Dove in the Arch
Cursed!
be the father of the bride
of the blacksmith who forged the iron for the axe
with which the woodsman hacked down the oak
from which the bed was carved
in which was conceived the great-grandfather
of the man who was driving the carriage
in which your mother met your father.
poem by Robert Desnos
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Related quotes
Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It's All Relative: : Humour
My mother’s brother’s sister’s name is Grace
She’s my aunt and likes to go from place to place
My mother’s sister’s brother’s name is Brad
He’s my uncle and he is my cousin’s Dad
My grandmother on my mother’s side
Is my maternal gran, she is my grandfather’s bride
She also is my father’s mother-in-law
And not surprisingly they often go to war
My cousin is the nephew of my mother
His father happens to be my mother’s brother
My aunty’s niece is in fact myself
If you're confused please don't look at me for help
(Sydney, Australia - 2005)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
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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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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
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The Old Family Picture
In the old
black-and-white
family picture,
I see
great grandfather
dead drunk
with his hat
slightly skewed.
In the same old
black-and-white
family picture,
I see
grandfather
as drunk as
his father is
with his hat
also slightly skewed.
Father fools
great grandfather
and grandfather
with his rice-washed-water
as the good old home-made
Makoli.
They all believe him.
1996
poem by Sangnam Nam
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An Old Man With His Hat
There Little Robbie found him in an old yellow album
A blurred picture of a half old man with his hat
Standing in front of the coffin
He smiles shy but wide with his teeth gone making a hole like Little Robbie when he lose his baby teeth
Little Robbie doesn’t recognize him and he wonder where he is now
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his big sister
But his sister doesn’t recognize him and she wonder who he is
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his mother
But his mother doesn’t recognize him and she wonder how he was there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his father
But his father doesn’t recognize him and he wonder what he did there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his uncle
But his uncle doesn’t recognize him and he wonder when the picture taken
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks hopelessly to his grandfather
His grandfather takes a deep look to that picture and wonders why Little Robbie asks
Little Robbie says, “I want to meet him! I want to know about him! I want to play with him! ”
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
But his grandfather shakes his head, “No, he is not.”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
“He accompanied your great grandfather when he sick until his death. This picture is taken in a burial of your great grandfather.”
His grandfather stares at little Robbie
“Now, are you disappointed? ”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
Little Robbie shakes his head, “No, I am not.”
Though he is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
Though he is just an old man with his hat
“But I still want to meet him, I want to know about him, and I want to play with him! ”
And then he could be one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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‘father”:
'A FATHER IS SOMEONE WHO'S THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED HIM
A FATHER NEVER LETS YOU DOWN
A FATHER IS SOMEONE THERE TO HUG YOU WHEN SOMETHING GOES WRONG
A FATHER IS THERE TO DRY UP THE TEARS
A FATHER IS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO LEAVES THE MOTHER WHEN HE FINDS OUT SHE'S PERGANT
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO DENYS THEIR OWN CHILD
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO LEAVES YOU LEFT BEHIND
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO SAYS ONE THING TO ONE PERSON THEN SAYS ANOTHER THING TO SOMEONE ELSE
A FATHER IS’NT WHAT I SEE IN YOU”
poem by Yeslin Salazar
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The family tree
I am known by my father
Though equally owned by mother.
I trace from my father’s father,
And not from father’s mother
Nor my mother’s mother or father.
Has family tree any sense?
19.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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To be fanatic
Mother is a Christian, father, an Islam,
Mother’s mother, a Jain,
Mothers father, a Buddhist,
Father’s mother a Saivite,
Father’s father a Vaishnavite,
And their forefathers none,
Which religion must I be fanatic of?
24.10.2009
[saivites = followers of God Siva;
Vaishnavites = followers of God Krishna]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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Sententiæ
If the father’s bankrupt, and the sons fail,
Blaming it on their own bad start,
Say the father should have gone to gaol,
Forgetting their grandfather’s part.
So with all centuries of blame
Fathers by their children cursed,
Say that all the trouble came
From Eve and Adam first.
Both wrong: are wronged. But we are wronged
the most.
Their life was deep, but only deep, immersed.
We fathom further, deep enough to boast
We know a worse beneath our father’s worst.
