En.Citatepedia^®.ro

From random pages

For once the eager lover
Affected to offer his best
And lo, there he is…

Crushed under shame!

The teenager ran
With the moving bus
To show her his 'worth'

There he is in a pool!

The young son blushed
When the father tried to know
The father smiled

The girl left the town!

I saw real fear in the eyes
Of a woman pregnant
While crossing the road

Her hands carefully clutched at her belly!

The young bride in smiles
Her eyes eager with expectation
Tears smudged her cheeks

For parents she would never see!

An infant cries and cries
Mother’s sterile pathetic breasts
There another mother, breasts oozing

No infant to warm her heart!

For one last time
I played the match
Of my life…

And simply lost it!

Several pages of life
Each intriguing and interesting
Not so easy to turn any page

The book burdens the elbow!

04oct2010
23.01hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother Sky Cries

Mother sky cries when the leaves turn from green to gold
Mother sky cries when the leaves die and the weather turns cold
Mother sky cries when the earth turns warm and the body sweats
Mother sky cries and leaves the heart scorned and the skin wet
Mother sky cries and father cloud mourns
Mother sky cries and baby flower is born

poem by Anthony Martello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hands & Knees

You see me walking away
What more could I say than sorry
I failed by all your complaints
You pushed a life change but its not me
And filthy hands lay apon my chest
Lay upon my sin, but I do it for green
And in your mind you are blind
And your back turn so fine
Where were you when I needed you most
So mother so father
Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
My self-indulgence to blame
For all of the shame in the family
You dont know what its like
How I feel how I cry
How I hate the way I hate my life
So mother so father Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
Pues madre, y padre
Esta vida no quiero vivir
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me

song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Daughter Cries

when a mother cries
her tears stab at her daughter's heart
as they plummet to the floor

when a mother cries
he daughter cries too
because her heroine is wounded and she doesn't know how or why
she cries because she cannot rid her mother of the pain
she cries most of all because she loves her mother

when a daughtrr cries because her mother cries,
her mother cries more
because her weakness has hurt her child
she cries because it hurts to know she's the cause of her daughter's tears.
she cries most of all because she loves her daughter

one the tears have ceased however
love remains
the love forever shared between a mother and her daughter

poem by Portia Lane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Shall Cry These Tears No More

For everything happen for a reason. Blame no one nor yourself accept the changes and challenges within. Cry these tears no more

for if somethings get tough in life its not your fault cry no more. For a mother lost at a young age its painfull but i shall dropp these tears no more

children dying at the young age loosing parents and become house hold heads please hold on because God is here always cry these tears no more

my mom died when i was an infant what did i know? But with God i still have a father i shall cry these tears no more

our youth is dying. Can we do anything please dry that face i shall cry no more

i shall wet these face no more with tears if i can speak today and walk read and write if i still feel all things that means im alive and thank God

remember nothing is hard or impossible make it a point to achieve and therefore i shall cry these tears no more

poem by Ernest Makuakua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Broken Home

she came from a broken home
where the parents at each other
would throw stones.

every day they would argue, bicker
and fight, all the way til the night.
not realizing their childs plight.

the child to them in turn would scream
but in the battle she was not seen.
from her father she had sexual abuse
fighting with him, was of no use.

he forced himself upon her at a very young age
from there on, her life would never be the same.

living in fear of what he would do
and who she could turn to.
where could she go
the judicial system moves very slow.

when she had told her mother.
her mother said it could never be
why would he go with you
when he has me?

she knew then, that she would have to leave
and with her being gone, no one would grieve.
she would pack her bags, with everything
she owned, and on the road she would go.

with tears in her eyes, she walked out
the door, to return never more.
and as she got to the swinging gate
her mother screamed to her
but it was too late.

on her dresser bureau, her mother found this note.

you gave birth to me, and brought me
into this world, and you had always said
that i was your little girl.

but when i told you what had happened to me
you laughed and turned your back on me.
so now i am leaving, because i can not
continue this abuse,
don't look for me, it will be of no use.

i love you mom, for you are my mother
just watch out for my little brother.
i am a child from a broken home
and i know that i'm not alone.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

When A Mother Cries

When a mother cries,
Her tears stab at her daughter’s heart
As they plummet to the floor

When a mother cries
Her daughter cries too
She cries because she does not know what is wrong
She cries because she can’t get rid of her mother’s pain
She cries most of all because she loves her mother

When a daughter cries because her mother cries
Her mother cries more
She cries because her pain has hurt her daughter
She cries because she does not want to see her daughter cry because of her
She cries most of all,
Because she loves her daughter

Once the tears have ceased however,
What remains is love
The love forever shared between a mother and a daughter

poem by Portia Lane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Parents

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you

I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you

Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

poem by Abderaouf Laoud
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Mother

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Reaper's Child

If you go to the field where the reapers now bind
The sheaves of ripe corn, there a fine little lass,
Only three months of age, by the hedge-row you'll find,
Left alone by its mother upon the low grass.

