Our Fathers of Old
Excellent herbs had our fathers of old--
Excellent herbs to ease their pain--
Alexanders and Marigold,
Eyebright, Orris, and Elecampane--
Basil, Rocket, Valerian, Rue,
( Almost singing themselves they run)
Vervain, Dittany, Call-me-to-you--
Cowslip, Melilot, Rose of the Sun.
Anything green that grew out of the mould
Was an excellent herb to our fathers of old.
Wonderful tales had our fathers of old,
Wonderful tales of the herbs and the stars-
The Sun was Lord of the Marigold,
Basil and Rocket belonged to Mars.
Pat as a sum in division it goes--
(Every herb had a planet bespoke)--
Who but Venus should govern the Rose?
Who but Jupiter own the Oak?
Simply and gravely the facts are told
In the wonderful books of our fathers of old.
Wonderful little, when all is said,
Wonderful little our fathers knew.
Half their remedies cured you dead--
Most of their teaching was quite untrue--
"Look at the stars when a patient is ill.
(Dirt has nothing to do with disease),
Bleed and blister as much as you will,
Bister and bleed him as oft as you please."
Whence enormous and manifold
Errors were made by our fathers of old.
Yet when the sickness was sore in the land,
And neither planets nor herbs assuaged,
They took their lives in their lancet-hand
And, oh, what a wonderful war they waged!
Yes, when the crosses were chalked on the door-
(Yes, when the terrible dead-cart rolled! )
Excellent courage our fathers bore--
None too learned, but nobly bold
Into the fight went our fathers of old.
If it be certain, as Galen says--
And sage Hippocrates holds as much--
"That those afflicted by doubts and dismays
Are mightily helped by a dead man's touch,"
Then, be good to us, stars above!
Then, be good to us, herbs below!
We are afflicted by what we can prove,
We are distracted by what we know.
So-ah, so!
Down from your heaven or up from your mould
Send us the hearts of our Fathers of old!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Fathers Eyes
(by eric clapton)
Sailing down behind the sun,
Waiting for my prince to come.
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again.
Just a toerag on the run.
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him?
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies.
And as I watch this seedling grow,
Feel my heart start to overflow.
Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
Thats when I need them,
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears.
Im like a bridge that was washed away;
My foundations were made of clay.
As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fathers Eyes
I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,
Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
And on that day when we will pay for all the deeds we have done,
Good and bad theyll all be had to see by everyone.
And when youre called to stand and tell just what you saw in me,
More than anything I know, I want your words to be,
She had her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that found the good in things,
When good was not around;
Eyes that found the source of help,
When help would not be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through,
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fathers Are The Men From Sky
Fathers, the men who are like a pen
We never can see whatever is going on inside them
But suddenly that pen is finished and then?
Fathers, the men who try hard for the pleasure of their family
They just want the less for themselves because of the comfort of their children
Looking forward to spend a day with his family in a place that is hilly
Fathers, the men who justify the wishes of their children to their own wishes
They just live to see the victory of their children and family
But their life sometimes is as short as the golden fishes
Fathers, the men who are noble, they leave their tired face out of the house's door
They came in with a happy face, but we know they are tired from inside
We know that they are sad from the core.
Fathers, the men who listen to the pain of family members
People who are powerful to solve the problems and hard conditions
But no one has the ear to understand them; they just talk with the embers
Fathers,
Warm and kind people who never bother
Fathers,
Who are unique in their way, after them there is no tother
Fathers,
Are the men who are like the kind brothers.
poem by Ellias Anderson
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Hunters Lullaby
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fathers are wonderful people
Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should.
For somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills.
And Father struggles daily
To live up to 'his image, '
As protector and provider
And 'hero of the scrimmage.'
And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion.
But if you look inside Dad's heart,
Where no one else can see...
You'll find he's sentimental
And as 'soft' as he can be.
But he's so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife.
But Fathers are just 'wonderful'
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise.
For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him,
And to bring them happiness.
And like our Heavenly Father,
He's a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be always on our side.
poem by Katie Evans
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The Legends Of Evil
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their neighbours' tails: --
"Our fathers lived in the forest,
Foolish people were they,
They went down to the cornland
To teach the farmers to play.
"Our fathers frisked in the millet,
Our fathers skipped in the wheat,
Our fathers hung from the branches,
Our fathers danced in the street.
"Then came the terrible farmers,
Nothing of play they knew,
Only. . .they caught our fathers
And set them to labour too!
