Orthodox
Love to whom, who really lover you,
But never hate who does with you so,
Kindle the revolution in the heart of you,
And remove the baseless tradition like a foe.
In a town, there lived a handsome boy,
There lived a girl too, full of coy,
Both were young having strong intention,
They would meet and did long time mention.
The time passed their love got its culmination,
Castes were different but had sinkie thought,
And wished to marry they had determination,
And life-partner in each other they'd sought.
Race was the single obstacle in their wedding way,
They eloped and married and enjoyed a marital life,
Cause they never dare to their families say,
Now they began living happily but with strife.
Both families got angery knowing this deed,
His father warned not to come back,
They would be killed if they paid on heed,
All seasons passed, they didn't come back.
He begot four children with the passage of time,
Now their children got their prime,
Passing twenty years, once he thought,
Their elopement likely they had forgot.
With his family he started for his home,
To see his father's home children were keen,
Cause they had been fed up living in single home,
Cause their grandparents they had never seen.
Reaching that town, it began to rain,
Children were wet like blossoming flowers,
Somehow he managed to reach the door again,
Door was knocked snackly like it showers.
The door being opened, emerged his mother,
Seeing them her joys knew no bound,
Kissed and hugged, and let them enter,
And home filled for sometimes with joyful sound.
The father saw them, became red and red,
And frightened mother her tears began to shed,
He roared, ' You've lost my dignity,
So, on you can never be taken pity.'
He pushed into his room, emerged in little time,
There was gun in his old hand,
Shot at all, like attacks a lion in his prime,
A moment passed, all six were lying dead on the land.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil

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Related quotes
Single Father
Lately I've been spendin lots of time with my kid
Tellin him stories
About the things that we did
When we were a family
Long time ago
I've answered his questions
Till I'm blue in the face
Wish all that hurt in him
I could erase
But I tell him the truth
Cause he ain't too young to know
Single father
Part time mother
When I'm not one
Then I'm the other
You used to be
My full time lover
Now I'm a single father
And a part time mother
I spend every minute
I can with my boy
There's no doubt about it
He's my pride and joy
Someday he will grow up
And I wont have him no more
Some things I just find
Too hard to explain
So we go to McDonalds
Or I buy him a train
And we go put it together
On the living room floor
Such is the life
Of a single father
He says daddy explain
If its not too much bother
While its just you and me
Living here in this home
I don't understand it
And neither does he
Why there's just two
When there should be three of us
Sharing this moment
Lord I feel so alone
[repeat chorus]
song performed by by Kid Rock

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Family?
Do, I have a Family?
If you ask me
I have no family merely associates
For families are genarally suppose to be filled with love
Mine is filled with hatred and with pain.
I am the perfect example of a 21st century family
Due to the mishaps of this world, my mother is a single parent
Much like now most of the world.
And as the years go by it only gets worse.
Families used to be loving, or at least that's what I 've heard.
Why can't we bring back family to what it was?
A mother, a father and children, living under one roof with love
For me, for years I lived afraid for my life, a confused little girl
Without a helpful hand in sight.
Everytime I trusted a man I got burned in the proccess
Only six yet I was afraid because of this.
Because of my 'so-called' family.
Why do they do this to me? !
I can never even look upon my 'brother' the same
For to me he is no longer a brother.
And I do not know how to express my pain, with sorrow or laughter?
Someone please save me from this disaster!
Who do you run to for help
When your family is causing the pain
And the matters are to far- fetched for the police?
Who do you trust and who do you call?
Definetly not your family.
So, now again I ask you
DO I HAVE A FAMILY?
poem by Ashley Stone

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Love Of A Parent
They had married at a very young age
At the time they thought it was a game.
They had been together for a long time
and he thought that everything would be fine.
They had lived together for two years or more
And they thought they knew the score.
At seventeen years of age they felt they knew it all
And life was to have a ball.
With part time jobs they paid their bills
Living together was such a thrill.
Not having to worry about a curfew hour
Now ' they had all the power'.
Going out partying every weekend
Not thinking of the money that they spent.
Coming home late at night, being drunk
They would start to fight.
She started feeling some menstruation pain
And from this point on their lives would change.
She went to her doctor to check it out
Pregnant she was - there was no doubt.
Now their eyes opened to the fact
From this point on there was no turning back.
They now had a child on the way
And they could no longer go out to play.
He got a full time job and straightened up his act
And a better position he would have to attack.
He went back to school To get a better education
And to give his wife and child all that he could give
And with both their incomes they would have to live.
She worked for seven months till she
Could work no longer, and to get their house in order.
When she went to the hospital because her time was due
She found out she was having not one but two.
She gave birth to a beautiful boy and girl
He was a diamond and she a pearl.
The most precious babies you'd ever want to see
And he was the proud father - as proud as can be.
They struggled like most couples do
But he was determined to see it through.
She took her children and held them tight
For in their faces she saw their fathers might.
His love so strong for his family
And this is what they all did see.
And the rest is history.
poem by Louis Rams

