A tale of Goodwill....
A family of four; parents, two sons;
Charlie the elder, young was Harrison.
Every blessing of World ' imagine,
Father provided keenly in abundant fashion.
But something tormented him from inside,
Peeled his flesh n blood, was Charlie (his son) his pride.
Dearest to him, was the upshot of his dreams;
But seemed aloof & angry with demands in extreme.
A connection suggested (father) to be friends with sons;
Will be on losing end, this gap is grave concern.
Thought of intervention towards younger son,
Forbade him to imitate, the child was Harrison.
One day he asked the younger one:
Spare sometime my dear son
Some interests to relate, define & renew
Share mundanely matters, or when u feel blue.
Feel free to tell me secrets, I am your friend
And father felt feather light, thought relations all mend.
That Young soul took advice by heart.
Green & unfledged, thought a friendly start.
But what to talk or tell, nothing came to mind;
Next day after school, Harrison skipped his play time,
And waited for his father's to come from work.
Sat along him, questioned nonsense irks.
Father answered few, but wasn't in a mood
Conversation was at sea, matters very crude.
Next day waited again
But still no hope, not much gain.
Without any clue started same discussion,
Pointless it was, knew result was concussion.
Never called for, two days in stack
Goodwill once volunteered, but hope taking aback.
Still with spirits though not very high,
Son waited third day, to meet his big guy.
Same clueless questions he had;
But Answer this time, hit deep and sad.
"Why too inquisitive & interrogative with me,
I am your father, not a proven guilty".
Son stood baffled, what to say ….
But friendship was confident enough to sneak away.
poem by Samima Shah
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Related quotes
Man’s Role
The elder son of each family
Jointly made a moral code
By which they must not eat
Each other and instead
They could live on their brothers and sisters,
Who are meant to serve them.
The elder sons of the family
Made it a law of their father
With no concern to their mother.
The mother was furious.
The time is not far to neglect
The elder son altogether.
[Father is the God, Mother is the Earth,
the elder brother is man, brother is animals and sister is vegetation]
15.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Imagine the World
Imagine the world ……………………….
Imagine the world without wars…
Imagine the world without your laws
Imagine your life without fear
Imagine your eyes without a tear
Imagine all men were real men
Imagine…imagine…imagine…
Imagine life without hate
Imagine you knew your own fate
Imagine all children were happy
Imagine all nations were free
What would life be like?
Imagine no-one were blind
Imagine all the woes behind
Imagine…….imagine……..imagine….
Imagi ne earth were flat
Imagine man without a heart
Imagine the day without light
Imagine the dark without the night
Imagine……….imagine……imagine……
Imagine faces without a smile
Imagine birds without a nightingale
Imagine …imagine…imagine
What would life be like?
poem by Bouche Cousue
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Light of Peace Vavroovahana Patra
Light of peace pervades in a lovely family;
All family members live gladly.
Love reigns in the family;
Parents live peacefully.
Flower of peace blooms in a good family;
Daughters and sons live gaily.
Obey the advices of parents daily;
With fraternity brothers live cheerfully.
Daughters regard parent’s advices silently;
Rose of love blossoms in the garden of family naturally.
All live beneath the veil of Divine mother;
Singing devotional songs live with pleasure.
Family is a school of education;
Is mother’s beauteous creation.
Education begins in the family;
Obeying parents, sons and daughters live pleasantly.
Peace provides fraternity;
Lovely daughters, sons live with gaiety.
Peaceful family is a Heaven on Earth;
All members live with mirth.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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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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One World One Family
let us enter
in a new world
a world
of no boundaries
a world
of no walls
a world
of no terror
a world
of no poverty
a world
of no weapons
one world
of one family
no countries
no politicians
no wars
just imagine
a paradise
let us awake
contribute
your self
for a
new world
of oneness
today you imagine
tomorrow you do
one by one
global awakening happens
one world
one family
happens one day
poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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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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Families
I have this family that loves me very much
I have this family that is way overprotecting
This family is overprotecting because they love me and don't want me to get hurt
This family is great because i am young and they watch to make sure i don't get hurt
My family sometimes make me mad but its life and its their jobs also
My family don't really want me dating yet because they din't want me to get hurt
So all my young ladies when your parent are being overprotecting they is doing it because they love you
So just relax and let your parents be parents
AND SHOW THEM THAT YOU UNDERSTAND AND LOVE THEM
Families! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Jessica Williams
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When you've grown sick of reading and bug-eyed from watching TV, when your friends are all visited out, no words can adequately praise the link to the outside world provided by your parents and family.
