En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Genes

Look at yourself
and you can tell
that you're from people
you knew so well.
The eyes of father
that looked at you
and never stopped
'til he was done with you.
The nose of mother whose scent was near
each time she cooked
all through the year.
The mouth of Granny
that gave a smile
that looks like yours
every once in a while.
A chin that juts
when he was mad,
Grandpa's gift
that's not so bad.
Put them together
and see what it means.
Your face is a product
of all their genes.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Look At Granny Run Run

(j. ragovoy/m. shuman)
Said, look at granny run, run
Grandpa runnin close behind.
Look at granny run, run, ah... theres something on grand-daddys mind.
Because he went to the doctor, got a brand new pill.
The doctor said, son, you aint over the hill.
He cant sit still.
Great, gosh, almighty, wont you...
Look at granny run, run, faster than a greyhound bus. [granny, you better run]
Look at granny run, run, now grandpa is gettin serious. [somebodys calling you]
Well, he woke up in the middle of the night.
Said, look-a here baby, everythings alright.
It was such a sight
Great, gosh, almighty, wont ya...
Well, look at granny run, run
Grandpa runnin closer now.
No matter how she run, run, he gonna catch her anyhow.
Well, he jumped up and he began to shout
Granny come a-running with the mouth poked out
Said, look here, pretty mama, stop your carrying on
All I wants a little loving just before Im gone
Aint nothing wrong
Hear my lord, singing
Great, gosh, almighty
[you better run]
[somebodys calling you]
Look at granny run, run.
Well, I feel like my time aint [long], time aint [long] time aint [long]

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look At Granny Run Run

Look at granny run, run, and grandpa runnin close behind.
Look at granny run, run, theres something on grand-daddys mind.
He went to the doctor, got a brand new pill.
The doctor said, son, you aint over the hill.
Now he cant sit still.
Great, gosh, almighty, wont you ...
Look at granny go, go, faster than a greyhound bus.
Look at granny go, go, now grandpa gettin serious.
But he woke up in the middle of the night.
Said, lookie here baby, everythings alright.
It was such a fright.
Great, gosh, almighty, wont you ...
Look at granny run, run ...
Look at granny run, run, and grandpa gettin closer now.
No matter how she run, run, he gonna catch her anyhow.
He said, mama, quit your caryin on.
All I wants a little love before I am gone.
Aint nothin wrong.
Great, gosh, almighty, wont you ...
Look at granny run, run.
Look at granny run, run.
Yeah ...
Look at granny run, run.
Yeah ...
Look at granny run, run.
Yeah ...
Look at granny run, run.
Yeah ...
Look at granny run, run.
(to fade ...)

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Marvelous Toy

When I was just a wee little lad, full of health and joy
My father homeward came one night and gave to me a toy.
A wonder to behold it was with many colors bright
And the moment I laid eyes on it, it became my hearts delight.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped whirrrrr when it stood
Still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
The first time that I picked it up I had a big surprise.
For right on its bottom were two big buttons that looked like big green eyes.
I first pushed one and then the other, then I twisted its lid.
And when I set it down again, this is what it did.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped whirrrrr when it stood still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
It first marched left and then marched right, then marched under a chair
And when I looked where it had gone it wasnt even there.
I started to cry but my daddy laughed cause he knew that I would find.
When I turned around my marvelous toy would be chugging from behind.
It went zip when it moved and bop when it stopped and whirrrrr when it stood
Still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.
The years have gone by too quickly it seems, I have my own little boy.
And yesterday I gave to him my marvelous little toy
His eyes nearly popped right out of his head and he gave a squeal of glee...
Neither one of us knows just what it is but he loves it just like me.
It still goes zip when it moves and bop when it stops, whirrrrr when it
Stands still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm My Own Grandpa

It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.

This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.

Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Random things about my Mother

My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue

My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake

My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane

My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine

My mother who knew
No contentment in living

My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two

My mother who it is true
Stopped living long before she died

My mother from whose mouth flew
Words of disappointment and fury

My mother whose lips
Tasted bitter tears

My mother sat impatiently
In sorrow through her years

My mother who like Kunta Kinte
Was tamed by Diabets

My mother who was tamed
By my father

My mother who was captured by my father

My mother who fought with my father
The two them struggling false teeth piercing each others flesh

My mother who my father told to go and cook the mint

My mother who would beat us and cause wounds and bruises to our skin

My mother who love to walk about

My mother who gave a toe
A day away

My mother who kiked with her stump of a leg after she lost her foot

My mother who was a great dresser

My mother who could sing
Sang on the church choir

My mother who would be at the front of the church earliest every Saturday
My mother who insisted I be baptized and save by the holy ghost

My mother had beautiful handwriting
My mother who had nine children for five different men

My mother who tried to settle down with my father

My mother who could never swim

My mother who loved to sing

My mother who would tie us up on leashes and take us for long walks through the town

My mother who sought out hand me-downs – for our clothing

My mother who was active in the Welfare Society at church so she could cream the crop for her family

My mother who instigated many a conflicts with her numerous friend was left with only a few in the end.

My mother whom I so wanted to help evolve

My mother who I helped to live

My mother who I had to let die

My mother who lives in me

poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Grandmas Theme

Go grandma!!! go, go, go grandma!!!!!!!you know what they say. go, go, go
Grandma youll make it someday. shalalalala grandma youre doing fine. you and
Your dreams are ahead of your time!!! go go go go!!!!!
Go, go grandma ranger......
In space!!!!!!
What about grandpa? ? ? ? ?
Chorus:
Go granny, go granny, go go go granny!!!
Yeeeehaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
Yeah thats right
I love u grandmama

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marvelous Toy

When I was just a wee little boy.
Full of health and joy.
One Christmas morning I received
A marvelous little toy.
A wonder to be hold it was
Many colours bright.
And the moment I layed eyes on it
It became my heart's delight.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
The first time that I picked it up.
I had a big surprise.
For right on it's bottom
Were two green buttons
That looked like big green eyes.
I first pushed one.
And then the other.
And then I pushed on its lid.
And when I set it down again
This is what it did.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
It first marched left.
Then marched right
And then marched under a chair.
And when I looked where it had gone
It wasn't even there.
I started to cry.
My daddy laughed.
He knew that I would find.
When I turned around my marvelous toy
Chugging from behind.
It went "zzzip" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
Well, the years have passed
Too quickly it seems.
I have my own little boy.
And yesterday I gave to him
My marvelous little toy.
His eyes nearly popped
right out of his head.
He gave the squeal of glee
Neither one of us knows just what it is,
But he loves it just like me.
It still goes "zzzip" when it moves,
"Bopp" when it stoppes,
"Brrr" when it stands still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I neve

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keira

She sleeps, softly, eyes flicker,
mouth purses to suck
and I watch,
per chance
to take a photograph.

This is her first month,
we don't know her yet,
her personality will unfold
and her feet
will dance.

Intermingled in her genes
are mother's eyes
and daddy's smile
lost in a filigree of new
and vibrant cells.

A half smile, a half glint
of something there,
her first look
of recognition
and content.

Softly, she sleeps, eyes flicker,
hand to nose, thumbing,
as if to tell the world
sleep is all I need,
they'll have to wait.

Milky dreams, lullaby days
and a soft cot,
my new grand-baby,
a little girl
so sweet.

poem by Ruth Walters
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The Portrait In The Rock

Oh yes I knew him, I spent years with him,
with his golden and stony substance,
he was a man who was tired -
in Paraguay he left his father and mother,
his sons, his nephews,
his latest in-laws,
his house, his chickens,
and some half-opened books.
They called him to the door.
When he opened it, the police took him,
and they beat him up so much
that he spat blood in France, in Denmark,
in Spain, in Italy, moving about,
and so he died and I stopped seeing his face,
stopped hearing his profound silence ;
then once, on a night of storms,
with snow spreading
a smooth cloak on the mountains,
on horseback, there, far off,
I looked and there was my friend -
his face was formed in stone,
his profile defied the wild weather,
in his nose the wind was muffling
the moaning of the persecuted.
There the exile came to ground.
Changed into stone, he lives in his own country.

poem by Pablo Neruda
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Unfaithful To Myself (Beware. Beware!)

