Assuming
My life
Just twenty years more
Assumed of..
I cogitate..
Be righteous the best
Austere, spiritual
I expiate sins
Little and little of the whole chore
Pledges then my pristine heart
A goal of five hundred poems
Readable, referable
To my own achievement
Years pass away
Quiescence in satiation
But..but
Rejuvenated mind cognitive
Of my would-be rebirth
My assumption
Of me a songstress born nascent
Again a girl..
Back past masticating the mind..
All the lessons from my teacher and guide
A philosopher allthrough for what I am
Whom my voice has endorsed
My mother..my mother..
My father too
Born to them same again?
Assuming the finale..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
First Teacher
First teacher is Mother
Next comes father
Mother gives birth
Mother is the earth
After five years
Father takes care
No substitute of
Father and mother
And they are ours
Life's newspaper.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My Story
I was born in a year
Of a great depression,
.
My parents were born here
A life made of deprivation,
.
Dave, gave me my name;
By instructions of my mother
.
My mother told me all about
My runaway father,
.
My mother did her best
To bring me up better,
.
My mother told me
I would be a leader
- a speaker
- a fighter,
.
I left my mother' s home
To search for survival,
.
Sam said I have become
A great photographer,
.
I have a craving for the arts
And poems that don't rhyme.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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My Dear Brother
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY FATHER
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MOTHER
THEY ONLY HAD TWO CHILDRENS A SISTER AND A BROTHER
BUT FATHER HAD PASS AWAY NOW
MOTHER ALSO WHENT ONE DAY TO
THAT JUST LEFT ME AND A BROTHER
AND WE WHENT ARE SEPARATE WAY TOO
10 YEARS HE CHOOSE THE JAIL LIFE
IHE NEVER CAME BACK HOME
NEW JERSEY FOR MY BROTHER
WE WERE BORN TO ROAM
WITH LETTER AND WITH PICTURES
WE ALWAYS KEEP IN TOUCH
MISSING GROW UP TOGETHER
AND THINGS THAT MEANT SO MUCH
MAYBE WRITTING DOWN THIS POEM
IN MY OWN AND SIMPLE WAYS
WILL TELL HIM ABOUT MY FEELINGS
I NEVER GOT TO SAY
BUT HOW YOU PUT ON A PAPER
THAT U REALLY MISS HIM,
OF ALL THE TIME THAT PASS WITHOUT YOUR BIG BROTHER
FROM IN MY HEART I FOUND THIS POEM
AND HOPE HE KNOWS ITS TRUE
WITH ONLY FOUR SMALL WORDS
BROTHER 'I LOV3 YOU! ! ! '
Im The Girl
Ive got a memory
A thousand years old
And I know secrets
Ive never been told
And Ive got jewels
I havent found
And theyll return me
To the ground
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
And Im a siren
Ill wreck you on my shores
And Im godiva
Ill call you back for more
And Im medusa
And Im your favourite doll
And Im a georgia okeefe
Hanging on your wall
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter before
And I remember being born just sound and light
And sound and light and light
And I remember the first time, skin on skin in the arms
In the arms of the night
Well how many times have we looked up into the starry skies
And how many times have we felt the passion rise
Every ruby-lipped girl baby, old lady, squaw junkie, girl after girl after girl
Every muse, whore, good witch, princess, back arching, year after year after year
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
Before.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Nature’s The Best Teacher
Mother Nature’s the best teacher we know,
Teaching both young and old without a fee;
Through flora, fauna and all creatures, oh!
Her lessons being unique, naturally.
Vowels, consonants, she shows to utter;
Her music is most melodious to ears;
And anyone in her lap learns better,
Than what classrooms can teach them o’er the years.
A loving Mother Nature is to all!
She soothes their minds and mends their broken hearts;
A friend and guide and playmate, one can call,
Who shares her hidden secrets in small parts.
So, go to Mother Nature, learn a lot;
No teacher betters her in any slot.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maternity
One wept whose only child was dead,
New-born, ten years ago.
"Weep not; he is in bliss," they said.
She answered, "Even so,
"Ten years ago was born in pain
A child, not now forlorn.
