That Cant Speak!
racial melting pot,
night falls into day.
the faces of the poor,
the soles of a rich man's shoes.
detainees caught and tortured,
for freedom, or terror?
the man with the gun,
the baby in his mother's arms.
the house empty set ablaze,
photographic ashes on the floor.
soldiers sweep the building,
mother and child hide in a corner....
no letters from home,
no home for the innocents.
the river stopped with sewage,
dead fish in the water....
the hurt that cant speak,
my hand on your breast!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes
(a-wa) o kodwa u zo-nge li-sa namhlange
(a-wa a-wa) si-bona kwenze ka kanjani
(a-wa a-wa) amanto mbazane ayeza
Shes a rich girl
She dont try to hide it
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Hes a poor boy
Empty as a pocket
Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose
Sing ta na na
Ta na na na
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
People say shes crazy
She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes
Well thats one way to lose these
Walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She was physically forgotten
Then she slipped into my pocket
With my car keys
She said youve taken me for granted
Because I please you
Wearing these diamonds
And I could say oo oo oo
As if everybody knows
What Im talking about
As if everybody would know
Exactly what I was talking about
Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes
She makes the sign of a teaspoon
He makes the sign of a wave
The poor boy changes clothes
And puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes
And she said honey take me dancing
But they ended up by sleeping
In a doorway
By the bodegas and the lights on
Upper broadway
Wearing diamonds on the soles of their shoes
And I could say oo oo oo
As if everybody here would know
What I was talking about
I mean everybody here would know exactly
What I was talking about
Talking about diamonds
People say Im crazy
I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes
Well thats one way to lose
These walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of your shoes
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers’ Day ‘08
North or south; east or west;
A mother’s love is always best!
Throughout its childhood, cleaned and dressed,
A mother gives baby, good rest.
A mother is the love-pillar;
A father is the source of strength;
A child is like caterpillar,
Metamorphosing in its length!
A mother keeps the home happy;
A mother cleans the babe’s nappy;
A mother tends to dear daddy;
A mom-less home cannot be sweet!
The angel in the house is mom!
The toiler of the home is mom;
The cleaner in the house is mom;
She knows all problems but keeps mum!
The chief-cook in the house is mom;
The teacher in the house is mom;
The care-taker is also mom;
She knowingly is sometimes dumb!
A spoilt-kid’s mom had spared the rod;
As children’s friend, mother looks odd;
For most things, mothers give the nod;
A mother is a demi-god!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-11-2008
poem by John Celes
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother In Law
(a. toussaint)
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
The worst person I know
Mother in law, mother in law
She worries me so
Mother in law, mother in law
If she leaves us alone
We could have a happy home
Sent from down below
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Satan should be her name
Mother in law, mother in law
To me theyre about the same
Mother in law, mother in law
Everytime I open my mouth
Steps in trying to put me out
How could you stood so low
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Come home with my pay
Mother in law, mother in law
She asks me what I made
Mother in law, mother in law
She thinks her advice is a contribution
If she would leave that would be the solution
Dont come back no more
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law....
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother may I
Mother may I
throw food around
because I am contrary as an infant?
Mother may I
play in the mud
because I like when you have to bathe me?
Mother may I
eat all the cookies
just because they taste so yummy?
Mother may I
draw on the walls
because I like your attention?
Mother may I
not do my homework
because I want to grow up faster?
Mother may I
stay out all night
because I feel like I'm suffocating at home?
Mother may I
have sex in your bed
because you arn't home to know about it?
Mother may I
borrow the car
so my friends and I can get high on the bridge?
Mother may I
take the TV
because I'll need something to do at college?
Mother may I
borrow some money
because I spent all of mine on the raised cigarette tax?
Mother may I
take you for granted
because I don't know any better?
Mother may I
have an abortion
because I am scared to become you so quickly?
Mother may I
cry in your arms
because I finally know what it feels like to be used?
Mother may I
come home to you
because I still love you more than anything?
Mother may I
have another cookie
because now I know to ask?
Mother may I
take your advice
because I want to know if he's right for me?
Mother may I
fall in love
because I want to be whole?
Mother may I
have your grandchild
because I want to be just like you?
Mother may I
give her your name
because she's just as beautiful to me as you are?
Mother may I
love you forever
because you are my loving mother and never gave up on me?
poem by Erica Francis
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A Mother
A mother shows the child the world
A mother is its world when small
A mother shows the child what's love
A mother loves her child like a doll!
A mother makes the home and bed
A mother cares for all at home
A mother trains the child to walk
And stand on own, perfectly talk.
A mother is the teacher prime
A mother moulds the character
A mother shows the child to pray
And trust the unseen God all life.
A mother is the child's best friend
A mother knows its needs and wants
A mother cares for child when sick
And feels so proud, when child achieves.
Children, thank God for a good mother
On ‘Mother's day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-05-12
poem by John Celes
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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Wings In The Night
Now in the soft spring midnight
There's rush of wings and whirr,
Birds flying softly, swiftly;
The night's a-flutter, a-stir.