When I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not that able...
To remain unfaithful.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not able...
To remain unfaithful.

Oh, when I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.
But...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes,
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
With a feeding of myself wrong beliefs...
That other people made me bleed.
But it wasn't other people it was me.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes, I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
And I had been unfaithful to myself.

I let my woes go,
When...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
And I had been unfaithful to myself.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Male parental hierarchy.

My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.

I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.

My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.

My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.

I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.

All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.

Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Missing Link

A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Spooky kids...Familiar faces

I see ghosts…
Ghosts in my grand
And grandkid's eyes

I see traces
of my mother and father's faces
In their tears when they cry

There's a ghost
Of Grandmaw's humour
That peeks out when they smile

There's a spooky look
Of Grandpaw's wrinkled face
That pops out once in a while

There's that open grin
That cute cleft chin
That all their uncles had

There's that impish look
My brother took when he knew
He was being bad

There's a haunting hint
A familiar glint in those young eyes
Of faces that I can see

And the scariest part
That breaks my heart
Is that sometimes… they look like me

poem by David Whalen
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F a t h e r

I gave my father seven years
of love unconditional

then in my eighth year
my father decided
to mould me

in my eighth year
I saw through my father
beyond the love

the love had not gone; simply
there is not time for love
when the battle is to find yourself

my eighth year was fatal; that's fatal
meaning in the hands of fate..

forgive me, father, for
I knew not what I knew.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Father there you Are(For my dad)

Father it's been a long time,
Since I was baby which I cannot count on my ten fingers,
Cradle my mother's arms,
My eyes closed yet to see my father,
Father running around,
Now I can talk and walk,
Those years later,
Father where are you?
Seeing my mother,
Saying I love thy father,
Which I do,
My love will forever be true,
Now as I grow older once again,
I ask myself,
Father where are you?
Inside my life I see a tunnel,
Running through that tunnel I hear a voice,
Do I go or should I stay?
Trusting my gut I do,
A smile on my face,
Father there you are!

poem by Qeeony Luv
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Half my father

Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?

poem by David E. Patton
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!

poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Being A Mother Means

Being a mother means when you pray for your children God will hear
Being a mother means that you can give a hug when they are near
Being a mother means endless chores
But always with love and it should be something we adore

Being a mother means unconditional love
Even though they do aweful things
Being a mother means we remember the day they were born
Being a mother means they are a gift to cherish, one that we should Not ignore

poem by Zelda Gerkin
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when I met my father

When I met my Father
There are many cargo ships in the bay of Cascais this Monday afternoon
and I thought of my father; he too had been a seafarer.
Last time I saw him I was eighteen, sat on a bus going into town, he saw
me but I looked out of the widow pretending I didn´t see him.
When he looked straight ahead again his face was impassive but I saw
tears trickling down his chin. When the bus stopped I hurriedly left,
this old fool I thought, most likely drunk. Rain cooled my flushed face.
During the war years of 1940-45 my father sailed on ship delivering
war material to Britain and Russia and he had seen ships being hit by
torpedoes and men drown in the cold Arctic sea. When he came home
He couldn´t settle for a normal life and back then there was no help
for war damaged seamen, and many of them became drifters and only
slowly died. My father was a drunk I had seen him before sharing
a bottle of booze with his mates in the park, and I despised him and them.
No, my father never played a role in my upbringing and my childhood
was needlessly hard because of him. But today, sitting on the terrace
overlooking the blue bay, I remember his tears.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Prisoner Of War

he waited from night to night
he waited till the son started peeling over the horizon
he waited till he heard the morning birds chirp
he waited for a long time
he waited for his father
his father lost at war
his father he knew since he was born
but as time grew
the boy felt so weary
the boy waited and waited and waited
his mother giving him the same face
the same face when his father left
and the same face when he didn't comeback
but the boy did not notice this
the boy never knew his dad has been lost
but until
until he strayed up one night
a night he would never forget
he saw his father walking about in the streets
his uniform on but he noticed something else
his father had many medals
but he knew nothing of them
all that he cared about was his father was home

the boy waited 10 years
his mother fell asleep in tears
for all those years
but then he finally came home

this poem is dedicated to all POW

poem by Montana Hohensee
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