But oh, ten years ago, in vain,
A mother, a mother was born."
poem by Alice Meynell
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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All In The Mind
So I've got the car
We drove for a mile
I didn't even know her name
She said: "You've got the money and I've got the time"
Five years later on
She became my lover
Taught me everything I know
She said: "You were born to fly my son"
I said: "Hey! I already know"
Because it's all inside
Because it's all inside
I was born to fly, fly pretty high
Five years later on
She became my father
Taught me everything I know
She said: "You were born to burn my love"
I said: "Hey! I already know"
Chorus x2
So waste your time
On people who don't know which way to go there
Never said you were, never said
You were up in the sky
Because it's all in the mind
Just get in the car
Turn out the lights
Don't care who you are
You could be a star
Or you could be a fool
Don't care about it
It's All In The Mind
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At only 9 years old
At only 9 years old
At age you see your father as a hero
Reads you bedtimes stories and sings lullaby even in your dreams
Your night and shinning amour of a fortress in which you sleep
A friend when you have your mind to speak
But at nine years old, you learn life is cold
He is your pimp so as to feed his alcoholic need
When you are born your soul is of renaissance
But how abusive he is, it took no rocket science
A mother who was suppose to have a heart of paradise
And yet she stood aside as you where raped and vandalized
At only nine years old you tiny flesh ripped apart and sold
Filled with dirt and dressed with mold
By your own father you learnt how to hate a man
By your own mother you never really had a friend
As day in day out elderly man had a feast upon you breasts
With tears in your eyes you felt his thrust and heavy bosoms upon you chest
Only for a couple of rands, like rent to be met for his appetite
At only nine years you saw your hole life deteriorate
The school you learnt was that of life
Education syllabus was how to survive
They sat in the living like nothing had happened
And when one was done another would approach like a pattern in segment
Did they not father their own children?
Or was the greed of lust more devilish then satan
That these molesters and rappers confined to without remorse
And a mother and father who perceived you as their biggest resource
At age nine the real reason you lived was because you where afraid to die
But the real you was dead keeping you alive
I cry the tears you cry even if I not know you
Having your own father rape you because your mother allows him to
She says that’s the way of learning life
Maybe in her death she will realize you are just a child
Locked in your room butler windows for now escape
And yet everyday you prayed and still had faith
At age nine you never had a doll to play
Reality had forced you to a sex slave
How can a father upon his own child prey?
How can a father upon his own child prey?
How can a father upon his own child prey?
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane
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Christmas 2010
Christmas is the time that tells
That God was born a baby boy;
And He was called ‘Emmanuel’
(‘God with us’) , and brought us joy!
Christmas is the time that tells
That love of God was born on earth,
Becoming flesh in virgin’s womb,
Proclaiming the ‘King of Kings’ birth!
Christmas is the time that tells
That Word that was God became man,
And dwelt amongst us for some years,
And suffer in all ways, He can.
Christmas is the time that tells
That peace returned to heart and soul,
And brought back hope to sinners too,
Who aim toward a heavenly goal.
Christmas is the time that tells
That prophecy of birth of Christ
In Scriptures came to be fulfilled,
As angel choirs sang in Highest.
Christmas is the time that tells
That God chose poverty at birth,
To know how tough life on earth is,
And showed how woes can become mirth.
Christmas is the time that tells
That Christ was born to save mankind
From sins of present, future, past,
And peace came back to heart and mind.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 07-12-2010
poem by John Celes
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Mother Once Said...
My mother once said
'Don`t open your mouth before
Elders and those with white hairs'.
My mother also said
'Don`t speak unless asked'.
My mouth asked me once,
'What is my role in your life? '
I said, 'My mother has said nothing about it'.
I added, 'You swallow and eat'.
My mouth has been quiet since.
My friends said, 'Your mother is wise'.
My father said, 'She is my strength'.
I wondered how she could be so great!
Then was born my kid brother with a big mouth.
My mother said to my kid brother too
Not to do those old things
But his mouth spoke everything
Everything that I never dared.
And his mouth swallowed, ate and spoke.
Today my mother is no more
And my father is is weak and worn out.
I still remember my mother`s words.
While my kid brother speaks out his mind
My mouth refuses to speak out its regrets....
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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My Father's Persistence
Was there rain coming down that day?
I really can't remember.
My mother says it was cold and dreary
on that day in December.
Was I welcomed onto this earth
as I took my first breath in?
My father wanted a boy to raise.
Should I have stayed where I had been?
Gradually he accepted a little girl
and held me on his knee.
He played LP records for hours
and I inhaled the harmony.
My mother says he was obsessed with this
and thought I should be left alone.