quote by Lance Loud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Grateful For The Parents I Had And Have
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PARENTS I HAD AND HAVE
I am grateful for the parents I had and have
They are still with me
I miss them
Sometimes they appear in my dreams
When I am walking I think of them
I see them at various ages of their lives
My father young tall strong
My mother smiling kind warm in strong middle age
My father bent on his way to the senior citizens
My mother in a wheelchair no longer even half herself
Or in the faded pictures of them in their youth
As I never saw them in life
I think of them and miss them
Their dreams their loves are in me
Yesterday I was with a great – grandchild of theirs
Who they never have seen or will see
How happy that smiling calm child would have made them
Life is difficult and long and filled with loss and blessing
How I will love and miss my parents always
How they still live in me
And hopefully in what comes after me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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His Present Peace
A peace the world does not afford, is granted to us by The Lord,
Peace which one cannot explain, given in the power of His Name,
The Lord and Savior from above, provides this peace I speak of,
An abundant peace to all of us, who in Christ, have put their trust.
The peace afforded all by Grace, sustains us in the darkest place,
Even through the darkest night, peace from God becomes a light.
And in the light of God’s Word, His Peace to us isn’t just inferred,
God’s Peace to us is guaranteed, for Christ Himself, has decreed.
God’s Peace, is offered to all of us, from the lips of Christ Jesus,
While in this world of tribulation, we have peace through Salvation,
When our trials, by men are ignored, we draw hope from The Lord,
Who, while darkness does increase, with His Light gives us peace.
Earthly things are often priced, but, not the Peace of Jesus Christ,
As its true worth is immeasurable, all provided by The Father’s will,
Provided by Him, absolutely free, to all believers, like you and me,
Transcending all we understand, while guided by our Father’s hand.
Christ’s Peace isn’t of this world; this is the victory we must herald,
For with His Peace there is hope, and His strength to help us cope,
When our trials seem not so right, to point all men to Christ’s Light,
As we live in the world’s uncertainty, with hearts at home in Eternity.
(Copyright ©01/2010)
Mothers Love
he relationship of a son towards both his parents is very complex. A son will likely feel a close bond with his mother, yet see his father as an adversary and competitor. When a son sees how his father interacts with his mother he will either attempt to model his father's behavior or reject his father's example of relationships with woman. From the parents' point of view, having a son can be one of the greatest joys they will ever experience but also one of the greatest challenges. Balancing the need to offer freedom to your son while placing appropriate boundaries may be an area of contention.
Source: Son Poems - Poems about Sons
Family
There's a child inside
A man inside
A woman inside
A sage inside
A mother inside with breasts of love
A father inside with hands of care
A child inside beautifully caressed
A mother inside with the wing of dove
A father inside the flight to share
A child inside with parents blessed
A sage inside with a peaceful face
The peace to bestow in all its grace
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Assurances
I need no assurances, I am a man who is preoccupied of his own soul;
I do not doubt that from under the feet and beside the hands and
face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant
of, calm and actual faces,
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in
any iota of the world,
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless,
in vain I try to think how limitless,
I do not doubt that the orbs and the systems of orbs play their
swift sports through the air on purpose, and that I shall one day
be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they,
I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on millions of years,
I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have
their exteriors, and that the eyesight has another eyesight, and
the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice,
I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are
provided for, and that the deaths of young women and the
deaths of little children are provided for,
(Did you think Life was so well provided for, and Death, the purport
of all Life, is not well provided for?)
I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of
them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has
gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points,
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen anywhere at any
time, is provided for in the inherences of things,
I do not think Life provides for all and for Time and Space, but I
believe Heavenly Death provides for all.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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If Not For Grace
So far from God’s original plan, this world governed by fallen man,
It is indeed a discouraging place; what would we do without Grace?
God’s Grace which is provided to all, those redeemed from the fall,
When God provided real hope to us, through His Son, Christ Jesus.
This world is filled with such discord, run by those without our Lord,
Filling many with hatred and strife, as evilness affects all in this life,
In a world where right seems wrong, a world where we don’t belong,
Believers simply cannot afford, to live one day apart from our Lord.
These ever increasing, darker times, create for many spiritual mines,
With many families falling apart, as young people, from God depart,
Seeing a love for God less and less, creating no peace but distress,
But, God’s Love that doesn’t cease, grants parents abundant peace.
Sometimes we just can’t understand, all of the evil plaguing our land,
Turning what’s wrong into right, and diminishing in hearts Godly light,
Affecting those closest to us, creating in them unbelief and mistrust,
For our God, who still reigns above, and sustains many by His Love.
As we, for God, run in life’s race, it’s not our strength, but His Grace,
That encourages our heavy heart, as God finishes, what He did start,
As The Lord Jesus will fully sustain, all believers in all trials and pain,
Through the Grace that God imparts, as needed to all trusting hearts.
(Copyright ©10/2009)
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Conservatives
Have you heard the word?
The revolution's over.
Now the anger's disappeared
And the rebels are much older.
And the schools and universities
Are turning out a brand new breed of young conservatives.
