My maternal Grandpa
His name is Richard, though it's an English name
He's not an Englishman.
But a good sportsman, my kinsman.
He does upholstery and when he sew brass eyelets to the canvas
Oh! What a Master craftsman?
And from his blue transparent eyes I saw the patchy World.
After my father's tragic death he took the whole responsibility of our family.
He is an asthmatic patient but never grumbled.
Thank you so much, I tasted the cigarettes, your throwing butts
and sipped your cheap liquor stealthily.
He wants me to teach how to darn the patchy life until he died
Sorry, I learned a very little and still I repent.
But I salute you my great Grandpa!
As you are the far sighted Captain of my fragile soul-ship.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
we salute you, Appa @ Daddy.
The sweetest fruit that I have ever eaten,
The choicest food that I have ever tasted,
The pleasant soup that I have ever sipped,
The rough hand that fed. That was yours, Appa.
Dipped the jack fruit in honey,
Took the smallest piece that could fit my young mouth,
Fed me and asked how the taste was,
Father, nothing is sweeter than your love.
As the child is the father of a man, Daddies! !
You have struggled as someone, somewhere,
A few of you may be comfortable,
The rest of you all suffer in silence,
Does the responsibility silence you all?
You are there when we need you,
You are there to keep the unity of the family,
You are there in every stage of our life,
What shall we do, except, follow your principles.
Nothing equals you and we salute you.
You are all the pillars of culture,
Protector of old and young,
King of our hearts.
A few of you have been tricked to be deviant, but
Most of you have kept the welfare of your family,
Not only in mind, but in your breath,
You are the reason, we are comfortable today.
Thank you Daddy..
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Needlewoman
I see the fading light of my neighboring Seamstress's room.
The poor widow does embroidery of the mysterious life pattern.
I too have some darn work of my patchy clothes
And I want to borrow a needle and a thread from you.
Is it too late if I knock at your door in the midnight?
And I am sure the evildoers definitely chatter a gossip
When a bachelor meets a widow.
* I dedicate this poem to all the widows of this oblique world.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(Father poems) In the name of the father
His father
Is a deranged drug addict
Who refuses to listen to the experts
The junkie just won't kick the habit
And the son is a teen drug peddler who
Who sells drugs at school
His father is an alcoholic
The unrepentant drug dealer has sold
His soul to the devil and liquor
The drunkard has a master's degree
In alcohols abuse and he can teach
The suicidal to misuse liquor and
Pay the price with their own lives
His wife abuser of a father assaults
His mother routinely in front of his
Own children party as a chore but mainly
To prove what's meant by it's a man's world
And the boy watches with baleful admiration
Thus is born a girl hater and a serial rapist
His father is maniacal tiger at home and
A coward of a bleating harmless lamb
In the streets who pays protection fee
To the gangsters who fear no wife beater
And the son grows up in the name of the father
He himself becomes a deluded drug dealer
And loony of a wife abuser
His own son too will grow up and continue
The family trade of drug abuse and wife
Battering and the grandson too and the great
Grandson...you see it runs through the family
poem by Ngaka Motaung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You're The Captain
I'd crawl a mile,
I'd climb the highest hill.
To bring you back to
A life that's real
You burned your mind out,
With your foolish games
May you lie there helpless,
Will you ever be the same.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
I've traveled this world,
I've seen most of it.
I've seen the best ones
Go down with the ship.
Fortune and fame,
They don't mean a thing.
When you're hooked on junk,
That's your only game.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
Just a part of life,
That we all must go through.
Gettin' high with friends,
Was all in being cool.
Hope you never see, this misery.
A prisoner by drugs
With no right to be free.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
You're the captain,
The leader of your ship.
Don't get captured (captured),
Cause you just might never quit.
You're the captain,
I hope you realize,
Don't be a fool,
Better open up your eyes.