But his persistence through my first two years
paid off with each new tone.
By age four I was playing the piano
and my father praised God.
My mother was surprised I guess.
But she thought me rather odd.
My happiest childhood memories
was playing whatever I'd heard.
My father was deliriously happy.
My mother thought it absurd.
Most of my youth went so fast.
Most of it I can't remember,
just like the part about rain coming down
on that cold dreary day in December.
But the thing I remember the most now
was my father's pride and joy
that I was born a girl instead of a baby boy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Hundred Years From Now
(Marty Stuart)
When you left I nearly lost my mind
And I tried to drown my sorrow
Every night in warm, red wine
My old heart's broke to pieces
But I'll get by somehow
Cause I won't care, Lord, a hundred years from now
From the top of this old world
To the bottom of the glass
I've thrown away my future
By drownin' out the past
When you walked out the door
Girl, you broke every vow
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
Tonight I'm hurtin'
In an old familiar way
Lord, I've got lots of reasons
Why I come here every day
Lord, I'm tired of lovin' lonesome
That's how old Travis feels right now
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
From the top of this old world
To the bottom of the glass
I've thrown away my future
By drownin' out the past
When you walked out the door
Girl, you broke every vow
But I won't care a hundred years from now...
Lord, I won't care a hundred years from now...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The happiest years of my mother's life were spent in Washington, D.C. It was where she met my father, where John was born and where I spent my earliest years.
quote by Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Dear
Memories of my childhood keep coming to mind
Such a cruel existence and so unkind
I've gotten past the hurt and the pain
Buried the memories deep down in my brain
Forgave you mother many years ago
When you got sick I loved you so
Never once blamed you for the past
You blamed yourself until the last
You let what happened destroy you
We didn't hold a grudge if only you knew
Just wanted you to let us love you more
But for you that seemed a great chore
Your with the angels now and your mind is free
We love you so, each one of us three
You are on our mind both night and day
We will see you again in heaven I pray
So I bid you goodbye, once more for now
Till I can be with you again I vow!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Would He Even Know Me Now?
The past is full of shades and shapes
Of people, come and gone,
'Whatever happened to so and so, '
We say, when the mood is on;
But closer still, our parents live
In the warmth of our hearts and minds,
And my father often returns to me
To haunt my quiet times.
How do you deal with a love so deep
That it tears your life apart?
The day that he left, he took a piece
Of my ever caring heart,
He died, and so did I that day,
But I couldn't even cry,
A loss so great to a fickle fate -
I wept, though my eyes were dry.
Though that was twenty years ago
I remember in every way,
He'll always be just the way he was
On that final, desperate day;
But I have changed, I'm older now
And life has never been kind,
The years have indelibly traced their path
On my face, my body and mind.
My father knew me way back when,
A child, a teen, young man,
I hovered around the forty mark
When he left in the Lord's great plan;
But one thing worries my troubled mind
And it haunts my thoughts somehow,
If we were to pass on the street today
Would he even know me now?
5 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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My brother
Nascent you were to this macrocosm,
Blessed you were to parents,
Dyspoeic, unsounded from mother's womb you emerged,
Many conceived you were with Jesus,
Afore brought forth into beingness.
Doctors resuscitate with oxygen mask,
Travail, thirty minutes passed brought you back.
Triumphant over death, won life for yourself.
Whence you cried, Father gloating in joy cried a river.
Thence avouch, sweven God's work as you grow a man.
engendered after, saw father's fond on you.
Through many years of togetherness;
Pettifogger we fought and punished.
Though non twins, grew more like identical.
when you cried a child, I cried and still does.
Such is the love of brother, my brother.
Thither you went away to boarding school.
Whereby learned ways, good and bad.
And drew more to wassailer, drunkenness.
dissever we became, perceived I abhorred my brother.
Fondly Imbibe in whisky, disremembering your sole purpose,
So fond nearly you died like once when born half dead.
And whence in hospital bed you battled for life,
I cried a river, my brother.
I do not hate as I hate cockatrice,
I care more than I care the girl of my life.
And whence you live wastefully rummy, I rue.
Come at able, find oneself and the purpose, my brother.
The life you once battled and won when first born,
Be not languish in vain.
Be cumbered and hugger-mugger no more.
Ere in final resting place you lay,
I invoke to envision you gratified after years.
Heedless of how you impeach, I despise;
I merely have one brother.
My brother! My brother.
poem by Sukkum Chang
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