Pink Plastic Princess.....
There she sat, head tilted back in elegance
Pushed
By her father in her
Pink plastic chariot
Barely two years old
With golden multicultural skin
A crown of silken shiny curls
Framed her gorgeous face of regency
Style, heirs and grace
And she knew
She was fabulous
As she was whooshed past my
Car window
Off through the grey sordid concerete
As a bright cheery spot
Pushed by her proud, proud father
Gracefully
Picking her tiny
Button nose
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Fool Button
Fool button
By: jimmy buffett
1978
I woke up in a strange room
Id never seen before
Weird paintins on the walls
Mirrors on the ceiling
I bolted for the door
Lookin for my rentacar
Was the cordoba blue or red
Tryin to remember where I put the keys
Tryin to remember what I said
Chorus:
I pushed the fool button
My night went haywire
I pushed the fool button
Set my brain on fire
Now I was sittin in the corner of a very laid back bar
A little three piece band playin on the stand
Not knowin what lay in store
In a flash a man with a hat and a harmonica stormed the stage
The crowd went berserk, the band said what a jerk
As he went into a blues rampage
Chorus:
It was a fool palace
Double knit on parade
They pushed the fool button
As the skinny boy played and played
Push it, push it, push it
Try to make a point of protectin the innocent
But none of them can be found
It can happen anytime
Happen anyplace
It can happen in your own home town
If you dont believe my words
Or think my storys true
Get a bottle of rum and a eskatrol
And watch the same thing happen to you
Chorus:
Well push the fool button
Ill meet you in the bar
Well push the fool button
Where everyones a star
(jimmy pushed the fool button)
(he pushed it like a fool, bubba)
(pushin like a fool)
(pushed the button like a fool)
(pushed the fool button)
(pushed it like a fool)
(pushed the button like a fool)
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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What is a father?
A father is there when you say the special words, daddy……
He’s there when you take your first steps……
A father is there through the storms………
He’s always there to keep you warm…
You’ll never find a father like mine………
He’s one of a kind ………
He there when you’re hurting……
He’s there when you’re smiling………
He’s there to pick you when you fall off your bike……
He’s there to convince you to get back up a try again……
He’s always there to chase those pesky little boys away………
That’s why I am proud that my father has all of these qualities……
I’m proud to call my father Hasim Hollins………
poem by Hydia Hollins
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Frank P. Kosmach- 90th Birthday
My mother gave me a silver pen
with Frank's name and birthday inscribed.
We never knew Frank but Father told us
he was a very lucky man,
richer than the silver pen that drove him
to write my father a big check on pink paper.
Frank was lucky alright.
He paid his bills on time
and he had silver mint ships and pens
to spare and everything had
his name on it. He was the proud
chief of his german tribe and I'm sure
he knew all about world wars
and how they lasted all the time.
A story must have stuck in his head, too,
sweet like too much molasses
though I never knew him, like I said,
but whenever I write with his pen
I think of his skin, his silver-
where it went.
poem by Marina Gipps
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My Father's Son
I am my father's son.
And proud am I to be!
I am his namesake.
And it is up to me...
To ensure my journey,
Reflects what to me this means.
And I owe it to him and my ancestors...
To rise above any obstacles I see.
I am my father's son.
And proud am I to be!
I will do my best always.
And face those tests with dignity.
What I am given to receive...
I accept with a will to make him,
And those of my ancestors pleased!
I am my father's son!
And I want this known to everyone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Make My Father Proud
To make my father proud
To make my mother smile
I need no conquered worlds, a flame
Not set, the paceful style
If I can follow through
Oh, love think wavely me as my tears
Ill find the way to sell my clothes
Avoiding ships a fuss
If I dont come up, number one
Ill stand not well apart
As one for numbered numbers
When knowing in my heart
I dare not to be done
To always do my best
By listening to me, myself
So he can do or else
(of without compromise,
Shall follow the feel of constant care)
In my eleven hour
Ill be a man the way
To face whatever force my way
Prepared that are a shame
To just recall the part of guide
For which I have been named
A man and a womans youngest son
Who are growing still a child
And that will make my father proud
And make my mother smile...