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Fragile (demo 1998)
Four o'clock in the morning
I close my eyes and consider you
Is this some kind of warning
To let me know you're just passing through my life?
It's a good place to be
For someone like you to take solace in me
This is my fragile reality
For someone as eager as you
Can break me in threes
And break through my needs
To get to the dirt
You learned how to hurt... me
Six o'clock in the evening
I brush my hair and will you to know
Is this some kind of teasing?
And are you prepared to be half as true as you try,
As you try hard to be?
Someone so cautious and careful and free
And why are you waiting for me?
You're steady and stable and able to be close to me
I'm strapped to my seat
The tables have turned
You know how they burn right through me
Why do you wrestle with my right to be different from you?
Why do you settle for me if it's not what you wanted to do?
I'm fragile too
I'm fragile too
I'm fragile too
Only with you
Four o'clock in the morning
I hold your head and take care of you
Are these symptoms of touring?
Did someone you love leave you black and blue?
Sometime, somewhere I'll never be
Aware of misfortunes and torture and grief
This life is a good place to be
For someone as fragile as you
I'm fragile too
I'm fragile too
I'm fragile too
But only with you
Only with you
I'm fragile too
But only with you
Only with you
I'm fragile too
But only with you
I'm fragile too (7x)
But only with you
Only with you
I'm fragile too
But only with you.
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Oh, My Captain
Oh, my Captain, my Captain
Where is that gleam in your eye?
Where is that sting
Whenever your colors fly?
Where is that thirst
for adventure you sail?
Where is that booming voice
Through oak will drive nail?
Oh, my Captain
Where could you be?
Thy gaze crosses
more than the sea
Where is the man
Who knows not any fears?
Who's cheated death
All these long years
Come Captain,
Where is thy cheer?
We sail into eternity
The rest is unclear
Oh Captain, oh Captain
Why such a sad soul?
It's treasure and loot
So much we have stole
Oh, master, my master
We are, and can no more be
Like the birds,
We are free as long as we breathe
Come Captain, my Captain
Give us command
Give 'weigh all the anchors'
Seek ye new harbors with warm golden sand
to Captain Cur
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Woman in Patchwork
The patchy life goes together
with her monotonous career.
He roams around in the vicinity of her district.
A destitute man of letters who is searching his old publisher friend.
Both souls are mending their decaying lives
and accidentally the fate granted them to know each other.
He wants to darn his trouser
and replace few missing buttons.
She stitched for him and it's free of charge.
He gave her a surety to be her partner forever.
The destiny is almost ahead unpredictable.
By the way this will be the stranger's roost.
How beautiful if it goes on a pleasure journey
with a happy ending like ' once upon a time' story?
To the poetess Patricia.Gale
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time has shown how the boisterous life runs from bad to worse
What a tragic accident the human history faced?
Forefathers abandon their fruitful cultivation and the new generation too not so eager to hold the bare lands.
A tree grows silently and gives the shade
But they cut the branches and make swords & shields.
Human create the war, injustice, oppression and suffering.
But the time has shown them the hideous life runs from bad to worse.
* St.Patrick's day, I got a deep breath into my patchy lungs while thinking of the fraud which plays in the mischievous life.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Our Father
We all can paint on a canvas,
Whether it be great or small.
What we do is a masterpiece,
To our Father who loves it all.
If we believe our work is not good,
Then our mind is going to the Fall.
But we can be changed,
Through our Father who loves us all.
That change cannot be done alone,
For help, to our Father we must all.
Trying to explain the truth is hard,
But not to our Father who knows it all.
We are all part of His canvas,
We may not see it, but we are very tall.
We are the greatest buried treasure
For our Father who gets us all.
poem by Stephanie Varnadore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fairy's Gift
The Fays that to my christ'ning came
(For come they did, my nurses taught me),
They did not bring me wealth or fame,
'Tis very little that they brought me.