While the mother is reaping, the infant is sleeping;
Not the basket that holds the provision is less
By the hard-working reaper, than this little sleeper,
Regarded, till hunger does on the babe press.

Then it opens its eyes, and it utters loud cries,
Which its hard-working mother afar off will hear;
She comes at its calling, she quiets its squalling,
And feeds it, and leaves it again without fear.

When you were as young as this field-nursëd daughter,
You were fed in the house, and brought up on the knee;
So tenderly watched, thy fond mother thought her
Whole time well bestowed in nursing of thee.

poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Parents Are Not Payable

Listen, dear brothers, sisters,
Look back in nostalgia;
Think about dear mother,
dear father,
The ones who gave life to you
And thaught you how to be
a man, a woman too;
Your mother who suckled you
Nine months she bore you
in her womb;
From his own sweat your
father paid for your school
And made sure your belly is
never emptied with food.
Think about them in
everything you do.
For some day you wil be
a father, a mother too
And your children will think
about you in everything
they do
They will think of the
troubles you went through
To help them pull through.
PARENTS can never be repaid
No matter the wealth you
may have attained.
Parents are not payable,
You just have to make them
feel comfortable,
And that would be enough
for their troubles.

poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Life - The Story of Young Boy - Pt.1

She yelled and took the bottle
And then my dad yelled back
Young boy crying in the corner
Memories of my childhood are all black

“I hate you” she screams
But he hates her more
Their hatred builds
As they even their score

Pins her to the couch
Saying nasty things
Young boy is wondering
Is this the joy life brings?

Sister gets pregnant
One blames the other
Whiskey fix, does the trick
The young boy loses his mother

The working day is done
Father watching the TV
Young boy shows dad what he has done
Father doesn't want to see

Young boy makes a mistake
Dad calls young boy a name
Young boy crying in the corner
Filled with guilt and shame

Young boy seeking somebody
For his life he wants to share
Always seeking and never finding
Cause no one really cares

Mom moves away
Young boy so sad
Family broken
Parents glad

Their lives go on
But his does stay
Young boy, old life
With no time to play

Young boy now a teenager
Turns to drugs and booze
The pain he faced, he turns away
His past he wants to lose

Young boy then gets married
To a beautiful wife
Wants so bad to forget his past
And start a brand new life

Young boy yells at new wife
New wife yells at me
My young boy in the corner
The old cycle he does see

Young boy now starts seeking
To make my life brand new
For the benefit of my young boys
My pain they won't go through

New wife says to young boy
You're never going to change
She packs her bags and then she leaves
Another family now estranged

Young boy really hurting
Hoping pain won't last
For now he has a starring role
In the memories of his past

Young boy sitting wondering
Is the pain what it is worth
Broken people, doing broken things
To make a broken earth

Young boy now is fighting
Fighting for his life
Trying to make the old, brand new again
For his young boys and his wife

Young boy finds Our savior
That sits upon His throne
The abundant life he offers
Shows Young Boy he's not alone

The cycle it continues
But young boy wants to try
To fight for what his parents didn't
Then the cycle he'll defy

So young boy makes a decision
He also makes his creed
He hopes to fix his family
All to God he'll lead

So young boy gives it one last chance
With the hope that Jesus brings
Young boy knows it's not over
Til the fat lady sings.......

To be continued

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother's Son

It should never be done
For a mother to have to bury her son
In a sad tombstone filled place
Giving him over to the grounds embrace
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?
Who decided to let him die?
What is she supposed to do?
Get back up and start to dry
The never ending tears from her eyes
He was her first and only hers
Now she’s living out the curse
Of life without him on this Earth
She remembers from his birth
Happy times, with no hurt
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?
But over there is another
Bending, grieving a mother
But who is she to have to bear
Burdens that will always wear
On the hearts of mothers everywhere
She sees no life left to live
And yet her heart refuses to give
It is strong and will fight
And live the life
Taken away from one to young
It could have been anyone
But why, oh why was it a mother’s son?

poem by Rae Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Never The God...

Your eyes bright, eager and trusting,
Where do we go from here, my son,
I spent my essence, loving and lusting,
Chasing a paper god, my son.

I turned my sword to a feathered quill,
Ensnared your mother’s heart, my son,
She loved the god in the paper spill
But never the god in your father, son.

We came together when life was full
And loved at the morning light, my son,
‘Til she grew heavy and I grew dull
While you just quickened and grew, my son.

Then you burst out like a single star
That beamed from our both horizons, son
We loved you more than the what-we-were
Than ever we loved each other, son.

So she grew bitter and sharp of tongue
And I went back to the pen, my son,
But all the words that I’d ever sung
Unravelled in desolation, son.

And when she left, she took you too,
The light in my life went out, my son,
I would she’d loved me as I loved you
But love is a laceration, son.

