Paper boat
Hunger has risen up to the sky.
Is your boat seaworthy?
I am scared my son will it be capsized on the way?
Your loving father's boat is a massive one.
I cannot listen to these scaremongers gossiping.
They are very superstitious of your father
And state that he lives in a remote island with a family.
Is it possible my son to bring your nuisance father back safely in your paper boat?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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Boat To Sail
Youre up state, up late, and city fed
Im a california label
From the top of my head,
Forever, ah
See a lot of open sky
When the sun goes down
Theres a hot, lot of loving when you come
Around, to free me, ah
In a boat to sail, boat to sail, away, ah
All those letters mailed from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
Bare foot, coconut and supermild
Jamaica take a look
At your own child
Forget not
Brian wilson songs are never left behind
Dont you worry baby, youre a friend of mine
For so long
From a boat to sail, boat to sail, away ah
All those letters mailed, from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
We are riding in a boat to sail
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Father
Father oh father
Hear me if you can
Is it true what they say
That life is a dream
I dont understand
The things that make rain in my eyes
Are they real or are they lies
You know I hear so much about you now
Id give anything
To go on a little boat with you
Talk about the scheme of things
On a little boat with you
Father oh father
Guide me if you can
Or give me the chance to follow you home
I am your son but I wish I knew you
When you were young
Were you lonely as a boy
You know Id give so much to see you now
Id go anywhere
Pick a little stick and walk with you
Talk about the scheme of things
On a short walk with you
Father oh father
You give me just a little hope
I feel something out there reaching for me
Well here I am
Wont you take me with you
Out of this maze
And away from this place
Because it gets so cold and lonely here
Ill do anything
To sit on a little rock with you
Talk about the scheme of things
On a small rock with you
Show me show me show me the way
Before they grind me down
And bleach me grey
Send me power not to be afraid
And when I close my eyes
Let me see you once in the light
Father oh father
Heal me if you can
Is it true what they say
That life is a dream
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Boat and The Sea
I will tell you, my Dear
Story of the Boat and the Sea
'Since the unknown time
The Boat heard the call from the Sea
Wings of Gull, blue waves
Took Boat traveled everywhere, all ways
The Boat's soul's filled with hopes
And the Sea's boundless love
Boat went far, further no tiresome
The Sea was still far...so far
Those nights the moon was gentle
The sea was like a girl, who's little
She whispered, she sent her thoughts
Round the boatside, waves elapsed
Sometimes, causeless
The Sea, its waves, pourred impetuously in the Boat
(Because of Love, for all times, ever was just imovable?)
Only the Boat understood
How boundless the Sea was
Only the Boat knew
Where the Boat went to, back to
The days without meeting
The sea was with white head, with missing
The days without gathering
The Boat was broken - crack
If already seperated from the Boat
The Sea only remained the wind and waves
...up and down, a craze'
If having to be separated from you
I just only remain storms
(composer: Xuân Quỳ nh, traslator: Hanh My Nguyen)
poem by Hanh My Nguyen
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In Prayer to You
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.
In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.
And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Biggest Flood
The Biggest Flood
Pakistan, the biggest flood ever recorded the newscaster tells me,
has he forgotten about the biblical flood and Noah?
I could be that after years of flooding in Noahland that he got
the idea of building a boat, big enough for his family and cattle.
Of course his neighbours thought he had lost it, his sons too were
skeptical but helped their father building a wide hulled boat;
in the inn at night they often got into fist fights, when funny
remarks were made about their father’s crazy venture.
After weeks of rain he boarded and boat and it didn’t sink.
When the rain stopped and the sky was clear all Noah could see
was water everywhere. Not a navigator Noah just drifted about
hoping to find land; and as water level fell he hit a reef which
turned out to be a grassy mountain slope. The biblical story is
certainly true, if it isn’t it is still worth thinking about its wisdom.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Mercy
I got so much to say but I'm afraid it'll come out wrong, I'm not
akin to the Eighties thing where you look after number one.
But I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm one of the millions, who never seem to
do anything. (He never seems to do anything.) I never seem to do
anything. (He never seems to do anything.)
And everytime I get the urge to strike out on my own, insecurity
wraps me up, it's cold outside the fold.
So I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm the man who merely threatens, who's
always saying what he's gonna do. (He's always saying what he's gonna
do.) I'm always saying what I'm gonna do. (He's always saying what
he's gonna do.)
I'm running steady, oh so steady, so safe and sound I could drown.
I've had my fill of living in my cosy armchair land, but all my
schemes come to a humiliating end.
So I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm one of the millions, who's always
saying what he's gonna do. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.)
