A Room Without A Fan
there is a room without a fan
but there is a piano there
where a child practices for the whole day
there is a room without a fan
but it has a mother with a stick on hand
there are fingers on a musical piece
too hurt to say that it is too hurt
there is no blood
but shall it mean that there is no bleeding of his heart?
how can mother
not understand how is it to be a boy
deprived of
his normal play
in the backyard of the house.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Hurt Mothers
Give me a heart O Lord
Such as that of a mother
Please, please dear God
A heart of a hurt mother
Like pricks and thorns grow
On stems in hedges yet don’t prick
They sway with stems when winds blow
Never do they hurt their own stick
A heart that hurts I already have
But compared to a mother’s,
This of mine has burning nerve
In a hurt mother’s heart, tenderness gathers
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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Special Lady
I know everybody likes to think they have the best mother,
but they're wrong
the best mother in the world is my mum,
I swear to you my mother is the best mother,
but why should you take my word for it, ask my sister or my brother,
When I was young and I was feeling helpless because I was sick,
She would come to the rescue with some soup and rub on some vicks,
I swear By Allah I love my Mother,
Shes the only one who would stick by me and never surrender,
When people said I couldn't, she said I could,
and when I got hurt, she would cry so much my living room would flood,
Masha'Allah I have the best mother,
And as long as I'm breathing I want to do everything in my power,
to make sure she never suffers,
because she did everything she could to see me smile and prosper,
even when she had a bloody hard day at work,
she would come in, smile and say 'What would you like to eat love? '
I love my mother, I never want to see another tear fall from her eyes,
And they say at her feet lies paradise,
so with my foolish ways, I'm sorry if I ever hurt her,
and I want to see her smile forever,
I can be annoying but I can never bug her,
that's why next time I see her I'm going to squeeze and hug her,
I love all mothers,
because like my mother is a mother to you,
your mother is a mother to me,
so this is the moral of the story,
I love my mother,
she is incomparable to anybody.
poem by Salleh Chowdhury
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Now That You're Gone
I ain't afraid of hurt
I've had so much it feels just like normal to me now
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, in your old house
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
Everything you ever touched is undisturbed and hangs out
Like crime scene evidence undisturbed in dust
I don't dare touch anything because it's evidence of us
And it means everything
Well sort of
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, in your old house
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
I'm alone and I'm dancing with you now
In your old room but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
Gone
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give your child a Heart.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that makes them kind
Oh, Mother, heart that rules the mind.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that makes them wise
Oh, Mother, heart that fights the vice.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that tells them to care
Oh, Mother, heart that tells them to share.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that nourishes the hurt
Oh, Mother, heart that consoles the heart.
.
.
posted on 14-06-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Just Like My Father
Im just like my father
But I am much worse
He hurt his mother
I hurt mine worse
Im just like my brother
He hurt his wife
I hurt mine first
It hurts to be like cain
Aint no way
Im not able
Yknow what I mean
He hurt my mother
I hurt her worse
Never stop the
Never stopping
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass
Victor delorenzo: drums
Recorded at carriage house, stamford, ct
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mother's Love
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother will know,
When a Child is sick with fever, and the pulse is slow;
A Mother will not sleep or rest, till the child is well,
This is what my Mother did, she cared, I could tell.
What is a Mother's love? As it's only a Mother can feel,
When a Child is so bad, she makes her Mother feel like a heel;
Like the Mother will keep her patience till she wants to cry,
But in the end, when; the child is sorry, then she will sigh.
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother can say with Love,
My Mother never did give up, it's the Same as God above;
When we Hurt our Mother, show Angers, a grieve them too,
We need to say sorry, and also to God this is true.
God and Mother's are almost the same, Forgiving and Receiving,
God just patiently waits for us, to be well behaving;
And say sorry for our sin, He' ll never give up on us,
So is a Mother's Love, she shows love, she'll never fuss.
poem by Margaret Haig
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What to say when you are hurt
Do they hurt you today?
In your mind? In your heart?
What is the color of this blood
Flowing from your mind
This bleeding heart
Because they hurt you again
She slapped you he kicked you
And they insulted you
You knelt for mercy
They laughed and they left
You alone in your pains
Do not clench your hands to
Form these fists
Do not let your heart be
Conquered by anger
Do not let your mind be poisoned
By the thoughts of revenge
What did God tell you when you are hurt?
Forgive them for they do not know
What they are doing.
Do you remember that? Do you understand that?
Now you must stand and be counted.
You have the name, you are God’s child.
