stray
returning empty and ashamed
I love the way You father me
Exchanging for my wretchedness
Your radiant robes of righteousness
I love the way You father me
And when I look into Your eyes
from deep within my spirit cries
I love the way You father me
Before such love I stand amazed
and ever will through endless days
I love the way You father me
Graham Kendrick
Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lack of Sympathy
She tries to feel sympathy for the boy who cries
Looking deep into his eyes
She wants to comfort him and say it is alright
Most likely though it is not alright
She can’t lie to this boy who will not go
She can tell him that there’s something’s he doesn’t know
She tries to say don’t cry baby for you mother
Begs to believe that someday she’ll see her father
These words do not slip her lips
Because she knows the feel of wrong fingertips
She would have loved to say brother don’t drink and drive tonight
Given up her own life to save him from that terrible sight
Where blood and death made home
But all she does is sit and write about it in poems.
She wants to feel that grace of sympathy
But how can she
So all she says is this
Yes it is horrible to lose a father
Never to return home to say I love you and goodnight
Pleading to God why did he have to go
Yes for your father to be dead when twelve is sad
But for him to touch you when you’re eight you just wish him so
This Poem Will Be For My Mother And Father
THIS POEM WILL BE FOR MY MOTHER AND FATHER
This poem will be for my mother and father
In my old age-
Why not one more poem for them?
Who were my world
Who gave me what I am
Who in their life together
Struggled and endured through the pain
Loved in their own way-
Raised us-
Why not think of them again?
This early morning in Israel
Far away from Troy New York
Where they made their story?
Why not one small poem for them,
Who are no longer here
Who were everything once?
Why not for Ma and Dad,
The only ones the real ones the ones I love
Ma and Dad and Jakie and Joycie and me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death of the life
Death is not to be laughed at,
Nor cried at,
Death it is strong,
But will give up,
Death is the soul,
To every living creature,
Death well be in every story,
As life goes on,
Death is more then what we can handle,
But we live to die,
Death well wait,
Till it is yours turn,
Death is now my nightmares,
And in your too,
Do not run from death,
For it well get you worst,
And
Death is forever,
And never.
poem by Anna Reeves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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