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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock

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The Dead Feast of the Kol-Folk
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have swept the floor,
We have boiled the rice.
Come hither, come hither!
Come from the far lands,
Come from the star lands,
Come as before!
We lived long together,
We loved one another;
Come back to our life.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Child, husband, and wife,
For you we are sighing.
Come take your old places,
Come look in our faces,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice
For the feast of souls.
Come hither, come hither!
Think not we fear you,
Whose hearts are so near you.
Come tenderly thought on,
Come all unforgotten,
Come from the shadow-lands,
From the dim meadow-lands
Where the pale grasses bend
Low to our sighing.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and friend,
The dead to the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door
You entered so oft;
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice soft.
Come you who are dearest
To us who are nearest,
Come hither, come hither,
From out the wild weather;
The storm clouds are flying,
The peepul is sighing;
Come in from the rain.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and lover,
Beneath our roof-cover.
Look on us again,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door!
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals
We may kindle no more!
Snake, fever, and famine,
The curse of the Brahmin,
The sun and the dew,
They burn us, they bite us,
They waste us and smite us;
Our days are but few
In strange lands far yonder
To wonder and wander
We hasten to you.
List then to our sighing,
While yet we are here
Nor seeing nor hearing,
We wait without fearing,
To feel you draw near.
O dead, to the dying
Come home!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Father Xmas Song
Father xmas
Will be working all night today
So that he can deliver all the christmas presents on time
To the children and their families
Father xmas
Is living his workshop now
In his reinder to deliver the Christmas presents
To all the houses here at home
Father christmas
Won't have any time to sleep at all
Because all the christmas gifts have to be delivered by christmas
And he has to follow the clause in his contract or otherwise he will get fired
And he could even make the children upset
Because there will be no presents to open at christmas
Father xmas
Goes down through the chimney
And then he comes out in the living room of the houses
Inside of the living room of the houses at christmas time
Father xmas will find the christmas tree decorated and lighted up
Father xmas
Eat his shortbread cookies and drink his glass of milk
poem by Aldo Kraas

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Father Xmas
Father xmas
Will be working all night today
So that he can deliver all the christmas presents on time
To the children and their families
Father xmas
Is living his workshop now
In his reinder to deliver the Christmas presents
To all the houses here at home
Father christmas
Won't have any time to sleep at all
Because all the christmas gifts have to be delivered by christmas
And he has to follow the clause in his contract or otherwise he will get fired
And he could even make the children upset
Because there will be no presents to open at christmas
Father xmas
Goes down through the chimney
And then he comes out in the living room of the houses
Inside of the living room of the houses at christmas time
Father xmas will find the christmas tree decorated and lighted up
Father xmas
Eat his shortbread cookies and drink his glass of milk
poem by Aldo Kraas

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I Walked Last Night In A District I Lived In For Almost Twenty Years
I WALKED LAST NIGHT IN A DISTRICT I LIVED IN FOR ALMOST TWENTY YEARS
I walked last night in a district I lived in for almost twenty years
I came back after being away for a time
To visit an old and ailing friend
The streets were empty and lonely as they often were then-
I thought for the first time I understood how lonely the district itself is-
‘A lonely district’
I wondered how I managed to live there all those years
And how anyone still manages to live there-
I looked up at the sky and wrote in my mind a small poem of a kind I wrote many of in my years there
I remembered teachers and friends who had lived there
No longer of this district or any district on earth
I wondered how life goes and how from so many years so much life has been lived without having any place in my memory
I felt as empty inside as the district without
I did not have to wait long for the bus
And relieved inside it I put my heart to home
So many years had been lived there
I remembered taking my small children to the playground there
Now they thank G-d have children of their own
Oh the years go by and the life we have lived in them largely dies
Forever to be unknown again-
I put my heart and mind in a different direction
And began to do what I always do – not think of the district again
Life is this mystery and question we live through and never wholly possess even as we are experiencing it
How long before all will be gone for me
Including the district I live in now?
poem by Shalom Freedman