I'm always saying what I'm gonna do. (He's always saying what he's
gonna do.)
No I won't rock no boats. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.)
Kiss goodbye to my hopes. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.) I
won't rock no boats. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.) Life
is easy when you're being kept afloat. I won't rock no boats
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Universe
I got so much to say but I'm afraid it'll come out wrong, I'm not
akin to the Eighties thing where you look after number one.
But I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm one of the millions, who never seem to
do anything. (He never seems to do anything.) I never seem to do
anything. (He never seems to do anything.)
And everytime I get the urge to strike out on my own, insecurity
wraps me up, it's cold outside the fold.
So I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm the man who merely threatens, who's
always saying what he's gonna do. (He's always saying what he's gonna
do.) I'm always saying what I'm gonna do. (He's always saying what
he's gonna do.)
I'm running steady, oh so steady, so safe and sound I could drown.
I've had my fill of living in my cosy armchair land, but all my
schemes come to a humiliating end.
So I won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm scared what might happen. I
won't rock the boat, 'cause I'm one of the millions, who's always
saying what he's gonna do. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.)
I'm always saying what I'm gonna do. (He's always saying what he's
gonna do.)
No I won't rock no boats. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.)
Kiss goodbye to my hopes. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.) I
won't rock no boats. (He's always saying what he's gonna do.) Life
is easy when you're being kept afloat. I won't rock no boats
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Are Waves Breaking Foaming Around Me
There are waves breaking foaming around me
hitting with angry power,
while a storm is unleashed on the sea and in my life,
a boat in the distance is twisting as if it is sinking
while it is dangerously recoiling up and down
with stormy winds bashing at it,
it seems as if it is going to disappear under the swelling water
and still You are there to protect that boat and me
and today I want to make You the helmsman of my life,
I ask You to steer me safely to the harbour of rest,
I pray that You will protect me in my ways
and like that boat I am missing on a stormy sea
where only Your almighty hand
can bring me safely to land, to the other side of darkness.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Floating Boat Needs a Rudder
You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.
And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.
You're afraid to row,
A boat that stays on shore!
And advice you're given...
Your are quick to ignore.
Any boat that you'll use will need a rudder.
That boat you use will need a rudder.
Any boat you will use will need a rudder,
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.
That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder.
That boat you're using needs a rudder...
From here to there...
Or wherever your druthers.
You seek direction!
That's what you claim to need.
And you want to stay clear...
Of a negativity that teases and schemes.
And you say to me,
You've got to float your own boat.
But fear prevents you,
To listen to advice you toss away...
Before anywhere you go.
And you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.
No you don't want to hear...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
Not from me,
Or anyone other.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
That that that boat,
That you're using needs a rudder.
One day you'll see...
A floating boat needs a rudder!
One day you'll find it true...
And agree with me.
No matter what druthers suffered...
One day you'll agree.
A floating boat needs a rudder...
To get to your destiny!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Letter My Father Will Never See
if only one last time i could see you. if only one time i could tell you what i think. if only one time i could say what i've been thinking for all these years. if only i could just not care. if only it didn't hurt so much. if only i could say that you dont matter. if only i could tell you. if only one time you'd listen. if only you knew. if only i could tell you your an ass. if only i could say and put into words what you've put me through. if only you were around to say good job.
as a father you have failed. as a father you were never there. as a father you never held me. as a father you never cared. as a father you never gave me praise. as a father you never brushed my hair. as a father you didn't teach me about life. as a father you didn't teach me how to care. as a father you never showed me love. as a a father you you let me cower in the corner. as a father you scared the hell out of me every night of the week. as a father you came home drunk. as a father you didn't put me to bed. as a father you never gave me a hug as a father you were my worst night. however, for some reason i cant fathom your my father. and for the same reason i cant fathom how you earned the title when being a father was one thing that you never were and dont seem to want to be.
The Ferryer
Three years after my father's death
he goes back to work. Unemployed
for twenty-five years, he's very glad
to be taken on again, shows up
on time, tireless worker. He sits
in the prow of the boat, sweet cox, turned
with his back to the carried. He is dead, but able
to kneel upright, facing forward
toward the other shore. Someone has closed
his mouth, so he looks more comfortable, not
thirsty or calling out, and his eyes
are open, there under the iris the black
line that appeared there in death. He is calm,
he is happy to be hired, he's in business again,
his new job is a joke between us and he
loves to have a joke with me, he keeps
a straight face. He waits, naked,
ivory bow figurehead,
ribs, nipples, lips, a gaunt
tall man, and when I bring people
and set them in the boat and push them off
my father poles them across the river
to the far bank. We don't speak,
he knows that this is simply someone
I want to get rid of, who makes me feel
ugly and afraid. I do not say
the way you did. He knows the labor
and loves it. When I dump someone in
he does not look back, he takes them straight
to hell. He wants to work for me
until I die. Then, he knows, I will
come to him, get in his boat
and be taken across, then hold out my broad
hand to his, help him ashore, we will
embrace like two who were never born,
naked, not breathing then up to our chins we will
pull the dark blanket of earth and
rest together at the end of the working day.