"Set them to work in the cornland
With ploughs and sickles and flails,
Put them in mud-walled prisons
And -- cut off their beautiful tails!
"Now, we can watch our fathers,
Sullen and bowed and old,
Stooping over the millet,
Sharing the silly mould,
"Driving a foolish furrow,
Mending a muddy yoke,
Sleeping in mud-walled prisons,
Steeping their food in smoke.
"We may not speak to our fathers,
For if the farmers knew
They would come up to the forest
And set us to labour too."
This is the horrible story
Told as the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their kinsmen's tails.
II
'Twas when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was pitched an' ready,
That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below;
He dragged them all together by the horn an' hide an' feather,
An' all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go.
Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him sevarely,
An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av the Lord: --
"Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater ass that fed you --
Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen!" an' the Donkey went aboard.
But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas most onaisy sailin',
An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the stable air;
An' the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an' died in batches,
Till Noah said: -- "There's wan av us that hasn't paid his fare!"
For he heard a flusteration 'mid the bastes av all creation --
The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av whales;
An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to stop the shindy
The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin' their tails.
The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said umbrageous: --
"To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion?"
An' the Divil gave for answer: -- "Evict me if you can, sir,
For I came in wid the Donkey -- on Your Honour's invitation."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Legend Of Evil
I
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their neighbours' tails: --
"Our fathers lived in the forest,
Foolish people were they,
They went down to the cornland
To teach the farmers to play.
"Our fathers frisked in the millet,
Our fathers skipped in the wheat,
Our fathers hung from the branches,
Our fathers danced in the street.
"Then came the terrible farmers,
Nothing of play they knew,
Only. . .they caught our fathers
And set them to labour too!
"Set them to work in the cornland
With ploughs and sickles and flails,
Put them in mud-walled prisons
And -- cut off their beautiful tails!
"Now, we can watch our fathers,
Sullen and bowed and old,
Stooping over the millet,
Sharing the silly mould,
"Driving a foolish furrow,
Mending a muddy yoke,
Sleeping in mud-walled prisons,
Steeping their food in smoke.
"We may not speak to our fathers,
For if the farmers knew
They would come up to the forest
And set us to labour too."
This is the horrible story
Told as the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their kinsmen's tails.
II
'Twas when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was pitched an' ready,
That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below;
He dragged them all together by the horn an' hide an' feather,
An' all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go.
Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him sevarely,
An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av the Lord: --
"Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater ass that fed you --
Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen!" an' the Donkey went aboard.
But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas most onaisy sailin',
An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the stable air;
An' the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an' died in batches,
Till Noah said: -- "There's wan av us that hasn't paid his fare!"
For he heard a flusteration 'mid the bastes av all creation --
The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av whales;
An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to stop the shindy
The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin' their tails.
The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said umbrageous: --
"To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion?"
An' the Divil gave for answer: -- "Evict me if you can, sir,
For I came in wid the Donkey -- on Your Honour's invitation."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fathers Son
I am my fathers son
I never know when to shut up
I aint foolin no one
I am my fathers son
He raised me on his own
Love was the last thing he’s shown
But I don’t cry about him yet
I am my fathers clone
It’s 4 a.m. and I’m sneakin down
To the basement to get his last cigarette
Light it in the mirror and see my reflection
Of him, staring back at me
And I say to myself, he aint me
Thank god I’ve got my mama’s eyes
They’re what keep me inside
I aint foolin no one
I’m a mama’s boy
But I’m my fathers son
poem by Robbie Squires
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For Fathers On Father's Day
Seeing as Father's Day is drawing near
Prepare good fathers for the high chairs
Where to receive some genuine cheers
For how much they've truly cared
And for the time that they've shared
Doing the duties of sensitive fathers
Not like those men who are careless
Living their lives tough and heartless
Standing together let's not be scared
Of saying what should've been declared
Truth is there are some who are called fathers
Although they aren't doing the duty of fathers
Even though by name they are known to be
So far their fatherly duty is still yet to be seen
Father, if yesterday you were going your own ways
But today you become a father change your ways
Prepare to start taking on the duty of a father
Be aware this could mean it's time to work harder
With the woman whose child you are the father
Given that God has been the very first father
He has exemplified us of how to take care
In every way that we should live and share
Similar to how He does it for all
Even as ‘He maketh His sun to rise
On the evil and on the good,
And sendeth the rain on the just
And on the unjust (Matt5: 45) '
I will say three cheers due
Unto all the caring fathers
Though I wish every father
Good, bad or unlikable
Happy Father's Day!