Home by the bitter seas,
They have sped home together.
So glad to be coming home
To the grey hills, the grey weather.
Calling and calling softly
One lights by the window-pane:
The rook, weary with building,
Turns to his sleep again.
Ere ever the moor-hens wake
And the wild duck come in,
The birds are about the house
With a long call and thin.
They have wakened the wood-pigeon
To make her plaintive moan,
The wood-pigeon lamenting
For sorrows not her own.
Oh, they are never birds,
But souls of men on the wind,
Seeking the mother's breast,
The heart that is soft and kind.
Souls of the Irish dead,
Flown from the fields of slaughter,
Home to the mother's arms
Over the wild grey water.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Love Vigilantes
Oh Ive just come
From the land of the sun
From a war that must be won
In the name of truth
With our soldiers so brave
Your freedom we will save
With our rifles and grenades
And some help from god
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
You just cant believe
The joy I did recieve
When I finally got my leave
And I was going home
Oh I flew through the sky
My convictions could not lie
For my country I would die
And I will see it soon
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
When I walked through the door
My wife she lay upon the floor
And with tears her eyes were sore
I did not know why
Then I looked into her hand
And I saw the telegram
That said that I was a brave, brave man
But that I was dead
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Home In Your Arms
You take your coat off and throw it on the floor
Night delivers you to my arms once more
You feel so familiar as you get into bed
Cigarette smoke halo around you head
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours
Building a summer home in your arms
I kiss you with the languid adiration of slumber
Landin random as lotto numbers
One for each eye
And, oops, one on your nose
And ten for each of your cute little toes
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Am I crazy, do I talk too much?
Sometimes I think your silence is a crutch
Am I mad, are you married?
Oh jesus this love stuff can sure be scary
But so sweet... so sweet
Here in your arms
Im a bit of a mess and Im gone too much
But when Im away its you I long to touch
And certain things remind me its such a special treat
As these little things that bring you to me
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Built with all your charms
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madame Minda
i remember when i was yet so small like a
snail,
mother took me to your house where the roof leaks like a wooden
boat
and i was gazing up my eyes fixed on some stars that night like a
telescope
and mother pinched me in my arm afraid to offend your poverty like a
worm
but then i could not be stopped and i spoke so loud asking mother why are
they so poor like a
rat
and mother silenced me with her hand covering my mouth and you pretended
you did not hear anything like a
pig
you stared at me but i could not be outdone i also stared at you like a white
pegion
that was how it was Madame Minda, we started as two opposing river banks
we never reach each other like you were my broad back and i am a short
hand
that never reached your heart
i never miss you and you never change.Whatever are you i simply keep it
to myself like a
wart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Baby's Way
If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.
It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.
He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot ever
bear to lose sight of her.
Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth can
understand their meaning.
It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.
The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words from
mother's lips. That is why he looks so innocent.
Baby had a heap of gold and pearls, yet he came like a beggar
on to this earth.
It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.
This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterly
helpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.
Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny
crescent moon.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.
He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little
corner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught
and pressed in her dear arms.
Baby never knew how to cry. He dwelt in the land of perfect
bliss.
It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.
Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother's
yearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troubles
weave the double bond of pity and love.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Gift Of The Sea
The dead child lay in the shroud,
And the widow watched beside;
And her mother slept, and the Channel swept
The gale in the teeth of the tide.
But the mother laughed at all.
"I have lost my man in the sea,
And the child is dead. Be still," she said,
"What more can ye do to me?"
The widow watched the dead,
And the candle guttered low,
And she tried to sing the Passing Song
That bids the poor soul go.
And "Mary take you now," she sang,
"That lay against my heart."
And "Mary smooth your crib to-night,"
But she could not say "Depart."
Then came a cry from the sea,
But the sea-rime blinded the glass,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis the child that waits to pass."
And the nodding mother sighed.
"'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin,
For why should the christened soul cry out
That never knew of sin?"
"O feet I have held in my hand,
O hands at my heart to catch,
How should they know the road to go,
And how should they lift the latch?"
They laid a sheet to the door,
With the little quilt atop,
That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt,
But the crying would not stop.
The widow lifted the latch
And strained her eyes to see,
And opened the door on the bitter shore
To let the soul go free.
There was neither glimmer nor ghost,
There was neither spirit nor spark,
And "Heard ye nothing, mother?" she said,
"'Tis crying for me in the dark."
And the nodding mother sighed:
"'Tis sorrow makes ye dull;
Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern,
Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?"
"The terns are blown inland,
The gray gull follows the plough.
'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard,
O mother, I hear it now!"
"Lie still, dear lamb, lie still;
The child is passed from harm,
'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your rest,
And the feel of an empty arm."
She put her mother aside,
"In Mary's name let be!
For the peace of my soul I must go," she said,
And she went to the calling sea.