But one, the crossest of the crew,
The ugly old one, uninvited,
Said, 'I shall be avenged on YOU,
My child; you shall grow up short-sighted!'
With magic juices did she lave
Mine eyes, and wrought her wicked pleasure.
Well, of all gifts the Fairies gave,
HERS is the present that I treasure!
The bore whom others fear and flee,
I do not fear, I do not flee him;
I pass him calm as calm can be;
I do not cut--I do not see him!
And with my feeble eyes and dim,
Where YOU see patchy fields and fences,
For me the mists of Turner swim -
MY 'azure distance' soon commences!
Nay, as I blink about the streets
Of this befogged and miry city,
Why, almost every girl one meets
Seems preternaturally pretty!
'Try spectacles,' one's friends intone;
'You'll see the world correctly through them.'
But I have visions of my own,
And not for worlds would I undo them.
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Tribute To My Revered Father
My Father was a great teacher,
Good husband to my good Mother;
He taught his pupils very well;
In an old house, did he dwell.
Well he reared his children seven!
Lived for up to eight times ten;
His forehead sweat fell on the soil;
My Father so well, did he toil.
A man who possessed great talents;
And honesty par excellence;
Cheap Politics did he eschew;
This world hath seen but very few.
He lived in humble conditions;
A law-abiding citizen;
He gave us good education;
And raised us well in religion.
He’as born and bred in piety;
And rose in popularity;
A logic-man, Philosopher;
None could him well decipher.
A versatile man, Orator;
He tried to make a new order;
Oppressed, he died with plenty peace;
Yet in god, he lived in ease.
His learning to him was his wealth!
Together with his body’s health;
And she was great too, my Mother;
Who well-supported my Father.
A human ‘immortal’-being!
With yeoman-service worth seeing;
He loved the poor and downtrodden;
That fetched him place sure in Heaven.
But one day when he died, I cried!
By Heaven’s words, he did abide;
God-fearing, undaunted, he left;
For his great soul, a lot I wept.
I see him as a bright new Star!
In the night-Sky clearly, afar;
Oh what a great man Father was!
Truthfulness was his greatest cause.
Fondly dedicated in loving memory of my beloved father
Shri. A.T.Antoniswami M.A., L.T., Coimbatore
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Good Ship Capitilism
The cry's of the poor rise up from the sea of oppression
And still the waves grow higher
The ship sails relentlessly on into the golden horizon
And now the sea is on fire
Wont you turn the ship around they cry
And the sharks draw near
This ship's to big to turn around
And the golden horizon would surely disappear
Ah, how great its been since we threw those
people overboard
So much more for you and I, and yours and mine
So much more for us to hoard
It was all ours anyway, those people
did nothing for what they had
Oh look, the sharks are starting to devour
Ah well thats just to bad
They should have learned to swim faster and stronger,
who do they think they were anyway
living here amongst us for nothing
without even as much as paying there way
Everything we have on this boat is ours
we didn't go to all that trouble just to give it away
Those who are left, if they work even harder
Its just possible we might let them stay
It has been reported to us that we
don't have as much as we might
What! post a lookout immediately
and see if those overboard are still in sight
Captain, they've been sighted
but are caught in a storm
Yes yes yes never mind all that, man the boats
where else are we going to get even more from
Ahoy there you poor and afflicted ones
would you like to come into our boats
Come on, give it all up, don't hold back
yes we will even take your coats
And the ship sailed on and the small boats screamed
Oh my God, don't leave us here in the sea
The afflicted ones will overcome us
And in the sea WE will be
Be quiet, do you think you could stay on this ship
and sail on forever free.
This ship's not about you or yours
This ship's about ME, ME, ME!
Sign on today for the good ship Capitalism
Get your tickets from Romney and Paul Ryan
But if you become sick there'll be no room for you
We throw overboard the sick and the dying
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
R.I.P. Dear Dad
It was this day, my father died,
A score and three years back;
One early morn, while he lay ill,
And children were around.