(proud)
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I am pushed I will push back, that is the way I am. I am very British. We don't like to be pushed around. When the chips are down we might have to step into grey areas.
quote by Damon Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Proud
I am proud of my son
For what he’s grown up.
I am prouder when I heard
That he is proud of me
And much more when I made
My father proud by myself
Being proud of him
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Be proud of yourself.
Your son is a physician
And the daughter, a musician,
You are proud.
Your brothers and sisters
Are in high position,
You are proud.
Your father is a lawyer
And mother, a singer,
You are proud.
See, none of them
Are proud of you.
In priding you are failing.
15.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Subixa, the singer
A slim, fair, tall, young maiden on the stage,
Singing Karnatic music for an hour,
Struck my chord with her grace and modern looks.
Save her head and limbs, no skin was visible.
The seventh day moon was her close forehead.
The nose, neither broad nor sharp, was in place.
Her lips, by width and breadth, were fabulous,
So charming that the eyes never took off.
The chin, a Cape Komarine, is nice to watch.
Her neck, a peduncle, betrayed blue veins.
The hair, hung in style, was a crown on head.
She was such a beauty as could be felt
And pleased without any vulgar thought
Even by men of passion, to say the least.
23.01.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Prisoner Of War
he waited from night to night
he waited till the son started peeling over the horizon
he waited till he heard the morning birds chirp
he waited for a long time
he waited for his father
his father lost at war
his father he knew since he was born
but as time grew
the boy felt so weary
the boy waited and waited and waited
his mother giving him the same face
the same face when his father left
and the same face when he didn't comeback
but the boy did not notice this
the boy never knew his dad has been lost
but until
until he strayed up one night
a night he would never forget
he saw his father walking about in the streets
his uniform on but he noticed something else
his father had many medals
but he knew nothing of them
all that he cared about was his father was home
the boy waited 10 years
his mother fell asleep in tears
for all those years
but then he finally came home
this poem is dedicated to all POW
poem by Montana Hohensee
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My Unicorn
I finally went outside the house
Walked slowly down
Its stairs
Moving towards the path
That my father trod
Many years ago
The same path that mother
Too walked upon
Years ago to follow those
She loved most
Now, taking the same path
I too, look for those
I truly love
The white horse that father left
That mother caressed
With her tiny hands
The little bird that barely
Knew how to fly
Fallen and then learned to fly
Away
The face of the white princess
Powdered cheeks with
My kisses my sweet memories
I had seen almost everything
That was left
Except the white horse
That they have taken
Away from me
She was my only unicorn.
poem by Antonio Liao
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My Daughter’s New Daughter
My daughter’s new daughter
How precious and sweet
Beautifully perfect
From her head to her feet
Ten tiny fingers
And ten tiny toes
All dressed up in lace
With a cute button nose
I look at her face
And I see her bright smile
I have to admit
Takes me back quite awhile
I remember the day
Brought my own daughter home
More precious than anything
I’d ever known
My daughter’s new daughter
How precious and sweet
Beautifully perfect
From her head to her feet
poem by L. Pierson
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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Follow A Famous Father
I follow a famous father,
His honor is mine to wear;
He gave me a name that was free from shame,
A name he was proud to bear.
He lived in the morning sunlight,
And marched in the ranks of right.
He was always true to the best he knew
And the shield that he wore was bright.
I follow a famous father,
And never a day goes by
But I feel that he looks down to me
To carry his standard high.
He stood to the sternest trials
As only a brave man can;
Though the way be long, I must never wrong
The name of so good a man.
I follow a famous father,
Not known to the printed page,
Nor written down in the world's renown
As a prince of his little age.
But never a stain attached to him
And never he stooped to shame;
He was bold and brave and to me he gave
The pride of an honest name.
I follow a famous father,
And him I must keep in mind;
Though his form is gone, I must carry on
The name that he left behind.
It was mine on the day he gave it,
It shone as a monarch's crown,
And as fair to see as it came to me
It must be when I pass it down.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Southbound Jericho Parkway
Bobby bond
There was a man whose memories were made up,
Of nothing.
He pushed the elevator button, and go home,
To nothing.
