En.Citatepedia^®.ro

And Her Going Away That Never Comes?

Newly wed bride goes out
Hand in hand with her bridegroom
and the sinful lass who sweats to the manor
since her childhood,
She had a tear in her heart
and she knows her sad fate
That she has to serve them forever
and her going away that never comes
till she gets old?
She thinks of her poor mother & father
Once she served to this manor
Now rest in peace in a faraway tombless graveyard
and the brave father was missing in a rage battlefield?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Childhood Play

I was struggling with my pant,
And a candy in my hand.
My mother ran behind,
As my father acted blind.
It was a childhood play which I now recall,
But it soon ended as I suddenly fall.

As I fall I faced towards the ground,
And when I was up I left something down.
One form my only three front teeth it was.
And what can I tell you how horrified I was.

I was crying with my best,
And my siblings got some rest.
They all laughed when they saw my face,
And for me it was end of days.

I was bleeding with a pain
Mother looked pale and stained.
She hugged and kissed me all around,
And it was a glass of water that my father found.
To make me feel happy he called me ‘Brave’,
As I still had that candy in one of my hand.

poem by Abhishek Pandey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lochinvar

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; --
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide --
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, --
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a gailiard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Ladylike man in Monogyny

He drowned in a proposal marriage.
They were from opposite poles.
Happily hunting ground they do hanky-panky.
Bridegroom thinks of his former lovelorn lass
And the bride dreams of her brave archer.
They live forever under a one roof
Like obedient husband and wife.
After the litigation who will have the last laugh?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sunday Father

Hand in his hand though the park
All afternoon
A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story
Hand in his hand to wonder
Till day is done
Sunday father and son
Sundays are theres to explore
Alone by law
One day to keep the two from turning to strangers
One day to know the answers
Be firm , be fun
Sunday father and son
The father weaves though the weekend streets
Sunday done, monday comin' on
He leaves the child by a modest home
That they share no more
With the woman who waits indoors
Till she knows he's gone
Where are the words or the games
A place to go
Someway to let him know you want to be with him
Somehow it's always ending
Just half begun
Sunday father and son
Sunday father and son

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

My Other Hand...

the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2)

When I think of all the things you GAVE me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
The list goes endless and I fail to count what you gave to me;
With your heart, your mind, your energy and your soul of fame!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

You burnt yourself like a CANDLE to give me light....
Your deeds are never dull; your love is never pale;
I count endless things you, an endless tale
All these you spent on me throughout the years.
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

Now I am in foreign land tormented like an alien, I'm hurt!
I am sad yet I remember Rudyard Kipling's poem, 'If' –
There a father suggest 180 things to his son; What if?
I am not with you; yet your advices ring in heart!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

I cherish our relationship forever and a day,
Till earth exists and sun sparkles in every way,
Till Stars twinkle and moon delights I carry your name,
Till death may do us apart yet I carry all the same
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

We are separated by boundaries narrow.....
Yet in my memories, I'm with as your shadow;
I may carry your fortunes for while.....
Yet I carry your hope for a mile;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done! ................................................. .......................
A BIG NOTICE BOARD:
*Your attention please: Just take a break! Now READ part 1 to make your reading wholesome. PART 2 of the poem
Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)

poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

How Mother Made Us A Home

our navels were cut
and they were tied
on one of the strong
walls of this house
where we were born
and since then
mother takes pride
about our missing
a home that where
ever we are scattered
by fate we always come
back and feel and fill
what is missing inside
us.This is home.
This is where mother
died and father too
and the rest of us
shall also be buried
here when we finally
die. This is country.
This is life and
This is death. This
is our meaning and
This is where we shall
always be forever.

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

Father's Son

Sheryl Crow & Jay Oliver---
Strange imaginations, children hide your secrets well
Is it not temptation, makes you kiss and makes you tell?
There's a traveler on the airwaves, and he's pleading for my heart
Light up all the candles, I'm 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 I'm still holding onto letters written straight to you
[Chorus]
Oh, won't you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that you're 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 forever's just a word
"And I will be coming back for you" is all I heard [Chorus]
Please don't forget me, father sun, father sun
I think I hear him whispering
"Put your hand in my hand and you won't feel a thing"
[Chorus]
Oh won't you save me, father sun, father sun
I need to tell you that my life is on the run
And now you know that you're the only one
Oh won't you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh won't you save me, father sun, father sun
Oh won't 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!