You have something again to tell him
Why not? Now rest your head on his arms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Great-Great Uncle Tchaikovsky's DNA
He walks so handsome, tall and lean,
Nothing grander have I seen,
In my son, this child of mine,
Harmonious mirth to ever shine,
A voice so deep and humble still,
He grabs the room despite his will,
Long fingers on a manly hand,
Commanding presence where he stands,
True and gentle when not showing,
The humble heart within him glowing,
The gift of music springs from him,
Not knowing the penchant he holds within,
Tchaikovsky blood in his DNA,
The crowds will want to hear him play,
Through his fingers to his guitar,
From morning glory and moonlit star,
To hear him play brings mortal bliss,
A mother's heart just can't resist.
poem by Victoria Gauci
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A Child Was Hurt
When I was a child you hurt me.
I was nothing but a mere girl.
I was only 5 years old.
I couldnt fight you couldnt fend you off.
A child was hurt.
A child was hurt for your fantasies.
That child was me.
I was only a wee girl.
A child was hurt.
It used to be a cool place to play.
It once was my faviorate place to go.
But you took that from me.
As well as raping me.
A child was hurt.
You said it was a game.
I knew it was rong.
It didnt feel right.
I begged you to stop.
You looked laughed and carried in.
A child was hurt.
A child was hurt.
I was so much smaller than you.
You towered over me.
You had the power.
And you didnt care.
A child was hurt
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Who Hurts Whom?
Hurt, is that lesson of life,
Perfect pool of Imperfects,
A kid may get hurt
Or may hurt its parents too
its parents may hurt
Or may hurt their kid too,
A brother may get hurt,
or he may hurt brothers and sisters too,
Sister gets hurt
Or she may hurt her brothers and sisters too,
Mother gets hurt or she my may hurt father too.
Father may get hurt Or may hurt mother too,
A friend gets hurt
Or may hurt his friend too!
A lover get hurts, or may hurt one's lover too,
Teacher may gets hurt
Or may hurt student too
Student gets hurt Or he may hurt his teacher too,
Life is a pool of Imperfects
And only Imperfects can perfect life,
And life is that greatest class room,
Where the greatest and perfect teacher teaches perfect lessons,
But life when teaches, we just close the chapter,
'saying it is our fate! '
Is it true that one has to hurt others to make his living?
Living a life, and make a Living aren't the differ?
People are determined to build life than live a life,
Where one may hurt others,
This the story of Buddha asking kisa Gouthami ' I will save your child, but bring handful of mustard from a home where death not entered! '
This is the story,
'I will heal your hurts, if you can bring some dust of a man's feet, whoever neither got hurt nor hurt others! '
Life a that teaches and hurt is that lesson,
Which shows the one who hurts is Imperfect than who gets hurt,
Both are still imperfect,
The one got hurt is more imperfect,
And he is the one who hurts himself,
by his desires and expectations,
He is the one who gives chance to others to hurt,
With his misunderstandings!
Hurt is the result of our own imperfection say those have seen and understood life in perfect!
God is that only perfect and he is out of life cycle,
And He can only be healer of all hurts!
Perfection can make us hurt free, but imperfection is the life,
Those who ant life let them adjust themself with imperfection of own first and with that of others,
What you say, is it perfect or imperfect? You please, decide and tell me!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Mother's Heart
Numb with feelings on the loss of her child
A mother, she stood with a bleeding heart
Tears of sadness that struck her being
for this beautiful mother with love she wept
Recalling memories of her only son
was a child that chose the best mother for him
His learnings on earth has come to an end
Leaving his mother to cope, without him
Her heart that aches with constant pain
Mother I am okay, for I am resting now
A time will come for us to meet
So mother please, “do not weep”.
poem by Noreen Fonseca
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I Love A Piano
[1st verse:]
As a child I went wild when a band played
How I ran to the man when his hand swayed
Clarinets were my pets, and a slide trombone I thought was simply
Divine
But today when they play I could hiss them
Evry bar is a jar to my system
But theres one musical instrument that I call mine
[chorus:]
I love a piano, I love a piano
I love to hear somebody play
Upon a piano, a grand piano
It simply carries me away
I know a fine way to treat a steinway
I love to run my fingers oer the keys, the ivories
And with the pedal I love to meddle
When padarewski comes this way
Im so delighted if Im invited
To hear that long haired genius play
So you can keep your fiddle and your bow
Give me a p-i-a-n-o, oh, oh
I love to stop right beside an upright
Or a high toned baby grand
[2nd verse:]
When a green tetrazine starts to warble
I grow cold as an old piece of marble
I allude to the crude little party singer who dont know when to pause
At her best I detest the soprano
But I run to the one at the piano
I always love the accompniment and thats because
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like No Other...Mother
Mother...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.
Mother; it was all a white lie
How do I look? ’ says mother just before she goes out
I reply ‘wow amazing’ mother smiles
But if only she knew it was a white lie
I would hurt her deep inside
Mother says ‘which dress looks better’
I chose red, although I didn’t like neither
Mother reply’s ‘I’m glad you like it ‘, I reply ‘like it? I love it! ’ Yes I lied I genuinely disliked it!
