The Prodigal Son
Afflictions, though they seem severe;
In mercy oft are sent;
They stopped the prodigal's career,
And forced him to repent.
Although he no relentings felt
Till he had spent his store;
His stubborn heart began to melt
When famine pinched him sore.
What have I gained by sin, he said,
But hunger, shame, and fear;
My father's house abounds with bread,
While I am starving here.
I'll go, and tell him all I've done,
And fall before his face
Unworthy to be called his son,
I'll seek a servant's place.
His father saw him coming back,
He saw, and ran, and smiled;
And threw his arms around the neck
Of his rebellious child.
Father, I've sinned - but O forgive!
I've heard enough, he said,
Rejoice my house, my son's alive,
For whom I mourned as dead.
Now let the fatted calf be slain,
And spread the news around;
My son was dead, but lives again,
Was lost, but now is found.
'Tis thus the Lord his love reveals,
To call poor sinners home;
More than a father's love he feels,
And welcomes all that come.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Going Home
Everyday the father longed to see
His lost son come back to the family
Looking out his heart would yearn
hoping each day his son would return
For the son had taken his inheritance
and left without a backward glance
To spend his great fortune having fun
was the intention of this youngest son
Wasting his time in riotous revelry
Living a life of sin and debauchery
Gained many friends through his wealth
Sang and danced and enjoyed himself
But then the time came to his dismay
when his money began to drain away
Then all his friends left him alone
To cope with life all on his own
Then a severe famine came his way
and he took a job to survive each day
Feeding the swine he wanted to fill
His empty stomach with the pig swill
Cold and miserable and full of dismay
He thought of his family so far away
'Here I am starving to death, ' he said
'Whilst my fathers servants still have bread'
So off he went this Prodigal Son
Famished, penniless and all alone
But the father saw him far away
and ran to meet him on the way
It brought to the father such delight
To see this great heart warming sight
For all the time the son had been away
The father looked out for him each day
'Father I've sinned and don't deserve
To be your son so I've come to serve
Forgive me and take me on I pray
To be your hired servant from this day'
'Kill the fatted calf and let us celebrate'
The father said because the news was great
'For my son has returned from the dead
Clothe him with the best robe, ' he said
But his brother could not understand
The reason why the party was so grand
'Father I've always been good, ' he said
'Why didn't you give me a party instead'
'Son all that I have belongs to you
You could have one when you wanted to
But this is my son who once was dead
and has now returned to me, ' he said
This wonderful parable that Jesus told
Speaks of a son returning to the fold
I too was just like that prodigal child
So lost and helpless and all beguiled
Then I went to the cross of the crucified
where Jesus greeted me arms opened wide
By His shed blood removed my disgrace
and held me in His loving embrace
J32 The Parables 5
“I’m going out, Father,
Give me my property-share,
For I wish to seek my fortune
Abroad, ” said his second son.
His property, he sold
For a value in gold,
And took his journey
Into a far away country
All his gold had been spent.
He was thrown in wants,
With his riotous living
And no support coming.
His search for job went in vain
As a servant, he fed swine.
The swine’s husk food, he ate,
In repentance, he cursed his fate.
He recalled those days bygone,
When his servants, one by one,
Stood before him with folded hands
And obeyed all his commands.
Realizing his sin against heaven,
He wished to go back again
As a servant, not as a son,
And seek his father’s pardon,
As he went out in quarrel,
He now lost his rights moral
So, he went to the farmhouse
To be a servant of that house.
Seeing his homecoming,
His father went running.
He hugged him tightly
And kissed him fondly.
”I’ve sinned against Heaven,
I’m unworthy to be your son.
Forgive my sin, ” cried the son,
“As a servant please take me in.”
His words, father ignored
And orders then he issued
“Give my son the best robes,
A gold ring and new shoes.”
For him, he held a grand feast,
And a calf cooked, the one fattest,
Everyone enjoyed the treat,
And said that was the one finest.
“A dead son came alive again.
He was lost and found again.”
Like this, he welcomed his son,
Whose love again he had won.
When the elder son came,
His servant then told him
Everything that happened,
On which, he became displeased.
In anger, he stood outside,
And refused to come inside.
He said, “I’m a loyal son, yet a feast,
Similar one, I never had in the past.”