All right reserved
poem by Clarence Prince
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Dreams Of Our Fathers
Oh, Im choking, Im choking
On the smoke from this burning house
I claw and I scrape
But I cant seem to get out
But who then, who is this
Thats scratching from the ground
Oh, its my world, too
But whose gold is this Im digging out?
When we go, where we go
When were dead
Is the verdict still out?
Do we get into line
To line up with those long dead now?
With the muffled tears of sorrow
Bones underground
Is this time our time?
Yes, it is
Without or with this shadow of doubt
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a waste child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
Must be the dreams of our fathers
I wanna go, I wanna run
We turn, so sure someones looking down
Its haunting me, haunting me
Leaves us here to get out
Though I dont believe, I dont believe
This flavor in my mouth
Is from my tongue alone
So bitter I wanna spit it out
I repeat these words
They come out
Under the blue light in the sky
My empty pages are filling up
With these wicked lies
But I hear deep in myself
An echo, an echo
Of empty, empty emptiness
Comes up and swells inside
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a waste child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
Rain on my head
Rain on my head
Rain on me
And then give me air
Rain on my love
Again and again
Why cant I dream you away from me?
Look here, look here
Bloated, floating
Go belly down
Belly up in the water
But who is this here thats drowned?
We followed a drunken man
He got us all spinning round
But its like he swallowed himself
And didnt leave us a way out
I dont want to wake up
Lost in the dreams of our fathers
Oh, its such a shame child
To live and die for the dreams of our fathers
Though I must confess, yes
My view is a wonder about this
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the dreams of our fathers
This love I possess, love
It must be the love of our fathers
The dreams
The dreams
The dreams
This love I possess love
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lord Has A Will
I need you lord; in all I do.
Youre always there to see me through.
I cant get by unless I lean on you, lord.
The lord has a will,
And I have a need
To follow that will,
To humbly be still,
To rest in it,
Nest in it,
Fully be blessed in it,
Following my fathers will.
Your love, lord, is in my heart.
You wrote it there; it wont depart.
It lights my way and keeps me out of the dark.
The lord has a will,
And I have a need
To follow that will,
To humbly be still,
To rest in it,
Nest in it,
Fully be blessed in it,
Following my fathers will.
I thank you, lord, your word is sown
Into my life, and there its grown;
Its roots go deep where living waters are known.
The lord has a will,
And I have a need
To follow that will,
To humbly be still,
To rest in it,
Nest in it,
Fully be blessed in it,
Following my fathers will.
The lord has a will,
And I have a need
To follow that will,
To humbly be still,
To rest in it,
Nest in it,
Fully be blessed in it,
Following my fathers will.
To rest in it,
Nest in it,
Fully be blessed in it,
Following my fathers will.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The land of my fathers. My fathers can have it.
quote by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Generation
Our generation
Our fathers' heirs,
We now inherit what they once called theirs.
The Crime, the Poverty,
The Guilt, the Hate;
But is it too late to recreate?
A time existing long ago
When our fathers made the things we now know as home.
Our generation
Our fathers' heirs,
We must now fix what they once called theirs.
The Crime, the Poverty,
The Guilt, the Hate;
But is it too late to recreate?
A people just like you and me,
Who tried to help the world so destructively.
Our generation
Our fathers' gem,
We have no choice,
We are now them.
For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better than their fathers.
Oft saw my dad cry (to dad)
A father's love
Can never match
A mother's…
At least in
Children's eyes…
A father's love
Cannot be shown
As easily
As in
a mother's sighs
A father's love
Is of labor dear
More distant so by nature
than… in tender
nurture lies
A father's love
Is of hidden tears
And rarely
Shown raw
emotions
Held within
A rough façade
Of gentle heart…
Of kind and
Cloistered emotions
Fathers withhold
Within themselves
Caring feelings (and memories)
Of small smiles
And big wide eyes
Fathers hold back
Tears inside while…
drying other's eyes
Yet fathers weep Inside,
so deep…most children
Know not why
And more than once
I caught a peek of tears
In my dad's eyes
And on his cheek
Fathers are …
of stern stuff made
Yet fathers
…Often cry…
poem by David Whalen
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Mamas Got A Lover
Mamas got a lover
A painter I am told
Shes getting out of real estate
For the art scene down in old soho
Art scene down in old soho
Mamas got a lover
He owns a gallery
She says he likes collages but
The moneys in graffiti
Moneys in graffiti
Mamas got a lover
I met him yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Maybe Ill send him a card on fathers day
Fathers day
Mamas got a lover
Theyre backing a film
Its about a working mother
Who gives birth to black and white siamese twins
Black and white siamese twins
Mamas got a lover
Hes got something to say
He says hes into dirt and rot
The essence of urban decay
Urban decay
Mamas got a lover
We met yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Ill send him a card on fathers day
On fathers day
Mamas got a lover
I met him yesterday
Shes starting a new chapter
I wish she was on the last page
The last page
Mamas got a lover
We met yesterday
She says she hopes I like him
Ill send him a card on fathers day
Fathers day
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover), oh
Mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
My mamas got a lover (mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
(mamas got a lover)
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Corner Stone (For Father's Day)
The father is the source of strength of his family.