Mother giggles but what she doesn’t realise it’s apart of my game just not as obvious as a riddle.
Mother is on a diet and works so hard to stick to it
Mother asks me ‘have I reduced weight a little bit? ’
I reply ‘a little bit? ’ you’ve lost so much that you’re starting to look like a stick!
Mother giggles and cuddles me; see this is why I lie because I make her feel so valuable and happy!
When mother was pregnant she looked big as ever! Mother asks’ ‘do I look big? ’ I reply look big? Never! Yes I lied to make her feel better!
I wanted her to feel cool about herself just like the breeze in the Lebanese weather
Although she was awfully big, I made her feel light as a feather!
Father is home late; mother is worried, she asks me if I think he’s ok
I reply ‘of course he is’ she smiles and gives me a kiss
Although I was also afraid and wanted to ask mother the same
I kept her calm by putting on a brave face
Mother says ‘I have a surprise for you in the boot’
I opened it and bless mother; she had bought me new shoes,
Mother says ‘like the shoes? ’ I reply ‘of course I do’ but if only she knew,
I would hurt her in the count of two!
poem by Anna Fawaz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A letter which never sended
Last night I was a dream
About your house
Were the roof leaks everywhere
A green-painted house dull
I walk to the room
To the kitchen
To the front
The water to flood (inundate) on the floor
The water rose higher and higher
Flow to the visiting room
I walk to bend (bow, stop) and to walk on tiptoe,
I walk on tiptoe to avoid The water flood
Everywhere, from the front to backyard
I walk on zig-zag
Head made a low bow
To avoid the bird excrement
Much of bird cage hanged
On the roof
when the water to flood (inundate) increasing highest
to their food’ knee, -you still cook in the kichen
in the bend of the dull wall and moss-covered/mildewed
The water flood increasing and increasing on the foots
to the broken chairs
to wet, dampen the books which to scatter, spread everywhere
I could stop to find your mother anymore
she likes to codle me (to observe by holding in the hand)
when I was child: “She said, I just could walk
run around the kitchen, along the corridor
and riding the pedicab cycle
near the thing being dired/the wash
while playing the little car.”
To day i find your mother
In the overcast house
A green-painted house dull
Dull painted
Dark and overcast
The water to flood (inundate) on the floor
Everywhere
Just I found your mother walking stick
And her articial foot
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.
Mother...This ones' For You...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.
A Piece of This
A son trying to help his mother who’s 83 in to the tub to bathe hears words that cut him to his very soul, “You must want a piece of this.” Now, as he hold back his hurt and wipe the spit of his face that his mother had spat on him thoughts begin to race through his mind. How could the woman who gave birth to me think that I would want to do that to her? She comforted me when I was afraid at night. She fed me when I hungry. Yes she was the first woman I loved just like any son would love his mother. But no I have no Oedipus complex. So no I don’t want a piece of that. Wow, this woman is the Grandmother to my son I wonder if I was not here and he was would she say to him “You must want a piece of this.” I know Alzheimer has taken over her mind and she is not the loving mother I once knew but it stills hurts to hear her say, “You must want a piece of this.”
The Player Piano
I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake House
Run by a lady my age. She was gay.
When I told her that I came from Pasadena
She laughed and said, "I lived in Pasadena
When Fatty Arbuckle drove the El Molino bus."
I felt that I had met someone from home.
No, not Pasadena, Fatty Arbuckle.
Who's that? Oh, something that we had in common
Like -- like -- the false armistice. Piano rolls.
She told me her house was the first Pancake House
East of the Mississippi, and I showed her
A picture of my grandson. Going home --
Home to the hotel -- I began to hum,
"Smile a while, I bid you sad adieu,
When the clouds roll back I'll come to you."
Let's brush our hair before we go to bed,
I say to the old friend who lives in my mirror.
I remember how I'd brush my mother's hair
Before she bobbed it. How long has it been
Since I hit my funnybone? had a scab on my knee?
Here are Mother and Father in a photograph,
Father's holding me.... They both look so young.
I'm so much older than they are. Look at them,
Two babies with their baby. I don't blame you,
You weren't old enough to know any better;
If I could I'd go back, sit down by you both,
And sign our true armistice: you weren't to blame.
I shut my eyes and there's our living room.
The piano's playing something by Chopin,
And Mother and Father and their little girl
Listen. Look, the keys go down by themselves!
I go over, hold my hands out, play I play --
If only, somehow, I had learned to live!
The three of us sit watching, as my waltz
Plays itself out a half-inch from my fingers.
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loving Mother Goes Too Far
Loving mother goes too far
when she says her child is everything
but doesn't allow anyone including her child
love her back
Loving mother goes too far
when she protects like a knight
even from single dust particle
and forget the child should learn to survive without her
Loving mother goes too far
when she thinks that her child's happiness is her happiness
and keeps her heart hurt because it can't be true
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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