“My son, with me you stayed long,
All that’s mine, to you they belong.
My dead son has come now.
My lost son is found now.”
“You join us in this grand meet
You give him this welcome-treat,
Let us forgive and forget
What he did, as he knew not.”
poem by Simple Simon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn 123
The repenting prodigal.
Luke 15:13,etc.
Behold the wretch whose lust and wine
Had wasted his estate,
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat!
"I die with hunger here," he cries,
"I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies
And bounteous are his hands.
"I'll go, and with a mournful tongue
Fall down before his face,-
Father, I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace."
He said, and hastened to his home,
To seek his father's love;
The father saw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.
He ran, and fell upon his neck,
Embraced and kissed his son;
The rebel's heart with sorrow brake
For follies he had done.
"Take off his clothes of shame and sin,"
The father gives command,
"Dress him in garments white and clean,
With rings adorn his hand.
"A day of feasting I ordain,
Let mirth and joy abound;
My son was dead, and lives again,
Was lost, and now is found."
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Father Sun
Strange imaginations, children hide your secrets well
Is it not temptation, makes you kiss and makes you tell?
Theres a traveler on the airwaves, and hes pleading for my heart
Light up all the candles, Im still in the dark
Hurry operator, get redemption on the line
Pull back the curtains, I think I recognize those eyes
If love is so criminal, then my penance due
cause Im still holding onto letters written straight to you
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
I swore I needed you in the back of my mind
Laid the beads upon the table, right beside the wine
It seems that we say forever, but forevers just a word
And I will be coming back for you is all I heard
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
Please dont forget me, father sun, father sun
I think I hear him whispering
Put your hand in my hand and you wont feel a thing
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh wont you save me, save me, save me, save me, save me, father sun
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Father
Father I come to you with open arms, wanting to feel your spirit.
Place my feet on Holy ground, open my ears to hear your glorious sound. Open my eyes so I will see, take wasted fear away from me.
Father give me the hope I need to survive, allow me many years to stay alive. Father you are the one I truly love, please send me your blessings from above.
Father walk with me, see me through, I’ll always keep my trust in you. Forgive me Father you know I’ve sinned, a little tap perhaps
upon my chin.
Father I’ve listened to those with false charm, placing myself in the way of harm. Thank you for being in the midst, with open
arms and a Heavenly kiss.
Father when the night is lonely and the tears come through, I desperately need to think of you. Please take away all the strife, allow me to enjoy my life.
Father when I’m weak and meet many a stumbling block and can’t make sense of here nor there, then take me Father, far away, so I may start a brand new day.
Father I ask this prayer in the name of your son “Jesus Christ” our living Savior, sweet, sweet Jesus.
Written: Oct.6,2007
poem by Melvina Germain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
My Father's Not Mine
My father's flown across the boundaries,
To fight against our nation's enemies,
Don't know if he would be back on time,
Come and ask me that how was I,
He's my father,
But he's not mine.
I tell eveyone he'll be back soon,
But how'd I know if he lost his soul at noon,
Happy I'd be if he reaches home with a smile,
Tear in my eyesif the doorbell rings with our nation's emblem coming from miles,
He's my father,
But he's not mine.
I fear of burning his dead and,
Leaving his burnt remains in the river,
Shower which I take in the morning,
Could be his with blood and not water,
Why do they fight? maiking innocent cry,
I too cry for the same thing,
He's my father,
But he's not mine.
And now I know,
That he's no more,
The man who earned our bread,
Is unknowingly dead,
I don't know how my time would fly,
He's my father,
But he's not mine.
poem by Pronit Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father, Can you see me?
Can You See Me Father?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me through this night?
Father, are you with me?
I look up at the sky, and wonder why, I feel so alone now...
Father, will you help me?
Im afraid to close my eyes.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, if I sleep now, will you be watching over me this night?
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, the world I see is so much larger, than I remember when you were here with me.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, can you help me stand own my own two feet once more?
Father, Im on my knees, looking at the sky, looking for your eyes.
Father, I've lost my way, Lord, I pray for your guidance once more.
Father, what was your will, Lord, it was not mine.
Father, can you hear me?
Father, can you see me?
Father, as I pray for your will, please come and show me the way, dear Lord I pray.