Yes his business had prospered but women get lonely sometimes, now she has the house
His son in college had dropped out,
To expand his mind.
And sarah, his daughter had not spoken to him.
Maybe hed raised her the wrong way.
He wondered.
He checked his mailbox, with fingers a-tremblin
No mail, from anyone.
Im home he said softly, as he opened the door
And gazed at his empty apartment.
Aching, thinking.
Southbound jericho parkway
Is what you call a one-way street.
Southbound jericho parkway
Is what you call a one-way street.
At 7.20, monday after new year,
Mister henry johnson leaned against the pedal
Aimed his lincoln steady and drove himself into a wall.
How could a thing sush as this ever happen.
All the community said it was shame.
He was a good man,he was a clean man yeah,
Thats what he was a good and clean man
And his landlady said he was an exemplary tenant.
Theyre always nice and quiet when theyre all alone
At his age.
The young man sat, on a small woven mat.
While the silken smoke it cirlcled over head.
The cigarettes were there to prove he didnt care
bout the contents of the telegram hed just read.
Father, father, father.
You always seemed to be so out of reach.
And the psychedelyc sign read: peace.
Apartment in new york, a girl closes the door,
And leans against it with her head bowed low.
Thoughts raced through her mind
Of when she was a child.
Raised warmly by a man she didnt know.
Father, father, father.
She wished she had phoned him yesterday
There were so many things she had to say
Henry, the check is in my hands
Brought by the insurance man to cover all my plans
Well have flowers, your broker will be there
And sarah, if she cares, and our boy with all his hair
And the sun rose,and the sunset
As it always has,
And people yet unknown, were busy being born,
And time when past.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am My Father's Son
I am my father's son
fruit of his loins
morning of many a night
an end to his travails
in his eyes I am made;
the mirror of an unlived adventure
son of a sun
emblem of generations past
I am my father's son
strength of his grey hair
his joy at sunset
the memoirs of a lost youth
my father is a king
needing no crown or regalia
that makes me an heir
to the throne of meekness
poem by Samuel Obono Jr
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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
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Lyrael's Father
Father I’m listening
To all your travels and plans
Take me away
From all this troubled land
A sigh is just a sigh
And he knows you’ll never wake
Find your way home, Father
To live a little more
Father I never knew you well
You never really knew me
Wrap me in your velvet cloak
Do everything you’re meant to be
A sigh is just a sigh
And he knows you’re trying hard
Keep me safe and warm, Father
Don’t deny me
Mother she’s gone now
She was always there
Warm with compassion
Now I’m only scared
A sigh is just a sigh
You never knew me well
Tell me all your stories
Tell me about the world
Don’t live to ignore me
I didn’t do you wrong
You’ll find out soon enough
When all of you in me has gone
A Father’s meant to be there
Teach their children how to fight
In this big bad world with tough strict laws
To give it all their might
But how can I call you “Father”?
When you’re just another person to me
I have your genes and features
But not the love I need
A sigh is just a sigh
He’ll say Lyrael I’m proud
Of all the things I’ve seen you do
You’re my little girl
poem by Lyrael Myrna
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Seven day-deams
When I was a child, I had a dream
A dream to be like some one
I do not remember, who or why it was
When I was a boy, I had a dream
A dream to be a grown up
Amongst grown ups, as I envisioned
When I was a youth, I had a dream
A dream to make my mother proudly
Cos', she was dreaming to be proud of me
When I was a man, I had a dream
A dream to reach a plateau, one day
Amongst my colleagues already up there
Day I became a father, I had a dream
A dream to be a proud father
That being my bounden and divine duty
I had no choice, but, strove day and night
Lokzi, Podzi and Chutzi, most precious trio
Thank you, for making me proud, at last
Can never be better, I am sure
For, I shall not dream any more, for you
Being proud, nonetheless, I have a dream
A dream to say-so the world aloud
Best way to be proud, if you like
Is to dream, dream and dream
As a matured, I have a final dream
A dream to stop dreaming any more
Day I tame my craving desires
I'll be there, then, adieu to all of you all!
Jayatissa K.Liyanage
poem by Jayatissa Liyanage
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