poem by Sharon Olds
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The Boat
i am drawing
this situation, this is the boat, it has four arms spreading
on the wide face of the sea
these arms shall caress
and make love with its bounty
some waters sound a slush
like the sand announcing your safe and soft arrival
the boat has eyes too
just like us inside it
its gaze spreading the vision of where we are going
the boat looks upon us with envy
we are the lovers inside its mouth
the boat slides on calm seas
this peaceful twilight
when the seagulls have gone away
here, we make love again
the boat compromising with a restful state this time
everything is so warm
the fires in our hearts
the boat surely understands something that burns
yet so unconsumed
undiminished
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Boat Is Sinking
Why, oh why? !
Why do i have to struggle on this earth like this?
For i am on the high sea and my boat is sinking;
Yes, this boat is sinking! !
How many rivers do i have to cross?
For the boat i am using is now sinking;
Do i have to dive into the sea or walk over it?
Why, oh why? !
I don't even know how to swim and,
How many rivers do i have to cross?
Why, oh why? !
Do i have to sink and see the ocean floor?
This boat is sinking,
This boat is sinking,
This boat is sinking!
Why, oh why?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Runcorn Ferry
On the banks of the Mersey, o'er on Cheshire side,
Lies Runcorn that's best known to fame
By Transporter Bridge as takes folks over t'stream,
Or else brings them back across same.
In days afore Transporter Bridge were put up,
A ferryboat lay in the slip,
And old Ted the boatman would row folks across
At per tuppence per person per trip.
Now Runcorn lay over on one side of stream,
And Widnes on t'other side stood,
And, as nobody wanted to go either place,
Well, the trade wasn't any too good.
One evening, to Ted's superlative surprise,
Three customers came into view:
A Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom it were,
And Albert, their little son, too.
"How much for the three?" Mr Ramsbottom asked,
As his hand to his pocket did dip.
Ted said: "Same for three as it would be for one,
Per tuppence per person per trip."
"You're not charging tuppence for that little lad?"
Said Mother, her eyes flashing wild.
"Per tuppence per person per trip", answered Ted,
"Per woman, per man, or per child".
"Fivepence for three, that's the most that I'll pay",
Said Father, "Don't waste time in talk".
"Per tuppence per person per trip", answered Ted,
"And them, as can't pay, 'as to walk!"
"We can walk, an' all", said Father. "Come Mother,
It's none so deep, weather's quite mild".
So into the water the three of them stepped:
The father, the mother, the child.
The further they paddled, the deeper it got,
But they wouldn't give in, once begun.
In the spirit that's made Lancashire what she is,
They'd sooner be drownded than done.
Very soon, the old people were up to their necks,
And the little lad clean out of sight.
Said Father: "Where's Albert?" And Mother replied:
"I've got hold of his hand, he's all right!"
Well, just at that moment, Pa got an idea
And, floundering back to old Ted, He said:
"We've walked half-way. Come, tak' us the rest
For half-price -- that's a penny a head."
But Ted wasn't standing for none of that there,
And, making an obstinate lip,
"Per tuppence per person per trip", Ted replied,
"Per trip, or per part of per trip".
"All right, then", said Father, "let me tak' the boat,
And I'll pick up the others half-way.
I'll row them across, and I'll bring the boat back,
And thruppence in t'bargain I'll pay".
T'were money for nothing. Ted answered: "Right-ho",
And Father got hold of the sculls.
With the sharp end of boat towards middle of stream,
He were there in a couple of pulls.
He got Mother out -- it were rather a job,
With the water, she weighed half a ton --
Then, pushing the oar down the side of the boat,
Started fishing around for his son.
When poor little Albert came up to the top,
His collars were soggy and limp.
And, with holding his breath at the bottom so long,
His face were as red as a shrimp.
Pa took them across, and he brought the boat back,
And he said to old Ted on the slip:
"Wilt' row me across by me'sen?" Ted said:
"Aye, at per tuppence per person per trip".
When they got t'other side, Father laughed fit to bust.
He'd got best of bargain, you see.
He'd worked it all out, and he'd got his own way,
And he'd paid nobbut fivepence for three!
poem by Marriott Edgar
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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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