Cambridge Review, 52/1290 (10 June 1931), 493.
poem by Hugh Sykes Davies
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How Do Prepare For The Coming Famine?
i like the way my father and mother
once lived.
they died with all serenity, and there
was this banquet we tendered, before
each passed away, as though
there is nothing to worry
they danced their days, their entrance
of course was silent, and their exits
a little serene, and then we talk as
though we understand how to live
just like them
there were droughts but father knew
how to store water in the house and
each of us had its own fill of our thirts
there were past hungers but mother
has her own skill of using the knife
in cutting each share each piece to
be nibbled by our mouths
and now, we are left here my brothers
and sisters, warned about an incoming famine
let us remember how it was with father and mother
and grandfather's father:
when life was so simple then
when there was hunger and yet none died of hunger
when there was drought and yet each of us has a glassful of water
when there was crisis, yet each had symbiosis
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost Father
he will never say im there
never be able to say i care
as i grow and change through the years
i will never know what it is like
to be daddys little girl with my father by my side
my father was different
cruel and lost in a mind
that could never see a better light
satan took him over he took my father
we were sad and even mad
how do you forgive a father
who will never give me his blessings
never be there on my wedding day to walk me down the asile
never be there when i need to cry
he will never be a grandfather to my child
my father ruiened many lifes
not being able to face himself
one early morning he was not to awake
now sometimes i blame myself
i guess for being selfish and wanting to much
why could we not help and make him see?
poem by Shannon Willner
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Happy Female Father’s Day
I patiently waited for another year,
For father’s day to come
To wish that special person a happy day
Happy father’s day, to my mom
The father figure, was very rare
Games together were numb
I wonder what a father’s love might be
Happy father’s day, to my mom.
So on this day set aside for dads,
I want to let you know
That you are the one I treasure most,
And to you my love I owe
Thank you for another father’s day,
I longed for this day to come,
Never knowing the love, of a visiting dad
Happy father’s day, to my mom
My mother dear, my mother dear,
You are the best, in every way
So I stand tall and wish for you
A happy female father’s day.
poem by Troy Brown
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To Frinton-on-Sea by Train - The Annual Pilgrimage,1910
When in the large compartment,
Everyone was seated.
And all the luggage loaded,
The family group completed.
Excitement as the train now
Leaves the local station.
Everyone perceiving
A feeling of elation.
The Servants in the Third Class
All with faces radiant,
The train now fairly straining
Up it's first steep gradient.
Smoke rising from the engine,
Through the countryside it races,
Such a rattling and a clattering,
Rhythmic chugging as it paces.
Nurse is quietly rocking baby,
Mother dozing, Father reading.
Children gazing through the window,
Trees and streams seem to be speeding.
Realisation, train is stopping,
Doors are opening, whistles blare,
All alighting from the carriage,
Platforms busy. Great sea air!
Call the porter for the luggage,
What! No luggage, this can't be,
'Did you tip the porter Father? '
Mother calls out nervously.
Father fuming calls the Driver,
Calls ths Station Master too,
Sorry Sir, it's not our doing
We will send it on to you.
Father marching to the taxi,
Mother fretting following along,
Nurse with baby shrieking loudly
Children calling, 'What is wrong? '.
Father should have tipped the porter,
Much more than a farthing's worth,
So he didn't load the luggage,
In the 'First Class' luggage berth.
It arrived early next morning,
By the first train down the track,
So as to the moral of this story,
If you're too mean, watch out Jack!
© Ernestine Northover
This poem was written from a story handed down through the family, and the 'Father' was my husband's Great Grandfather, and it is absolutely true, he was a very mean man. A Farthing being the lowest coinage of that time. We have photos of them all sitting on the sand, in full dress with the ladies in huge feathered hats. A wonderful sight! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Father there you Are(For my dad)
Father it's been a long time,
Since I was baby which I cannot count on my ten fingers,
Cradle my mother's arms,
My eyes closed yet to see my father,
Father running around,
Now I can talk and walk,
Those years later,
Father where are you?
Seeing my mother,
Saying I love thy father,
Which I do,
My love will forever be true,
Now as I grow older once again,
I ask myself,
Father where are you?
Inside my life I see a tunnel,
Running through that tunnel I hear a voice,
Do I go or should I stay?
Trusting my gut I do,
A smile on my face,
Father there you are!
poem by Qeeony Luv
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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