En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Old Tombstone

The old tombstone leans gently out of true
Just a marker for another's lost aims,
No one special, no one wise will need rue
His passing. Look! So long ago went James.
In the year of nineteen hundred and ten
On a day like this, in summer, he slept,
And awoke no more, just like all our men
And women, born to die. Yet no one wept
Except his wife and family and friends.
And he so young, just over twenty four,
Gone from his young wife half which life depends
And tears of anguish from her soul did pour.
Too much to bear this tombstone message shows,
Eight days later to her husband went Rose.

poem by Paul Anthony
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The Day Will Come

When the tombstone reads my name
There at-last
There will be no pain
Maybe my family will say then
That they didn't know me that well
Now maybe, They'll start to understand
What made my heartaches, and swells
We were so young when
I started the fight
To end that past

It's why I couldn't ever hold my tears back

You see, I was the one that had
Gotten tired of what made them cry
Now maybe they'll stand here
Trying to understand my words and why
So
Those words, on my tombstone
Shows how true love, says good-by

But the time is not now
Yet the time is slowly coming near
On that day they will see love
My kind of love, that doesn't cause tears
It's what I've fought for
All those years

So on my tombstone
They'll see what I've done
How I ended all their abuse
Through love songs that I've sung

poem by Clyde Bryson
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My Wife Is A Most Knowing Woman

My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
She never will hear explanations
But instantly puts me to rout,
There's no use to try and deceive her,
If out with my friends night or day,
In a most inconceivable manner,
She tells where I've been right away,
She says that I'm 'mean' and 'inhuman.'
Oh! My wife is a most knowing woman.

She would've been hung up for witchcraft
If she had lived sooner, I know,
There's no hiding anything from her,
She knows what I do -- where I go;
And if I come in after midnight
And say 'I have been to the lodge,'
Oh, she says while she flies in a fury,
'Now don't think to play such a dodge!
It's all very fine, but won't do, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Not often I go out to dinner
And come home a little 'so so,'
I try to creep up through the hall-way,
As still as a mouse, on tip-toe,
She's sure to be waiting up for me
And then comes a nice little scene,
'What, you tell me you're sober, you wretch you,
Now don't think that I am so green!
My life is quite worn out with you, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman!

She knows me much better than I do,
Her eyes are like those of a lynx,
Though how she discovers my secrets
Is a riddle would puzzle a sphynx,
On fair days, when we go out walking,
If ladies look at me askance,
In the most harmless way, I assure you,
My wife gives me, oh! such a glance,
And says 'all these insults you'll rue, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Yes, I must give all of my friends up
If I would live happy and quiet;
One might as well be 'neath a tombstone
As live in confusion and riot.
This life we all know is a short one,
While some tongues are long, heaven knows,
And a miserable life is a husband's
Who numbers his wife with his foes;
I'll stay at home now like a true man,
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

poem by Stephen C. Foster
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Wife- better half of life

Wife is the better half of life
Give wife love affection as soul-mate
Wife is not glorified maid as said
Wife do not want money salary honorarium
Do not make hulla gulla and do not beat drum.

Mian bibi relationship should not be commercialized
Third party intervention in family relation vandalized.

Wife is not a domestic labourer
Wife is backbone of the family
The maile stone of the family
Wife is the torchlight of the family
Wife is the colorful star
Do no put any question to her.

Wife is there to give everything
Wife is not to take anything in return
Wife is the goddess.

Only mad man can say wife is a domestic servant
Make wife a wife life-partner better half
And enjoy life freely.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Are You a Good Husband?

All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return

poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Obadiah Bell

I am fit and I am well (so said Obadiah Bell.)
I take life as it come from day to day,
I have never been a scorner
Of the 'trouble round the corner,'
For it may be lurking half a life away.
No false vision ere bewitches
Me with dreams of fame or riches,So I'm fairly well content and free of strife.
With my job and friends and my garden and my fowls, and my club and my bowls
and my pipe and my books and my dog and my family and my wife.
And, since I seek the safer things in life,
Most especially my family and wife.

On occasion, vagrant fears stir me with the passing years,
A sudden qualm, a flash of half-felt fright;
But I know my limitations
As a savior of nations:
And who am I to put the world aright.
So, when qualms like these assail me,
What I find may never fail me
As, contented as I may, tho' life I jog,
Are my job and friends and my fowls and my club and my bowls and my pipe
and my family and my wife and my books and my garden and my dog,
And, when I'd dissipate some mental fog,
Most especially my garden and my dog.

For a man can tell tell (so said Obadiah Bell.)
When what he has may one day disappear:
So I thank what gods there be
That all they gave to me
Has stayed with me for yet another year.
And I do such as I can
To assist my fellow man
And wish him blessed as I am with my lot
With my family and my wife, and my job and my bowls and my pipe and my
dog and my club and my friends and my little garden plot;
And, when I think of all the joy I've got,
Most especially my friends, and which is not?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Happy Birthday Love

For my wife who is -? Today

Today is your birthday
and you are telling everyone
that you are twenty-one years young.
The children don’t believe it
as it makes you younger that them.
When you tell them they say,
“In your dreams, mum.”
However, having said that
you are twenty-one to me
still filled with love and vitality.
We’re still young as when we fell in love
and today is your birthday.
You are sure to have a good one
surrounded by friends and family.
That is all I have to say except
Happy Birthday Love,
have a wonderful day.
Your loving husband David,
the one born down on the funny farm.