He can weather storm in order to protect them.
He will endure rain or shine to provide his love ones.
He is always ready to give his support and guidance all the time.
The father is consistent for his duty and love for the family.
He can move mountains and shy away the temptation.
He gives himself fully to his family with love and devotion.
Children who have a father to guide them are blessed from heaven.
A husband is a gift for his wife and siblings.
The fathers may look tough in the outside yet so soft inside.
His happiness is to see his family well provided.
He sacrifices his own needs for the sake of his family.
Fathers may mean sometimes but his heart is bleeding for his child.
Fathers are the makers of what we become.
Fathers are always there to lend a helping hand.
Fathers sometimes misunderstood of his wisdom not knowing the meaning.
Fathers are gifted to be strong and stable, firm and durable as the homes foundation.
The father is the source of life itself as we become a family.
A home with out a father can not be a family at all.
A child is lucky who have a father's love and care.
A mother is blessed to have her partner and companion in life.
A house is not a home with out the foundation.
A family is blissful when love abounds.
God bless the fathers that honor his love for his family.
And for whom who remain faithful in their vows of love and devotion.
poem by Emelita C. Smith
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Healing The Family Tree
for you to let me know
that i must pay for all that the family owed
from the past
the suffering souls of my great fathers
and fathers of my fathers
and their mothers
i am sorry but i was not the one
that committed the blunder
that is their business and mine is different
look at me
have i not suffered enough to deserve all these
genetic retaliations?
hold my hands
don't you feel that all these tremblings
in fear
are not enough to pay for their
misdeeds?
your paranoia is mine too.
but somehow, all these must be stopped.
the wombs of our mothers are tested with pain
one leg to life the other held by death
yet they walk this valley of death without question
they breathe your air without suspicion
they live the way they ought to
and they die
without much ado.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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World’s Greatest Dad
Every child has a father or even did
I call not all men, fathers
Fathers are great orchestrators of good deeds
Valiant in all things though overwhelmed by a myriad
Standing their grounds despite the mountains
Supermen in the eyes of their children
Over-comers of all our childhood greatest fears
Claustrophobic when alone yet a resurge when he nears
Dad is my all time hero!
By him none ever bullied me
“My dad will beat you and your dad”, always I told them
That made them cringed and winced at the thought
They took courage in theirs
“My dad is bigger and stronger” I always said.
I love you daddy!
poem by Nicholas Boateng
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The lord of Catchers-Can
In the isles of a gutter
in the dim-lit graveyard of a church
a man must walk forever
with a beggars bowl in hand
and succumb to all the weather
a man can understand.
(The lord of Catchers-Can
Is both a shepherd and a man
from a palm of dust he fathers the waters of the land.
And hails the wheat and barley to fall or stand…)
Into these storm drains of heaven
a dream was washed away
like the rains of yesterday.
A holy man sojourning for a little while came
and then was gone!
Where no earthly vanities belong…
And blessed us in one name!
In the light of the eternal flame!
All sinners the same!
(The lord of Catchers-Can
Is both a shepherd and a man
from a palm of dust he fathers the waters of the land.
And hails the wheat and barley to fall or stand…)
It’s here I’ve heard it said
We pay for the eyes of the dead
In the living hearts and souls left
To do our living, to do our living when were dead!
So take my hand,
And-let-us-all-understand,
The ways of the lord are yours and mine to command,
For every child, women or a man!
The lord of Catchers-Can
Is both a shepherd and a man
from a palm of dust he fathers the waters of the land.
And hails the wheat and barley to fall and stand…)
poem by Mark Heathcote
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