In the heel of the wind-bit pier,
Where the twisted weed was piled,
She came to the life she had missed by an hour,
For she came to a little child.
She laid it into her breast,
And back to her mother she came,
But it would not feed and it would not heed,
Though she gave it her own child's name.
And the dead child dripped on her breast,
And her own in the shroud lay stark;
And "God forgive us, mother," she said,
"We let it die in the dark!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Mother's Song
Lord! Oh, hold in Thy hand my child,
Guard by the river its playing!
Send Thou Thy Spirit as comrade mild,
Lest it be lost in its straying!
Deep is the water and false the ground.
Lord, if His arms shall the child surround,
Drowned it shall not be, but living,
Till Thou salvation art giving.
Mother, whom loneliness befalls,
Knowing not where it is faring,
Goes to the door, and its name there calls;
Breezes no answer are bearing.
This is her thought, that everywhere
He and Thou for it always care;
Jesus, its little brother,
Follows it home to mother.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Come Home Baby
(gerry goffin, carole king)
Duet with p.p. arnold (also with ron wood, keith richards, and nicky hopkins)
[produced by mick jagger, august 1966, not released until 1975]
[p.p.arnolds vocals]
[rod stewarts vocals]
I know just how bad Ive hurt you
Oh yeah
Make it all up to you some way
What can I do just to prove I love you ?
Should I beg on my knees baby please come home ?
Come home baby
Baby just come on home
Come home baby
I need your love so bad
Come home baby
Yes I do
Come home baby
Ill be good to you, I promise
Ill do anything that you say
I want your kiss, I cant go on like this
Treat me bad if you must, baby just come home
Come home baby
Baby baby baby
Come home baby
I need your love so bad
Come home baby
Baby come on home
Baby come on home
Baby baby baby come home
What can I do just to prove I love you ?
Should I beg on my knees baby please come home ?
Come home baby
Baby just come on home
Come home baby
Any old time you wanna
Come home baby
Ill be right here, you know that, you know that
Come home baby
Come home
Come home baby
Need you right here
Come home baby
Baby come home
Come home baby
Please please come home
Come home baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Josiah Tompkins
I was well known and much beloved
And rich, as fortunes are reckoned
In Spoon River, where I had lived and worked.
That was the home for me,
Though all my children had flown afar—
Which is the way of Nature—all but one.
The boy, who was the baby, stayed at home,
To be my help in my failing years
And the solace of his mother.
But I grew weaker, as he grew stronger,
And he quarreled with me about the business,
And his wife said I was a hindrance to it;
And he won his mother to see as he did,
Till they tore me up to be transplanted
With them to her girlhood home in Missouri.
And so much of my fortune was gone at last,
Though I made the will just as he drew it,
He profited little by it.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From the House of Yemanjá
My mother had two faces and a frying pot
where she cooked up her daughters
into girls
before she fixed our dinner.
My mother had two faces
and a broken pot
where she hid out a perfect daughter
who was not me
I am the sun and moon and forever hungry
for her eyes.
I bear two women upon my back
one dark and rich and hidden
in the ivory hungers of the other
mother
pale as a witch
yet steady and familiar
brings me bread and terror
in my sleep
her breasts are huge exciting anchors
in the midnight storm.
All this has been
before
in my mother's bed
time has no sense
I have no brothers
and my sisters are cruel.
Mother I need
mother I need
mother I need your blackness now
as the august earth needs rain.
I am
the sun and moon and forever hungry
the sharpened edge
where day and night shall meet
and not be
one.
poem by Audre Lorde
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Spawning Time
(Translation To: Laichzeit)
He loves his mother
and from the side
he gives the fish to her
it sheds its skin before empty testicles
the old skin falls on the floor
He loves his sister
and from behind
the fish eats to the mouth
the gills still bloody from sucking
on the big red eyes
Spawning time
it is spawning time
He loves his dog
oh god from above
the fish now kisses with his tongue
he spits dead milk in your face
you don't dare to touch him
Spawning time
fishmilk everywhere
it is spawning time
The mother has been taken by the sea
Spawning time
the sisters don't have time
Spawning time
the dog waves from the shore
Spawning time
the fish needs his loneliness
Spawning time
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heart, The Child, The World
Out in the world, the child
cries for the mother
as the wound cries for salt
as the lover cries
for her unrequited lover
as the ice cries out
for melting in the spring.
My heart is a spring
that pumps red blood.
I would give my child,
my girl child, my daughter
the vision of a mother
who does not flinch
when the heavy heel of man
comes down,
who loves the penis
when it pumps rich red blood
but values the wholeness
of her heart
above that battering organ,
that dumb implement,
which can so easily turn
from kind to cruel.
My heart is out in the world
like an orphan howling
on a street corner.
I want a warm, safe place
to hide my books, my child,
my heart
that is scarred,
seamed like a belly
which has given birth
to an imperious baby Caesar
but still,
despite its bursting fullness,
poem by Erica Jong
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