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Play Children Play
I came home late one night,
In my door stood my daughter-in-law,
Park your car, I have something to tell you,
As I entered the door, she said, "Mother left today."
Play children play, your mother left today.
There is no where for a writer to start,
When his wife leaves and breaks her children's heart,
When she walked out, she never said good by,
No one has ever known why.
Play children play, today your Mother went away.
Many things we planned to do that day,
For no reason she just walked away,
Twenty years has past and gone,
Some how we took care of our home,
You children have married, but still alone.
Play children play, for the day your Mother went away.
poem by Kenneth McKinley Davis

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The Corner Stone (For Father's Day)
The father is the source of strength of his family.
He can weather storm in order to protect them.
He will endure rain or shine to provide his love ones.
He is always ready to give his support and guidance all the time.
The father is consistent for his duty and love for the family.
He can move mountains and shy away the temptation.
He gives himself fully to his family with love and devotion.
Children who have a father to guide them are blessed from heaven.
A husband is a gift for his wife and siblings.
The fathers may look tough in the outside yet so soft inside.
His happiness is to see his family well provided.
He sacrifices his own needs for the sake of his family.
Fathers may mean sometimes but his heart is bleeding for his child.
Fathers are the makers of what we become.
Fathers are always there to lend a helping hand.
Fathers sometimes misunderstood of his wisdom not knowing the meaning.
Fathers are gifted to be strong and stable, firm and durable as the homes foundation.
The father is the source of life itself as we become a family.
A home with out a father can not be a family at all.
A child is lucky who have a father's love and care.
A mother is blessed to have her partner and companion in life.
A house is not a home with out the foundation.
A family is blissful when love abounds.
God bless the fathers that honor his love for his family.
And for whom who remain faithful in their vows of love and devotion.
poem by Emelita C. Smith

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A Girl That I Met
I met her down streets one evening,
She was coming out of what she calls home,
Where she had left a family,
That is her responsibility,
To provide all the necessities.
She’s a mother and a father,
To the two younger girls at home,
For their parents had passed away,
About four years ago from the disease,
Then she should take care of the family.
There’s no uncles and aunts for them,
All they did was to sweep away everything,
Cars, estates, houses and everything,
Leaving the kids with concrete poverty,
And the children are now suffering.
I asked that orphaned girl how she managed,
To feed the family at her age under eighteen,
She started crying but she dared to tell me,
The story of her everyday life,
The story that keeps on torturing my mind.
She sells drugs down streets every day,
Then selling her body downtown every night,
Making sure she earns something,
To be back with at home for the family to survive,
Family needs shelter, food and clothes.
poem by Fadhy Mtanga

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As She Prayed [part 2]
Dear Father Up in Heaven
Watch over our soldiers who fight
For they are fighting for you Father
For the differince in wrong and right
Protect them dear Father
And mend their scars and hearts
For they are far from home dear Father
And their families are torn in parts
Watch over their families, dear Father
Keep those children from all harm
For it's the children who suffer, Father
When they fall under satins evil charm
We'll try and watch for satin dear Father
So our hearts won't let him in
And try our best, dear Father
To shun away from his sibn
I pray for the women, dear Father
Raising their kids all a lone
never knowing, dear Father
If their husbands will make it home
This prayer I pray to you, dear Father
It's this prayer I shall pray again
Until the wars are all over
And there is love among all men
8/13/2009 by Norman Hale Jr.
poem by Norman Hale

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The Angel
When my love and I decided to marry
she mentioned something new.
She told me she had seen an angel
more than a time or two.
I didn’t want to challenge her beliefs
even though I certainly did,
so I said perhaps it was her guardian angel
who would protect her while she lived.
She said the first time that she saw him
was when she died at the age of four.
She was in hospital suffering from pneumonia
and had knocked on heavens door.
As the medical team revived her,
the angel left with a smile and wave,
and she didn’t see him again until
the funeral at her mother’s grave.
The next time she mentioned him
was on our wedding day.
He was hovering above the aisle,
as her father gave her away.
He was there when our children were born
and present when her father died.
I told her he was a figment of her imagination,
just an illusion from her mind’s eye.
I asked her to explain his presence,
and what good did he do.
She said that he brought her comfort
and some meaning to her life too.
Today I saw two beautiful angels
at the graveside of my wife.
One of them was carved in stone,
and the other gleamed with life.
poem by Orlando Belo

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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen

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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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Fade Away
When I was young
I thought I had my own key
I knew exactly what I wanted to be
Now I'm sure
You've boarded up every door
Lived in a bubble
Days were never ending
Was not concerned
About what life was sending
Fantasy was real
Now I know much
About the way I feel
I'll paint you the picture
'Cause I don't think you live round here no more
I've never even seen
The key to the door
We only get what we will settle for
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
While we're living
The dreams we have as children
Fade away
song performed by by Oasis from The Masterplan