8 March 2008

poem by David Harris
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Girl Eighteen, Teacher Forty

This little story is so tragic
About a young girl who was just eighteen
Her cute lovely name is Monique
The most silly girl I have seen.

Monique had an old crazed professor
Who was a witless half of a man
A forty year old bald predator
Who would get young girls if he can.

One day she ran off with this teacher
And he did the same, left family
Unmindful of his sly, dubious character
Too young to have a grasp of reality.

After five years Monique had three kids
She had lost precious youth and was fat
Her beloved teacher repeated what he did
Got another girl and Monique, he forgot.

Now Monique lost everything but her soul
She would worry 'bout food for tomorrow
She remembered the wife whose husband she stole
And her words - 'You will reap what you sow.'

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Happy To Live On Her Own

For twenty years married to a horrible man
In human years that does seem quite a long span
Her son and her daughter eighteen and nineteen
One might say that her better days she has seen.

A woman who does know about male abuse
Her husband when drunk often beat her though that's not an excuse
For such criminal behaviour to his beautiful wife
Some women with men have a terrible life.

He was not a good husband and a rotten dad
Herself and their children he did treat so bad
That he has left her for another she does feel quite glad
Though for his new woman she feels a bit sad.

She knows all about the anger of a man
And to marry again it is not in her plan
Some hard times in life one can say she has known
And now she is happy to live on her own.

poem by Francis Duggan
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My Life - The Story of Young Boy - Pt.1

She yelled and took the bottle
And then my dad yelled back
Young boy crying in the corner
Memories of my childhood are all black

“I hate you” she screams
But he hates her more
Their hatred builds
As they even their score

Pins her to the couch
Saying nasty things
Young boy is wondering
Is this the joy life brings?

Sister gets pregnant
One blames the other
Whiskey fix, does the trick
The young boy loses his mother

The working day is done
Father watching the TV
Young boy shows dad what he has done
Father doesn't want to see

Young boy makes a mistake
Dad calls young boy a name
Young boy crying in the corner
Filled with guilt and shame

Young boy seeking somebody
For his life he wants to share
Always seeking and never finding
Cause no one really cares

Mom moves away
Young boy so sad
Family broken
Parents glad

Their lives go on
But his does stay
Young boy, old life
With no time to play

Young boy now a teenager
Turns to drugs and booze
The pain he faced, he turns away
His past he wants to lose

Young boy then gets married
To a beautiful wife
Wants so bad to forget his past
And start a brand new life

Young boy yells at new wife
New wife yells at me
My young boy in the corner
The old cycle he does see

Young boy now starts seeking
To make my life brand new
For the benefit of my young boys
My pain they won't go through

New wife says to young boy
You're never going to change
She packs her bags and then she leaves
Another family now estranged

Young boy really hurting
Hoping pain won't last
For now he has a starring role
In the memories of his past

Young boy sitting wondering
Is the pain what it is worth
Broken people, doing broken things
To make a broken earth

Young boy now is fighting
Fighting for his life
Trying to make the old, brand new again
For his young boys and his wife

Young boy finds Our savior
That sits upon His throne
The abundant life he offers
Shows Young Boy he's not alone

The cycle it continues
But young boy wants to try
To fight for what his parents didn't
Then the cycle he'll defy

So young boy makes a decision
He also makes his creed
He hopes to fix his family
All to God he'll lead

So young boy gives it one last chance
With the hope that Jesus brings
Young boy knows it's not over
Til the fat lady sings.......

To be continued

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Family life

At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...

Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife

Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also

Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife

For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for

Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My Wife’s Second Husband

THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I’m in the swim,
While my wife’s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city—
It all seems very tame—
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.

Oh, my wife’s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover—
The greenest in the game—
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.

Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife’s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.

A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)—
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He’ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife’s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.

I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife’s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander—
It almost seems absurd—
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife’s third.

But my wife’s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We’ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We’ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.

poem by Henry Lawson
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I Had a Little Brother Once

Had a little brother once
Died at six months old

Tears fell but all was not well
With family at home

Barely remember
His face his smile

I was only five years old
When angels took him away

Mum cried for days
Dad yelled and screamed
Why was he taken away?