Amen
poem by Rose Rosado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Popeet - the Lost Child
Near by the silent waters of the Mediterranean,
And at the door of an old hut stood a coloured man,
Whose dress was oriental in style and poor with wear,
While adown his furrowed cheeks ran many a tear.
And the poor coloured man seemed very discontent,
And his grief overcame him at this moment;
And he wrung his hands in agony wild,
And he cried, "Oh! help me, great God, to find my child."
"And Ada, my dear wife, but now she is dead,
Which fills my poor heart with sorrow and dread;
She was a very loving wife, but of her I'm bereft,
And I and my lost child are only left.
And, alas! I know not where to find my boy,
Who is dear to me and my only joy;
But with the help of God I will find him,
And this day in search of him I will begin."
So Medoo leaves Turkey and goes to France,
Expecting to find his boy there perhaps by chance;
And while there in Paris he was told
His boy by an Arab had been sold
To a company of French players that performed in the street,
Which was sad news to hear about his boy Popeet;
And while searching for him and making great moan,
He was told he was ill and in Madame Mercy's Home.
Then away went Medoo with his heart full of joy,
To gaze upon the face of his long-lost boy;
Who had been treated by the players mercilessly,
But was taken to the home of Madame Celeste.
She was a member of the players and the leader's wife,
And she loved the boy Popeet as dear as her life,
Because she had no children of her own;
And for the poor ill-treated boy often she did moan.
And when Popeet's father visited the Home,
He was shown into a room where Popeet lay alone,
Pale and emaciated, in his little bed;
And when his father saw him he thought he was dead.
And when Popeet saw his father he lept out of bed,
And only that his father caught him he'd been killed dead;
And his father cried, " Popeet, my own darling boy,
Thank God I've found you, and my heart's full of joy."
Then Madame Mercy's tears fell thick and fast,
When she saw that Popeet had found his father at last;
Then poor Popeet was taken home without delay,
And lived happy with his father for many a day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Father Is A Father
A father is a father.
But it takes a man to be a dad.
You lost that title when you left mom and I.
A dad is man that I can turn to when I need someone.
His son first hero and a daughters first love.
Any boy can be a father.
But to take responsibility and raise that child,
That's what makes a father a dad.
A father is a father.
A boy is a boy.
But a father can be a dad.
All he has to do is become a man.
poem by Alice Spakrs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Sunday Prayer For Our Lost Sisters And Brothers
Dear Father God, once again I come to you on a Sunday morning.
Father please know that I love you dearly, I respect your name,
I love your son Jesus. Father know that I give thanks for all that you have given, your wondrous views, your precious animal kingdom, the miracle of childbirth and more.
Father this Sunday I would like to focus on praying for your children who deny you, those who say you don’t exist, those that
refuse to acknowledge you in any way. Yes Lord I pray for them
for they are lost and as your son said a long time ago, “they no not what they do”. Father cleanse their minds, open their eyes and show them the way to the truth. Father speak to them, walk with
them.
Father these people are lost, misguided and need you in their lives,
although they may never ask you Lord, give me the knowledge,
wisdom, patience and strength to know how best to minister to
these non believers. Use me Lord as a vessel to deliver your
word so they may understand there is no other that comes before
you.
Lord we all have our problems, we are all sinners, I have sinned
and still have weaknesses, but Lord I would never deny you, I
get my strength from you, I know when I have fallen you will be
there to pick me up and start me once again on the right track. I
know you will comfort me in my saddest hours. I know I will
here the whispers of your precious voice, I know you love me, I
have faith in you and I trust only in you and not in man. I belive
only in you and not in man, I know I can deal with any situation
with you by my side. Father I want these people to know you as
I do.
I ask this prayer this Sunday morning in the name of your precious
son Jesus. Thank you Father, Amen.
poem by Melvina Germain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Prodigal Son
Young man—
Young man—
Your arm’s too short to box with God.
But Jesus spake in a parable, and he said:
A certain man had two sons.
Jesus didn’t give this man a name,
But his name is God Almighty.
And Jesus didn’t call these sons by name,
But ev’ry young man,
Ev’rywhere,
Is one of these two sons.
And the younger son said to his father,
He said: Father, divide up the property,
And give me my portion now.