Get yourself a brand new scene,
Keep your collars white and clean,
It's time to come and join the young conservatives.
Revolution used to be cool,
But now it's out of fashion.
Politeness is the rule,
And not an angry young man's passion.
And they've used up all the alternatives,
And they're rushing down the street to join
The young conservatives.
Conservatives.
Ban the bomb, oh how contemporary,
In your parents' car.
Another chip off the block, is that all that you are?
Look at all the young conservatives
Hanging out in the bars.
It's got to stop before it goes to fa-fa-fa-fa-far.
Get yourself some new attire,
Set your sights a little higher,
You're going to join the young conservatives.
The establishment is winning,
Now the battle's nearly won.
The rebels are conforming,
See the father, now the sons.
All the urgency and energy
Have turned into complacency,
Now the schools and universities are turning out a
Brand new breed of young conservatives.
Conservatives.
Rebel, rebel found a cause,
Now it's hampstead not east end
And now he's such a well respected man.
The only action that you see
Is in the sunday times.
Content to sit in bed and read between the lines.
Rebel, rebel join the young conservatives.
Be a devil join the new conservatives.
It's a victory for order
Now they've beaten everyone.
The rebels are too old now,
And the young just want to be young.
All the urgency and energy
Have turned into complacency.
Now the schools and universities are turning out a
Brand new breed of young conservatives.
Conservatives.
Look at all the young conservatives.
Look at all the young conservatives.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Imagine
This came about because of the growing hatred level in my College
Imagine a world without anger or hate
Imagine bigotry, intolerance and racism become obsolete
Imagine a world without Heaven or Hell
Imagine a world without borders or possession
Imagine a world without hungry or murder
Imagine a world that isn't imaginary
Imagine an imaginary world materializing
Can you live without hate?
Can you live with love?
Can you live in peace?
Can you Metal Head, stand with hand with Juggalo?
Would you even let this world come to form?
Or would you let it remain an idea?
Imagine a world where we don't die waiting for care
Imagine a world where we don't kill each other for land
Imagine a world where we don't care about language
Imagine a world where we don't kill the children anymore
Can you live this way?
Would you want to?
Can you?
Would you?
Would you really?
I may be a dreamer, but I feel like the only one
poem by Electric Tripp
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of the Elder Son
A son of elder sons I am,
Whose boyhood days were cramped and scant,
Through ages of domestic sham
And family lies and family cant.
Come, elder brothers mine, and bring
Dull loads of care that you have won,
And gather round me while I sing
The ballad of the elder son.
’Twas Christ who spake in parables—
To picture man was his intent;
A simple tale He simply tells,
And He Himself makes no comment.
A morbid sympathy is felt
For prodigals—the selfish ones—
The crooked world has ever dealt
Unjustly by the elder sons.
The elder son on barren soil,
Where life is crude and lands are new,
Must share the father’s hardest toil,
And share the father’s troubles too.
With no child-thoughts to meet his own
His childhood is a lonely one:
The youth his father might have known
Is seldom for the eldest son.
It seems so strange, but fate is grim,
And Heaven’s ways are hard to track,
Though ten young scamps come after him
The rod falls heaviest on his back.
And, well I’ll say it might be caused
By a half-sense of injustice done—
That vague resentment parents feel
So oft towards the eldest son.
He, too, must bear the father’s name,
He loves his younger brother, too,
And feels the younger brother’s shame
As keenly as his parents do.
The mother’s prayers, the father’s curse,
The sister’s tears have all been done—
We seldom see in prose or verse
The prayers of the elder son.
But let me to the parable
With eyes on facts but fancy free;
And don’t belie me if I tell
The story as it seems to me—
For, mind, I do not mean to sneer
(I was religious when a child),
I wouldn’t be surprised to hear
That Christ himself had sometimes smiled.
A certain squatter had two sons
Up Canaan way some years ago.
The graft was hard on those old runs,
And it was hot and life was slow.
The younger brother coolly claimed
The portion that he hadn’t earned,
And sought the ‘life’ for which untamed
And high young spirits always yearned.
A year or so he knocked about,
And spent his cheques on girls and wine,
And, getting stony in the drought,
He took a job at herding swine,
And though he is a hog that swigs
And fools with girls till all is blue—
’Twas rather rough to shepherd pigs
And have to eat their tucker too.
“When he came to himself,” he said
(I take my Bible from the shelf:
There’s nothing like a feed of husks
To bring a young man to himself.
And when you’re done with wine and girls—
Right here a moral seems to shine—
And are hard up, you’ll find no pearls
Are cast by friends before your swine)—
When he came to himself, he said—
He reckoned pretty shrewdly, too—
‘The rousers in my father’s shed
‘Have got more grub than they can chew;
‘I’ve been a fool, but such is fate—
‘I guess I’ll talk the guv’nor round:
‘“I’ve acted cronk,” I’ll tell him straight;
‘(He’s had his time too, I’ll be bound).