The Death-Day Of Korner

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!

He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.

And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.

He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.

And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.

And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!

A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Remembering Childhood

by accident you come across
an old picture
you recognize the face of your father
beside your mother
with his gun on the side of his body
as reservist of the army
you look closely
your mother pouts
and she is holding on to her
white skirt
you father's right hand grips
his gun
while the left holds on to
the chair just behind your
mother's neck

there is a baby being held
by your mother
it is sleeping and it looks
like you

your father does not like
you and you know it from the very start
you know how to pretend
till he died

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

Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)

At schooltime, my father left me at house gringo!
Yet I Kept my tender heart at home of lingo!
When I quested, for fate “he is right as rain.”
Tender tears exploded like MISSILES yet in vein;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

While I missed mother’s love and father’s stories
All the night I stood without sleep with many worries
I asked the god, why two legs and hands!
Why not two bodies and two souls for errands!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

Sugarcane Juice, peanuts and berries!
Our green fields, summer holidays and holy tours!
When thousand memories flashes in mind, now,
How much I miss mom's care! How much I miss dad’s love!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

The small buns you bought for me still smell good,
The grapes brought, coming from city is still my favorite food;
The fruits you brought me with roots; are they heaven sent?
Yet I didn’t pay any rent pay as you are my parent!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

Do you know who my MAHATMA is? Oh, my brother!
He is not Mandela, nor Gandhi but my father
Who taught me A to Z rather?
What to do and what not to do, I gather!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!

When I think of all the things you gave to me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
............................................. ................................................. .....
*A big NOTICE BOARD: Oops! Sorry the poem is NOT completed. This is just break time! Now continue Your reading in part 2 the poem.

Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2) contin'd in part 2.. Read it.

poem by Harindhar Reddy
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!

My Parents

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you

I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you

Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM

Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you

poem by Abderaouf Laoud
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Watching her baby sleeps

I am not qualified to peep into your mild dreams
Even to your lonely Mom's frustrated World.
She waits anxiously for your missing father's arrival
From the rage battlefield.
Your precious smile with Angels
And no wars there.
I think of my old cradle poor mom swung
And once I too dreamed the same Angels like you.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I love my father

My father
Is my friend...
In childhood...
I love my father

More and more...
I am a yelder son
For my father...
I asking toys...

I asking sweets...
More and more
At my father....
My father tell

About the stores
At god...
And ramayana...
And mahabarath...

I was enjoy
My father tell story...
Enjoy enjoy...
Today my father

Live my heart only
At my heart...
My father not pass away

He was leave my home
At sumall photo pream
But...
my father leave with my

Sence and thinking...
I love my father...!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Father, The Son And The Gun

The sky was burning by the window pane
And a shadow lurked proceeding to the woods
And a little boy behind the frame
Stood monitoring the steps of his father's boots

A possessed shot gun in his father's hand
And stepped out close before his eyes
Before a bird could realize its dream
A shot was fired in the sky

Down the bird fell rustling the leaves
Stooping through the trees till it met the ground
And the father he walks into the green
Towards the loud thud of the sound

And the boy he ask "mother why is it
That father he carries a gun around with him
And shoots out at the cloudless open sky
And murders and ends a voice that sings"

"It's alright dear, there's no need to worry
Your father is a brave man and you must learn
He is not a murderer for killing a bird
Come on you silly, there's no harm in it son"

And the boy inquires his father "father why it is
That you shoot a bird without distress
Don't your hands tremble, father?
Don't you think twice before your finger press? "

"My boy can't you see, its bloody destiny
That brought the chirping birds to a still
I gave it many a chance to run and hide
But it kept appearing ‘fore me to kill"

And so the boy takes the shotgun from his hands
And says run father run, and you better hide
The father laughs with a big cigar in his hand
A shot was fired, a BANG! ! echoes in the night

poem by Dipti Gurung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Son Reaches For His Father's Hand

A Son Reaches For His Father's Hand

As they walk,
A son reaches
for his father's hand,
barely able to brush his fingertips.
Only sometime later,
the father wraps his fingers
around his son's
fallen hand.