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts of Home
I watched them from the window, thy children at their play,
And I thought of all my own dear friends, who were far, oh, far away,
And childish loves, and childish cares, and a child’s own buoyant gladness
Came gushing back again to me with a soft and solemn sadness;
And feelings frozen up full long, and thoughts of long ago,
Seemed to be thawing at my heart with a warm and sudden flow.
I looked upon thy children, and I thought of all and each,
Of my brother and my sister, and our rambles on the beach,
Of my mother’s gentle voice, and my mother’s beckoning hand,
And all the tales she used to tell of the far, far English land;
And the happy, happy evening hours, when I sat on my father’s knee,
Oh! many a wave is rolling now betwixt that seat and me!
And many a day has passed away since, I left them o’er the sea,
And I have lived a life since then of boyhood’s thoughtless glee;
Yet of the blessed times gone by not seldom would I dream,
And childhood’s joy, like faint far stars, in memory’s heaven would gleam,
And o’er the sea to those I loved my thoughts would often roam,
But never knew I until now the blessings of a home!
I used to think when I was there that my own true home was here,
But home is not in land or sky, but in those whom each holds dear.
The evening’s cooling breeze is fanning my temples now,
But then my frame was languid, and heated was my brow,
And I longed for England’s cool, and for England’s breezes then,
But now I would give full many a breeze to be back in the heat again.
But when cold strange looks without, and proud high thoughts within,
Are weaving round my heart the woof of selfishness and sin;
When self begins to roll a far, a worse and wider sea
Of careless and unloving thoughts between those friends and me,
I will think upon these moments, and call to mind the day
When I watched them from the window, thy children at their play.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Close Another Door
Many years have passed, it seems,
And I am all alone.
Ive sent the children far away
To some obscure unknown.
(chorus)
Its so sad,
So sad.
Close another door.
Listen to my eyes.
Close another door.
Youre much too old to work,
So wont you run away?
I was young, I used to say
That age wont bother me.
The life I had was very sad,
It all went out to sea
(repeat chorus)
Though the sun is in outside,
The rain is in my hair.
Now my life is lived inside,
My home is in my chair.
(repeat chorus)
(slower...repeat...fade)
Let me go.
Send me flowers and
Put me on a plane.
Ive paid before,
So Ive been told
At least Im alive
song performed by by Bee Gees

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tears that I cry are not yours
I am not your friend who tried
to kill you last night
I am not you friend who mustanize
and try to get intimacy
I am not your friend who killed you
your father, then came back home with a gun on my face
I am not your friend
who is your friend
then your friend
what is a friend
when you have a friend
then a friend who is my friend
when I have a friend
The tears that I cry are not yours
I have never had a friend
like my mother
I have never had a friend
like my father
I have never had a friend
like my brother
my sister, she hates me
as much as I hate her
The tears that I cry are not yours
who is she to take off
her clothes in the middle of
the street and say the door will
be closed in the next fifteen minutes round
The tears that I cry are not yours
‘she my mother, my mother who cries
every time she thinks of
me’
you are my sister
but you were my sister
when my sister was born
The tears that I cry are not yours
every time I see her
I am happy
for she knows what it means to…
‘she used to come home to me
and say poy I have something for you to eat
don’t tell anyone
The tears that I cry are not yours’
poem by Amos Motlanthe

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Do You Love Your Children
Father do you love your children
I heard you do
But father will you help your children
We need you to
It could be worse I know its true
But only if we plan
La la la lady mary... its time to show your hand
La la la lady mary... and make a few demands
Children do you hope that someone
Is watching you
But do you feel the need for someone
I know I do
I think about it constantly
We really arent that wise
La la la lady mary... open up our eyes
La la la lady mary... and make us realize
First I have a question
(do you love us)
I would like to know
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Yes we really need to know
(do you love us)
I think the time has come for you to show
(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)
Mother, do you love your children
I know you do
But mother do you know your children
Will poison you
The answer does not seem too clear
We look so hard ourselves
La la la lady mary... put your books back on the shelf
La la la lady mary... and save us from ourselves
First I have a question
(do you love us)
I would like to know
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Do you love your children
(do you love us)
Yes we really need to know
(do you love us)
I think the time has come for you to show
(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)(do you love us)
(do you love us) (do you love us)
(do you love us)
song performed by by Rick Springfield

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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