En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Bedtime Story

The moon lies on the river
like a drop of oil.
The children come to the banks to be healed
of their wounds and bruises.
The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises
come to be healed of their rage.
The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften,
the birds in their throats awake.
They all stand hand in hand
and the trees around them,
forever on the verge
of becoming one of them,
stop shuddering and speak their first word.

But that is not the beginning.
It is the end of the story,
and before we come to the end,
the mothers and fathers and children
must find their way to the river,
separately, with no one to guide them.
That is the long, pitiless part,
and it will scare you.

poem by Lisel Mueller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hide Me In Your Wounds

Hide Me In Your Wounds

By your wounds, I am healed
Healed in running away from internal strife
In giving up when there is still something to give

Your precious wounds gave me the love
When I wanted to give love
And the beauty and receiving grace instead of misfortune

By your wounds, I am healed
I am a survivor, a winner
I sing a new song in my heart
I witness the breaking of a new dawn each day

By your wounds I am healed
I believe that any storms in my life shall pass
And live my life one day at a time

By your wounds, I am yours
To teach, to guide, to revive and to forgive
I have forgiven myself, as I have forgiven others who caused me pain

Thank you Jesus..for those wounds
And hide me forever…

poem by Meggie Gultiano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Children Need Their Fathers

The mothers are now saying,
Their children need their fathers.
But weren't they they ones,
Who kept the fathers away?
And had the law hunt them down...
After having the courts chase they,
With warnings to keep their distance...
From these same children,
The mothers are saying...
Need their fathers!

And the fathers...
Who have discovered a peace of mind,
Are no longer trying to find excuses...
Why their fatherless children,
Seem to be out of their minds.
No matter who tries,
To blame their lack of discipline...
With no respect to others to show or give,
And put this on their shoulders...
To claim this is a reaction to their absence.

People who make decisions with ignorance,
Are always guaranteed to put their activities...
In the path of someone else to fault and shame!

'How many children raised by their mothers,
Compared to those raised by their fathers...
Have issues of discipline?
Or sit in prisons?
As a direct result of those who have created,
This statistic...
As if it had developed on its own!
Like hunger, homelessness and racism.'

~Excuse me?
I think you are looking for the excelerated classrooms.
You've stepped into a remedial one,
By mistake.~

'I'm sorry.
I was getting eye contact.
And immediately I thought they were paying attention.
Where are the excelerated classrooms? '

~Up those stairs, take a right...
And they will be the ones,
Where the light is shining bright.
You will not miss them.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother Poems

We have Fathers Poems
Why not Mothers Poems?
Without our Mothers, we won't be born,
Without Mothers, We are so forlorn.
Babies, Mothers nurture,
And guide us in our future.
To Mothers everywhere,
Lovely poems, I do declare!

poem by Philo Yan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Online II

Unmarried fathers,
Unmarried mothers,
And, children are born left and right! !
But, who is now online?

Babies,
With unmarried fathers and unmarried mothers;
Babies,
With married fathers and married mothers;
But, this issue is now investigated with care,
Because, other accessibilities are now found at various locations!

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Shower Bathe

To the mothers of your mothers and,
To the fathers of your fathers;
For i am here like one of the children of your children,
So don't see my disability and run away! !
For i am the one for your true heart.

Come to me and marry me,
And come and help me find a way in life;
For this world is full of surprises.

Please do not dropp me like the toilet roll,
For i am deep rooted in your love!
And, don't throw me away like the water from the shower bathe.

This poem is to search and to watch your status,
For i prefer to sleep my mind on a clean subject;
And to wake up fresh once again,
For i was not the first to clean your past.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Daughters

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
Cleaning up the mess he made
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart
On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Mothers Always Want Theirs Sons To Be Happy

mothers always want their sons to be happy
and so even if they marry someone
whom their fathers dislike
it is always them who settle for a compromise
and tell fathers to be flexible sometimes
not to hurt the hearts of sons

but sometimes when sons want something else
that only mothers understand
something that fathers cannot really compromise
mothers still compromise
and walk a mile farther
just to make their sons happy
and their sons leave them
to places that only mothers
by their loving hearts
know.

only mothers, yes only mothers,
and no one else.