‘I’ll tell him straight I’ve had my fling,
‘I’ll tell him “I’ve been on the beer,
‘“But put me on at anything,
‘“I’ll graft with any bounder here.”’
He rolled his swag and struck for home—
He was by this time pretty slim
And, when the old man saw him come—
Well, you know how he welcomed him.
They’ve brought the best robe in the house,
The ring, and killed the fatted calf,
And now they hold a grand carouse,
And eat and drink and dance and laugh:
And from the field the elder son—
Whose character is not admired—
Comes plodding home when work is done,
And very hot and very tired.
He asked the meaning of the sound
Of such unwonted revelry,
They said his brother had been ‘found’
(He’d found himself it seemed to me);
’Twas natural in the elder son
To take the thing a little hard
And brood on what was past and done
While standing outside in the yard.
Now he was hungry and knocked out
And would, if they had let him be,
Have rested and cooled down, no doubt,
And hugged his brother after tea,
And welcomed him and hugged his dad
And filled the wine cup to the brim—
But, just when he was feeling bad
The old man came and tackled him.
He well might say with bitter tears
While music swelled and flowed the wine—
‘Lo, I have served thee many years
‘Nor caused thee one grey hair of thine.
‘Whate’er thou bad’st me do I did
‘And for my brother made amends;
‘Thou never gavest me a kid
‘That I might make merry with my friends.’
(He was no honest clod and glum
Who could not trespass, sing nor dance—
He could be merry with a chum,
It seemed, if he had half a chance;
Perhaps, if further light we seek,
He knew—and herein lay the sting—
His brother would clear out next week
And promptly pop the robe and ring).
The father said, ‘The wandering one,
‘The lost is found, this son of mine,
‘But thou art always with me, son—
‘Thou knowest all I have is thine.’
(It seemed the best robe and the ring,
The love and fatted calf were not;
But this was just a little thing
The old man in his joy forgot.)
The father’s blindness in the house,
The mother’s fond and foolish way
Have caused no end of ancient rows
Right back to Cain and Abel’s day.
The world will blame the eldest born—
But—well, when all is said and done,
No coat has ever yet been worn
That had no colour more than one.
Oh! if I had the power to teach—
The strength for which my spirit craves—
The cant of parents I would preach
Who slave and make their children slaves.
For greed of gain, and that alone
Their youth they steal, their hearts they break
And then, the wretched misers moan—
‘We did it for our children’s sake.’
‘And all I have’—the paltry bribe
That he might slave contented yet
While envied by his selfish tribe
The birthright he might never get:
The worked-out farm and endless graft,
The mortgaged home, the barren run—
The heavy, hopeless overdraft—
The portion of the elder son.
He keeps his parents when they’re old,
He keeps a sister in distress,
His wife must work and care for them
And bear with all their pettishness.
The mother’s moan is ever heard,
And, whining for the worthless one,
She seldom has a kindly word
To say about her eldest son.
’Tis he, in spite of sneer and jibe,
Who stands the friend when others fail:
He bears the burdens of his tribe
And keeps his brother out of jail.
He lends the quid and pays the fine,
And for the family pride he smarts—
For reasons I cannot divine
They hate him in their heart of hearts.
A satire on this world of sin—
Where parents seldom understand—
That night the angels gathered in
The firstborn of that ancient land.
Perhaps they thought, in those old camps,
While suffering for the blow that fell,
They might have better spared the scamps
And Josephs that they loved so well.
Sometimes the Eldest takes the track
When things at home have got too bad—
He comes not crawling, canting back
To seek the blind side of his dad.
He always finds a knife and fork
And meat between on which to dine,
And, though he sometimes deals in pork,
You’ll never catch him herding swine.
The happy home, the overdraft,
His birthright and his prospects gay,
And likewise his share of the graft,
He leaves the rest to grab. And they—
Who’d always do the thing by halves,
If anything for him was done—
Would kill a score of fatted calves
To welcome home the eldest son.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My great Family
My parents are great as god
My brother mean more to me
more than my life.
My family will forever be in my heart
My family is more important than my friends
Family is family
Who allways with me in my happiness
and sadness
My family is allways in front of my Victory
not behind me
My family is who i can fully trust in this world.
my family is secret diary for me.
poem by Neethu Nandakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Easter Monday
(for A & J)
20 years since their father died
two grown-up sons
at his grave with a rake & a spade
the elder one recalls a boozy night
he fell asleep between the grave’s
short dense trimmed junipers
a pillow his obscure father’s stone
awoke freezing here 5 am
fog over the pond
where the younger brother bathed as a kid
fog over the graves along the slopes
they have no memories of their father
poem by Mikael Ejdemyr
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