I could neither cry
Or shout out why
To young to understand

Just merely watched
The heartache and pain
As we grieved
With each passing day

Soft brown eyes
Gentle soul
That's all I could remember
Of my little brother
Another lost young soul

I sit and ponder
What would he be like?
To discover this land
If he was still here
At home were he belonged

All misty eyed
I start to cry
And wish you were here
Besides your family
And your friends

poem by Kaila George
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The Tale Of The Trucker's Life

The young bride sits alone in her house,
waiting for her farm hand husband to return to her lonely bosom.
Enters the husband, tired, and cranky.
He goes to the stereo, hooks up his headphones,
and falls asleep listening to country, and western music.
The bride long since gone to bed alone.
The young mother, and her toddler son
in front of the TV watching movies while the
husband/father works third shift at Wal-Mart 25 miles away.
The mother takes her son to his baseball games,
explains why daddy can't come,
because he decided to be a truck driver.
She is mother, father, and sole teacher to there young son.
She wipes away his tears when he is hurt,
Comforts him when he is sick,
and makes excuses for the absent father
who never has acted like he loved their child.
Who wipes away the tears that the
mother/wife sheds every time she sees
how much their son misses his daddy.
Their little boy puts his arm around his
mother's shoulders and with a hug,
he says, 'mom it will be all right.'
Does the trucker miss his family?
Does he feel the same pain, and sorrow?
He must not care, for he stays gone sometimes four,
sometimes six weeks in a row,
only coming home long enough to make love.
Never does he interact with his son, not really.
The wife, and son now lay in the cold, hard ground,
never to rise again. Now it is too late
for the old trucker to tell them how he really felt.
He sits alone in an old rocking chair,
staring at old, faded photos of his wife,
and son, but he is not in any of the pictures.
He stands in front of the pearly gates of Heaven,
he sees his wife, and son just on the other side,
But they don't recognize him.
So goes the tale of the trucker's life.

poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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The Faithful Wife

The faithful wife in the Christ
Obeys her husband's word;
Claims her own authority
By calling her husband, lord.

She will love her husband dearly
As she submits unto his hand,
Teaches younger women so
In this her family stands.

The faithful wife perceives in God
Her husband is given rule;
As he submits unto the Lord
But a rebellious wife is a fool.

poem by Richard Merrell
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Pretty woman

Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.

poem by See Fee Lee
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I Planted a Rose Tree

I planted a rose tree in my garden,
In early days when the year was young;
I thought it would bear me roses, roses,
While nights were dewy and days were long.

It bore me once, and a white rose only--
A lovely rose with petals of light;
Like the moon in heaven, supreme and lonely;
And the lightning struck it one summer night.

poem by Mathilde Blind
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Togetherness Is Gone

My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me

My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired

My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home

My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired

My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early

My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast

My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet

My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?

My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you

My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?

My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends

My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume

My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear

My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?

My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you

My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?

poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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A Question

AND so in the death-darkened chamber they met,
The woman that once he had loved and the one he loved yet—
The wife who had warped his desire and the woman he could not forget.
They stood by the bier where between them he slept,
And the love he had lost in his wife to her swimming eyes leapt;
But the woman his life had belonged to—his paramour—spoke not nor wept.
It was only a story of sated desire—
Of a love merely sensual burnt to an ash by its fire,
And a husband who turned to a more luscious love that was his for the hire.
All had sinned. For the husband had killed by his clutch,
Rough-handed, the fruit of a love that had dropped at his touch.
One woman's great sin was not loving, his wife's was in loving too much.

And so he had died; it was over at last;
And across him the two women looked at each other aghast—
Across his cold corse, and across the cold corse of the loathsome dead Past!
Then the smouldering love of the wife leapt to flame,
And she poured forth her kisses upon him, and called on his name.
But the other said “No, he is nothing to you; soul and body I claim!”
They looked at each other awhile. Said the wife wearily,
“He is mine; for I loved him, and ever shall love him; let be!”
But the other sneered, “No, he is mine, and mine only, because he loved me!”
Then the two laid their hands on the body between;
And fought for it, wife against paramour, fiercely, unseen—
For the body diseased and polluted, as ever his spirit had been.
And this is a question for answer in Hell:
To which of the two did his spirit belong, can you tell?
Think, was it the woman he loved, or the one who had loved him too well?

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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On the loss of a young man

On the loss of a young man
~
A young man
With a steady career
Promising future
Highly rated
Close circle of friends
A young family
Well provided for
The kind of life
Many wish to have
All too suddenly gone
Leaving repeated questions
None will ever understand
Those silent tears
He wept and kept alone
Till they became to much
An obituary in a newspaper
Reads praise from many
The ending of his story
Sad and sadly unknown
Another young man
Gone too soon

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Successful Marriage

To arrange for a surprise,
I gain a problem in the order of conducting it,
In that effortful step to tax himself who is myself.
I surprise my bride and my now wife,
For she is too good at living with me.
I have the taxation policy from offices
And my rigour in keeping is vast.
Much is to be attained by my school of affairs,
Inside it is a new branch of scientific diploma.
I can see the woman of my love who is my wife,
As much as the times of my whole life,
Such that the honeymoon never got forgotten
And the ceremony became an anniversary.
Young women do find a science
And that is Me, and my wife is these young women.

poem by Naveed Akram
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