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

Family of War

Every morning I awake I fall to my knees and pray.
God, please make the war in Iraq come to end.
There are too many fathers and sons come home
in pine boxes. There are too many mothers and daughters
doing the same. Leaving behind fathers and sons mothers
and daughter with a last memory of them waving goodbye.
There is too much blood and tears of fathers and sons mothers
and daughters being shed all in the name of peace.
God please let our leaders see how many families are dying
and that war can never bring peace. Only love can.
This prayer is my gun and God you’re the bullet I’m shooting
to end this Family of War.

poem by Lore Me34
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Night Is A Wild Beast Foaming

The night is a wild beast foaming at the teeth
The crescent moon a Cheshire cats smile
Keeping lunar illumination upon the clouds that pass on by.
The stars are pin prick holes in a shroud of death
Promising life upon the other side of the new day dawning.
As rising – re born from the ashes of the past
The solar phoenix is bursting forth upon the skylines of another realm
Here it is darkness – void – the abyss.
Here I find myself tangled within a web of delusional love
Missing the dream of kissing you
At the mercy of brutal and ruthless killers below
Those that cling to the memory of the shadow.

The river has burst its banks
The city is dying
Disease is eating away at the flesh of those breathing stagnant air.
Mothers are seeking there children in pits of tar
Fathers are slaying there Fathers in a motion to rise
Where are the children?
Those bright eyed starry gazed children, half crazed and rotting in the lair of the piper.
Maggots are nesting in the eyes of those still crying
As Mothers sigh, holding tightly in their arms the grey shades of still born babes.
What God will save them now?
What spirit of the forest night will rise to save those
That in their consumption of nature oppose the life of beauty incarnate.

What does a mirror look like?
If that clocks wrong, what’s right?

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

We Are The Children

We are the children of the sun
and the stars.

We are the children of the hippies,
who were strung out on peace and love,
and heroin when they conceived us.

We are the children of alcoholics,
conceived in blackouts.

We are the children of the punk rockers,
screwed into this world on beer and anger.

We are the children of the poor,
raised on welfare and food stamps,
and government housing.

We are the children of the middle class,
borrowing from the government to get a college degree,
to get a job with a pension from corporate amerika,
who has already fired our fathers and mothers,
before they could retire.

We are the children of the rich,
who, like our fathers and mothers before us,
care only about obtaining more wealth.

We are the children of the doctors, dentists,
and lawyers, who care more about their Porsches
and Mercedes than they do their patients.

We are the children of the American dream,
roaming the streets with a blanket,
and a garbage bag full of aluminum cans.

We are the children, who now have the children,
and we hope they won't learn racism from us,
like we learned it from our moms and dads.

We are the children who can change the inevitable,
alter our destiny, change the future from futile to
fruitful.

Amen.

poem by Mikel K Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet: Words Can Wound

Wounds of the flesh and of skin do occur;
Bruises and lacerations can recur;
By intervention or on own, they heal;
Wounds of the human heart are tough to deal.

But wounds that words may produce in one’s mind,
Cannot heal early, we always do find;
The boneless tongue is the reason behind;
Good or bad words costs alike and they bind.

’Tis wise always avoiding the bad word,
That can wound much more than the sharpest sword,
To cause non-healing wounds in any man;
Trouble among nations and men, they fan.

So, hesitate to use the wounding word,
To use the soothing word, men can afford.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The City

the city was once
a forest of trees
when the pioneers
arrive with their axes
and each tree fell
and the river swollen
mothers had to have
more children
and fathers had to
plow more fields
and plant the rows and
rows of corn
as monkeys on top
of the remaining trees
tease
the grasshoppers
find enough sleep
and the ants keep
on building their
empire on mounds
and mounds of
dry land

that was how
a city was formed
my father said

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

Tripping...

you go places
riding on a bus
transferring to a boat
sitting for a moment
on a port
seeing people disembarking
on a plank of wood
outside a launch
you see children lifted by their fathers
mothers with umbrella
sunny days
a line of green trees along the
seemingly endless road
more days to
circumnavigate an island
of white sands
night when you are alone with
everyone
staying for a while
checking their bags and
clothes
days are going fast
passing you by
on wish not to hold on any hour
you flow
like a river, yes always like a river
not a part of you wishing a clog
a barrier
you are like a rubber stretched
nothing snaps