And the father with tears in his eyes said: Son,
Don’t leave your father’s house.
But the boy was stubborn in his head,
And haughty in his heart,
And he took his share of his father’s goods,
And went into a far-off country.
There comes a time,
There comes a time
When ev’ry young man looks out from his father’s house,
Longing for that far-off country.
And the young man journeyed on his way,
And he said to himself as he travelled along:
This sure is an easy road,
Nothing like the rough furrows behind my father’s plow.
Young man—
Young man—
Smooth and easy is the road
That leads to hell and destruction.
Down grade all the way,
The further you travel, the faster you go.
No need to trudge and sweat and toil,
Just slip and slide and slip and slide
Till you bang up against hell’s iron gate.
And the younger son kept travelling along,
Till at night-time he came to a city.
And the city was bright in the night-time like day,
The streets all crowded with people,
Brass bands and string bands a-playing,
And ev’rywhere the young man turned
There was singing and laughing and dancing.
And he stopped a passer-by and he said:
Tell me what city is this?
And the passer-by laughed and said: Don’t you know?
This is Babylon, Babylon,
That great city of Babylon.
Come on, my friend, and go along with me.
And the young man joined the crowd.
Young man—
Young man—
You’re never lonesome in Babylon.
You can always join a crowd in Babylon.
Young man—
Young man—
You can never be alone in Babylon,
Alone with your Jesus in Babylon.
You can never find a place, a lonesome place,
A lonesome place to go down on your knees,
And talk with your God, in Babylon.
You’re always in a crowd in Babylon.
And the young man went with his new-found friend,
And bought himself some brand new clothes,
And he spent his days in the drinking dens,
Swallowing the fires of hell.
And he spent his nights in the gambling dens,
Throwing dice with the devil for his soul.
And he met up with the women of Babylon.
Oh, the women of Babylon!
Dressed in yellow and purple and scarlet,
Loaded with rings and earrings and bracelets,
Their lips like a honeycomb dripping with honey,
Perfumed and sweet-smelling like a jasmine flower;
And the jasmine smell of the Babylon women
Got in his nostrils and went to his head,
And he wasted his substance in riotous living,
In the evening, in the black and dark of night,
With the sweet-sinning women of Babylon.
And they stripped him of his money,
And they stripped him of his clothes,
And they left him broke and ragged
In the streets of Babylon.
Then the young man joined another crowd—
The beggars and lepers of Babylon.
And he went to feeding swine,
And he was hungrier than the hogs;
He got down on his belly in the mire and mud
And ate the husks with the hogs.
And not a hog was too low to turn up his nose
At the man in the mire of Babylon.
Then the young man came to himself—
He came to himself and said:
In my father’s house are many mansions,
Ev’ry servant in his house has bread to eat,
Ev’ry servant in his house has a place to sleep;
I will arise and go to my father.
And his father saw him afar off,
And he ran up the road to meet him.
He put clean clothes upon his back,
And a golden chain around his neck,
He made a feast and killed the fatted calf,
And invited the neighbors in.
Oh-o-oh, sinner,
When you’re mingling with the crowd in Babylon—
Drinking the wine of Babylon—
Running with the women of Babylon—
You forget about God, and you laugh at Death.
Today you’ve got the strength of a bull in your neck
And the strength of a bear in your arms,
But some o’ these days, some o’ these days,
You’ll have a hand-to-hand struggle with bony Death,
And Death is bound to win.
Young man, come away from Babylon,
That hell-border city of Babylon.
Leave the dancing and gambling of Babylon,
The wine and whiskey of Babylon,
The hot-mouthed women of Babylon;
Fall down on your knees,
And say in your heart:
I will arise and go to my Father.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The family that used to be
The family the used to be
There was once a happy family
Everything seem to be going right
Everybody was happy
There was no arguments or no fights
My mom and dad loved each other
Well at least I thought so
But after 2 years or so
All the love seemed to go
And disappear into the night
They began to argue
They began to fight
This hurted me inside
At night I cried
I hated for the family to fall apart
This truly broke my heart
When my father left the house
I didn’t care anymore
I wanted the family to be happy and full of love
But like my father that all went out the door
My heart felt so soar
I couldn’t love anymore
So I began to not care
Doing things I wouldn’t dare do
ONLY IF MY FATHER WAS HERE
My mom worries about me and wonder why I act this way
I never told her why
I just simply reply I’ll be ok
No one understands me
No one feels the pain I feel
When I think about how my family used to be
And how it is today
So a family the once used to be a family 3
Is now a family of 2
The house is quiet boring and blue
It’s not the same with out my dad here
But I can’t do nothing but cry (tear)
Signed a hurt child
By atiya
poem by Atiya Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Blind Girl
Kind Christians, pray list to me,
And I'll relate a sad story,
Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age,
Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage.