Now you have grown, the world’s ahead,
Your eyes are eager and bright, my son;
Don’t spend your essence on paper gods
Or trust in a woman’s love, my son.

For dreams and all ambitions fade
When a woman leaves in a storm, my son,
Remember the price that your father paid;
Love sought and lost in a rhyme, my son.

13 September 1991

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Father's Room

I saw a picture in my father’s room,
tucked away in a worn paper box.
It was of him and my mother,
holding hands.

They were young too.
My mother a beauty in her violet blouse,
and my father in an old T-shirt.
They smiled.

As I sat,
wondering who the photographer was,
my Father came home,
and asked me to mow the grass.

poem by Christopher Parsons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Oft saw my dad cry (to dad)

A father's love
Can never match
A mother's…
At least in
Children's eyes…

A father's love
Cannot be shown
As easily
As in
a mother's sighs

A father's love
Is of labor dear
More distant so by nature
than… in tender
nurture lies

A father's love
Is of hidden tears
And rarely
Shown raw
emotions

Held within
A rough façade
Of gentle heart…
Of kind and
Cloistered emotions

Fathers withhold
Within themselves
Caring feelings (and memories)
Of small smiles
And big wide eyes

Fathers hold back
Tears inside while…
drying other's eyes
Yet fathers weep Inside,
so deep…most children
Know not why

And more than once
I caught a peek of tears
In my dad's eyes
And on his cheek
Fathers are …
of stern stuff made
Yet fathers
…Often cry…

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Stepmother (for Edgar Andrade Baguio)

When my stepmother first came, her eyes were sharp and bright as little
knives. Her youth and my childhood ran into each other - she was the victor.
Although my father was still alive, I felt orphaned, depressed and alone,
crying by myself, grew up alone. In the first year of peace, everyone drifted.
My father went out - returned with gray hair. I have my father to compensate
me for the loss of my childhood. Sometimes vague envy found father sitting
in silent expectation...

A decade goes by. My stepmother is still as beautiful as at first, though older.
She returns to ask my father to forgive her mistake: My half sister has
another half sister. My heart was no longer jealous - I only felt sorry for my
half sister, who was really too young... I hoped she would not find herself
once more on a tipping wagon. My father died, rain poured down in the
courtyard. My tears gleaned some contentment: Mother and father together
now, forever.

After that she aged quickly, solitary, silent as a shadow, her eyes no longer
sharp as knives. When my son entered the world, she was the first to carry
him, she who changed him the first time, placed him in the gently rocking
hammock. My half-sister asked her mother, only half-joking, Will you favor
my first child this way? Lullabies contain no riddles and tears run down
forever. My stepmothers silent eyes smiled brightly when my son threw
himself into her arms: 'Grandma! '

- Thanh Nguyen's narrative poetry

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Honor Our Father! ! !

I remember when I was young,
My New Life with Christ, Just begun,
I became Born-again!
I'll Never forget that day,
When Jesus came in my heart, To Stay!
He's been guiding me all this way,
One day I asked Him'Father, What should I do?
My earthly Dad, wants to be called father too
I know Your Word says, Call No man Father
On Earth, But Only Our Father in Heaven,
You're The Father -of us all, This is True! ! !
Father replied'My Child, You don't understand
'I AM' 'Your Holy Father'
Your earthly father is a Human, man
But You are to Honor Your Father and Mother,
Because that's one of My Commands,
By Honoring them, You also Honor Me!
I appointed Your Parents, to guide You to see,
Jesus! Through Him, You've come to me,
'I AM' The Holy Father, I give Eternal Life!

poem by Patricia Martin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Repose in Egypt

O happy mother! while the man wayworn
Sleeps by his ass and dreams of daily bread,
Wakeful and heedful for thy infant care,
O happy mother! while thy husband sleeps,
Art privileged, O blessed one, to see
Celestial strangers sharing in thy task,
And visible angels waiting on thy child.

Take, O young soul, O infant heaven-desired,
Take and fear not the cates, although of earth,
Which to thy hands celestial hands extend,
Take and fear not: such vulgar meats of life
Thy spirit lips no more must scorn to pass;
The seeming ill, contaminating joys,
Thy sense divine no more be loth to allow;
The pleasures as the pains of our strange life
Thou art engaged, self-compromised, to share.
Look up, upon thy mother’s face there sits
No sad suspicion of a lurking ill,
No shamed confession of a needful sin;
Mistrust her not, although of earth she too:
Look up! the bright-eyed cherubs overhead
Strew from mid air fresh flowers to crown the just.
Look! thy own father’s servants these, and thine,
Who at his bidding and at thine are here.
In thine own word was it not said long since
Butter and honey shall he eat, and learn
The evil to refuse and choose the good:
Fear not, O babe divine, fear not, accept;
O happy mother, privileged to see,
While the man sleeps, the sacred mystery.

poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!