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

Fathers Eyes

I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,
Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
And on that day when we will pay for all the deeds we have done,
Good and bad theyll all be had to see by everyone.
And when youre called to stand and tell just what you saw in me,
More than anything I know, I want your words to be,
She had her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that found the good in things,
When good was not around;
Eyes that found the source of help,
When help would not be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through,
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Some Mothers Son

Some mothers son lies in a field
Someone has killed some mothers son today
Head blown up by some soldiers gun
While all the mothers stand and wait
Some mothers son aint coming home today
Some mothers son aint got no grave
Two soldiers fighting in a trench
One soldier glances up to see the sun
And dreams of games he played when he was young
And then his friend calls out his name
It stops his dream and as he turns his head
A second later he is dead
Some mothers son lies in a field
Back home they put his picture in a frame
But all dead soldiers look the same
While all the parents stand and wait
To meet their children coming home from school
Some mothers son is lying dead
Somewhere someone is crying
Someone is trying to be so brave
But still the world keeps turning
Though all the children have gone away
Some mothers son lies in a field
But in his mothers eyes he looks the same
As on the day he went away
They put his picture on the wall
They put flowers in the picture frame
Some mothers memory remains

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

for Lina S.

SO my dear where have you been?
you don't remember the ripple of the river
it does not remember any
you or me, we are even on this matter

so you are searching for the games that children play
while their fathers are fighting the war
while their mothers wait for the bad news

there are so many
but i will not tell you their names for now

in fact i think you all know these
but you just don't want to remember
i can remember
but let me tell you about those games later

meanwhile let me write
about those who are dead and those who play dead
those who are through and those who are just beginning

it does not matter
there is nothing to be serious about
let all these go
like what i once told you

like the ripples of the river
scarlet from the top and deep red at the bottom
you know the smell
now you must remember

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

Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels

children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies

time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that

we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish

we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers

do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are

the river still flows and it will never stop

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

Lockjaw

Look out children
Mothers hide all the children who lie
Lockjaws coming with a rusty nail
Hes gonna nail your mouth open wide
Look out children
Boys and girls who do falsify
From the black forest with a hammerhead
Hes looking for you with a rusty eye
In the black forest, lives an ogre named lockjaw. lockjaw doesnt like children
Who tell lies. late at night he stalks the houses of the fibbers and the
Falsifiers, and before they can cry out from their beds, he nails their jaws
Open with a rusty nail, using his head for a hammer. you may escape him for a
While and think you fooled him, but hell get you in the end. hell get ya!
Hell get ya!!
Lockjaws coming
Hide your heads, all you lying children
Mothers hide all your lying children
Fathers hide all your lying children
Look out mothers
Telling lies to a gullible child
Lockjaws coming with a rusty nail
Hegonna nail your mouth open wide
Look out fathers
Teachers and leaders who do falsify
From the black forest with a hammerhead
Hes looking for you with a rusty eye
Many people wonder could such a terrible tail be true? who would make up such
A terrible tale? it seems such a cruel punishment for such a tiny little lie.
Well, Ive got to confess. its a fib. I made it up myself. its pretty funny,
Dont you think? ha, ha ha! gag, gag, gag!!!

song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

In These Poems That We Write

these are the wounds of the heart
let your fingers pierce that part

blood drips from a wounded heart
pain gleaming against the light

time has not healed the wounds
you can hear the screaming sounds

these are the wounds of my heart
we are not many miles apart

we share the wounds of the heart
in these poems that we draft

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

It Is Late, But It Is Not Always Too Late To Play

it is late
but it is never
always
late to still play
our games

it is dark
and they already left for their homes.
the rest are quitting

mothers are waiting
and fathers are silent as always
square jawed.

can we still play? yes just the two of us now
under the moon
beneath the trees
our feet soft on the thick grasses

you keep your mouth shut.
you pick up the ball and you throw it to me.

i am now holding it.
but i will not be keeping it for long
i have no use of it now.

i will throw it away.

can we just laugh and be children again?
let us have a new beginning.

that is my only point.

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