Poor girl, she had never seen the blessed light of day,
Nor the beautiful fields of corn and hay,
Nor the sparrows, that lifted their heads at early morn
To bright Sol that does the hills adorn.
And near the cottage door there was an elm tree;
But that stunted elm tree she never did see,
Yet her little heart sometimes felt gay
As she listened to the thrushes that warbled the live-long day.
And she would talk to the wren when alone,
And to the wren she would her loneliness bemoan,
And say, "Dear little wren, come again to-morrow;
Now be sure and come, your singing will chase away my sorrow."
She was motherless, but she had a drunken father,
Who in his savage moods drank all he could gather,
And would often cruelly beat her until she would cry,
"Dear father, if you beat me I will surely die."
She spent the days in getting ready her father's food,
Which was truly for her drunken father's good;
But one night he came home, reeling drunk,
And the poor child's heart with fear sunk;
And he cried, "You were at the door when I came up the lane;
Take that, you good-for-nothing slut; you're to blame
For not having my supper ready; you will find
That's no excuse, Sarah, because you are blind."
And with a stick he struck her as he spoke
Across the shoulders, until the stick almost broke;
Crying aloud, "I'll teach you better, you little sneak;"
And with the beating, Sarah's heart was like to break.
Poor little Sarah had never seen the snow;
She knew it was beautiful white, some children told her so;
And in December, when the snow began to fall,
She would go to the door and make a snowball.
One day she'd been very cheerless and alone,
Poor child, and so cold, almost chilled to the bone;
For her father had spent his wages in drink,
And for want of fire she was almost at death's brink.
Her face was pinched with hunger but she never complained,
And her little feet with cold were chilblained,
And her father that day had not come home for dinner,
And the dull grey sky was all of a shimmer.
So poor Sarah was very sick when her father came home;
So bad, little dear, that she did sigh and moan,
And when her father saw her in bed
He was heart-stricken with fear and dread.
So within a few days poor Sarah did die,
And for the loss of Sarah the drunken father did cry,
So the loss of his child soon converted him
From drinking either whiskey, rum or gin.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father & Son
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
The son, bright-eyed in the morning,
The father, lined and drawn,
The son became the father
On the day that you were born.
We’ve all set out on the highway
Our fathers wished us well,
The sons became the fathers
In the same distinctive spell;
The road of all beginnings
Is all there is to lend,
But many a twist, and many a turn
Has marred us at the end.
He was my father’s father,
I am my father’s son,
We’ve travelled as far, and farther
Than our father’s years have run;
The twists and turns of fortune
Mean nothing, lost or won,
But the love of a father’s father,
And the love of a father’s son.
3 September 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father Sun
Strange imaginations, children hide your secrets well
Is it not temptation makes you kiss and makes you tell?
Theres a traveller on the airwaves and hes pleading for my heart
Light up all the candles, Im still in the dark
Hurry operator, get redemption on the line
Pull back the curtains, I think I recognize those eyes
If love is so criminal, then my penance due
cause Im still holdin on to letters written straight to you
(chorus)
Oh, wont you save me, father sun, father sun?
I need to tell you father sun, father sun
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, please forgive me father sun, father sun
I said I needed you in the back of my mind
Laid the beads up on the table, right besides the wine
It seems that we say forever, but forevers just a word
And I well be coming back for you, is all I heard
(repeat chorus)
Please dont forget me, father sun, father sun
I think I hear him whispering
Put your hand in mine and you wont feel a thing!
(repeat chorus)
Oh, wont you save me father sun, father sun?
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that youre the only one
Oh, wont you save me father sun, father sun?
Oh, wont you save me father sun, father sun?
Oh, wont you save me, save me, save me, save me, save me, father sun?
song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!