The son looks into his father's eyes.
The father looks down,
a tear is heard
as it falls onto the clay soil.

The son tries hard
to move his legs fast,
to follow each of his father's strides.
The father looks down,
finally he adjusts his gait.
His son relieved,
breathes normally once more,
as he gratefully finds his pace.

At the woods' edge
the father chooses the path to the left.
Soon they are out of sight.

They see tall trees, fallen trees, rocks, mushrooms,
one beaver, two fawns,
three ponds with frogs and the like.
The son feels both excited and at peace
as they start on one of the trails back.
But this time the son gets to choose,
left or right.

During the entire walk
through serenity,
neither spoke.

They came to the grassland,
no longer just father and son,
as they had begun.
They returned
forever
spliced into one.

A simple walk in the woods,
by themselves in nature's blessed bosom,
can quitely re-compose
the fragmenting noises of daily life
into a largo of deepening love.

A moment of simplicity
with one of our own,
can dissove life's duplicity-
denying the frenetic pursuit
of the transient.
The sowing of seeds of love and loyalty,
in the most fragile, fertile of grounds,
creates children as Nature's true royalty.
It is their blessed spirits
which rest softly
on the breast of Mother Nature.

The years elapse, the child
now a father, takes his daughter
for a walk in the woods.
Her age, about the same
as his back then.
He asks her which way she would
like to go.
She points to the right.

Moments pass,
soon they are part of the woods.
The father reaches down,
embraces her tiny hand.
She squeezes, then sort of kneeds his.

They see into each others' eyes.
She and he reach for each other.
He lifts her to his chest
as she wraps her arms
tightly around his neck.

The sparrows, look down,
then turning skyward, sing smiling.
The surrounding peacefulness
whispers itself
into father and daughter,
each of them forever together,
with mitered hearts.

Mike August 04/12/2009

poem by Mike August
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Stepmother (for Edgar Andrade Baguio)

When my stepmother first came, her eyes were sharp and bright as little
knives. Her youth and my childhood ran into each other - she was the victor.
Although my father was still alive, I felt orphaned, depressed and alone,
crying by myself, grew up alone. In the first year of peace, everyone drifted.
My father went out - returned with gray hair. I have my father to compensate
me for the loss of my childhood. Sometimes vague envy found father sitting
in silent expectation...

A decade goes by. My stepmother is still as beautiful as at first, though older.
She returns to ask my father to forgive her mistake: My half sister has
another half sister. My heart was no longer jealous - I only felt sorry for my
half sister, who was really too young... I hoped she would not find herself
once more on a tipping wagon. My father died, rain poured down in the
courtyard. My tears gleaned some contentment: Mother and father together
now, forever.

After that she aged quickly, solitary, silent as a shadow, her eyes no longer
sharp as knives. When my son entered the world, she was the first to carry
him, she who changed him the first time, placed him in the gently rocking
hammock. My half-sister asked her mother, only half-joking, Will you favor
my first child this way? Lullabies contain no riddles and tears run down
forever. My stepmothers silent eyes smiled brightly when my son threw
himself into her arms: 'Grandma! '

- Thanh Nguyen's narrative poetry

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

Father.....

Father, Listen,
Did life not turn out as you had planned?
The grass not greener, Your rivers dammed?
How was it, that you wound up here?
Moved by hate, Consumed by fear.

Father, Listen,
As I go grey, I wonder will I die this way?
A life of waste, To dwell on rage,
You won't find peace, at your old age!

Father, Listen,
I feared you as a child,
Your unkind temper, It made me wild,
I know my Mother is hard to please,
This sad existence, Now my disease.

Father, Listen,
For just once to me,
The apple, It does, Fall close to tree,
I dead the things that I have learnt,
My wells now dry, My bridges, Burnt.

Father, Listen,
Just come and see,
Just how much I am like thee,
I think I'll rest, Just for a while,
For just one more hour, In denial.

poem by H.J. Shreeve
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Take my hand, mother, to see your childhood as it lives in me, and you, father, take me by the other hand to see the snow child.

Camelia Oprița in The word opens the human mind - Saint Nicholas Publishing House
Submitted by Alexander
Vote! | Copy!