He had double pneumonia:
With diabetes too;
We could not do much about it,
With three children, doctors.
The sudden death anguished us all,
But he was pretty old;
The way he reared us still remains
A puzzle unraveled!
From humble beginnings, he rose
To be a learned man;
He taught and spoke in unmatched style
That put the world dumbfound!
A man of principles so good,
You hardly can find one;
God was his friend, despite all strife;
He kept his simple ways!
The love and care he showed were great;
He was so erudite;
His piety lit up his face
In everything he did!
Oh, what a father great, we lost -
A void that none could fill;
His life and work evergreen stays
In hearts of all children.
Our home is dark without this light,
Which is a star in sky;
He goads us all to follow him,
And reach celestial heights!
O God, we plead and cry and pray,
‘May his soul rest in peace';
He earned his heaven, while on earth,
A righteous soul did cease!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Captain Of Your Soul
Are you captain of your soul
that lives with you and makes you whole?
Or are there mutineers tearing at you,
attacking you so your soul can't get through?
If you steer your ship with your soul at the wheel
all of your voyages will keep an even keel.
You will not falter during stormy seas.
For your soul will keep your ship at ease.
It will guide you safely to distant shores.
It will keep you dry whenever rain pours.
For as the captain of your soul you'll find
you will leave the fierce winds all behind.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We felt that although they were patchy, there was a tremendous political energy in the Henry plays.
quote by Edward Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Canvas
I painted all my life...
just to be praised by the world.
Till you came - like the heat of the flame,
you stayed with me to hold.
My brush had a little more strength,
when i saw your heavenly smile.
Oh, how i wanted to steal those moments away...
and paint them all for awhile.
My heart had a little more art...
when I saw your gracious curves.
Oh, how i wanted to immortalize your eyes,
that speaks to me like a dove.
But the world still kept his praises away...
till i almost gave it up.
But then you gave me courage
and you always filled me up.
And then the world took you away from me-
till my soul has slowly died.
I stole your memories away...
and painted you by night.
Oh, how your eyes reflect the things
I never saw before.
How I can see my very soul
just by looking there for more.
Oh, how your smiles revived my heart...
but filled my heart with tears;
How perfect they were on my canvas,
how they hideth all my fears.
And then the world gave me the praise
I wanted so before...
He gave to me my past prayers
just after he took you so.
If I could only tell the world
how mean he was to me...
and curse the stars, and curse the moons...
and heavens constantly.
I felt like painting all my life
just to end up painting you.
Giving you life on my canvas...
stealing you from death by my brush.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer In Time Of War
Now Death is near, and very near,
In this wild whirl of horror and fear,
When round the vessel of our State
Roll the great mountain waves of hate.
God! We have but one prayer to-day -
O Father, teach us how to pray.
For prayer is strong, and very strong;
But we have turned from Thee so long
To follow gods that have no power
Save in the safe and sordid hour,
That to Thy feet we have lost the way . . .
O Father, teach us how to pray.
We have done ill, and very ill,
Set up our will against Thy will.
That our soft lives might gorge, full-fed,
We stole our brothers' daily bread.
Lord, we are sorry we went astray -
O Father, teach us how to pray.
Now in this hour of desperate strife
For England's life, her very life,
Teach us to pray that life may be
A new life, beautiful to Thee,
And in Thy hands that life to lay.
O Father, teach us how to pray.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death of a family
Drinking and fighting.
Fighting and drinking.
When does it ever end?
What ever happened to the word 'Family'?
Does it exist any more?
Mother against daughter.
Daughter against Mother.
How can you hate your own blood?
When the Matriarch of our
family died, the beautiful rug
that was our family unraveled with
her. Now, I feel as if the family
rug has unraveled down to me.
I am now left to mourn the tragic
death of my great grandmother and
my family. Is there anybody out
there who can save me from this
ocean of despair?
poem by Jamal Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!