It's no use
It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy
Related quotes
Blame Aphrodite
It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy
Sappho
tr. Barnard
Mother O My Dear Mother
Mother O my dear mother
Poetry of Lullaby and
Epic poem of Love
Affectionate long novel
Endlessly unfolds with emotions And you will never wish to finish
First Book of Love with verses and feelings
Everybody wants to read and write
Mother is the boon
God gave to the mankind
And mankind exists
Because of love and affection
Of Mother dear Mother.
poem by Kavin Charalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edward, Edward
'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Edward, Edward:
Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Some other evil ye fear, O.'
'O, I have killed my father dear,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my father dear,
Alas! and woe is me, O!'
'And what penance will ye suffer for that,
Edward, Edward?
And what penance will ye suffer for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mother, mother:
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
Mother, mother:
I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your children and your wife
When ye go over the sea, O?'
'The world is large, let them beg through life,
Mother, mother:
The world is large, let them beg throw life,
For them never more will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your own mother dear?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Mother, mother:
The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Such counsels you gave to me, O.'
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Goodbye Mother Dear
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Can you hold me close, can you hold me near?
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
Will you listen, listen to my words of fear?
Mother, I am inside your womb.
Mother, you hold the key.
Mother, is it too late, too soon?
Mother, what do you see?
I hear your heart beat, beat, beat,
It comforts me when I am asleep.
I feel your warmth, I feel your heat,
But mother dear, I feel you weep.
Mother, I am so full of fear.
Mother, I see it in your tear.
Mother, I know you cry and why.
Mother, I know we must say goodbye.
(if only you could let me grow
my love to you then i could show
but that i know cannot be so
the time has come for me to go)
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Do not feel guilt, do not feel fear.
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
For a while, you held me near.
© Morney Wilson
poem by Morney Wilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blame It On The Sun
(stevie wonder/syreeta wright)
Where has my love gone?
How can I go on?
It seems, dear
Love has gone away
Where is my spirit?
Im nowhere near it
Oh yes, my love has gone astray
But Ill blame it on the sun
The sun that didnt shine
Ill blame it on the wind and the trees
Ill blame it on the time
That never was enough
Ill blame it on the tide and the sea
But my heart blames it on me
Who poured the love out?
What made this bitter doubt?
Is peace not here for me to see?
Wish I could tell you what I am feeling
But words wont come for me to speak
Oh, Ill blame it on the sun
That didnt fill the sky
Ill blame it on the birds and the trees
Ill blame it on the day
That ended much too soon
Ill blame it on the nights
That could not be
But my heart blames it on me
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls who Die
Once upon a time there was a fly
A girl who in disguise always lay
None did know who she was
Her shape and identity she never dispose
While she flies cheerfully
To her misery begins her mystery
She encountered cupid and Aphrodite
And was shocked by love without treaty
She got one ray from cupid
Another from Aphrodite tossed
Her disguise she would unfold
She now loves without a sword
She gave him all her swords
Willing to hear and keep his sweet words
But what will words do
If his love did subdue
So dear girls who in their world usually fly
Don’t let words make your swords go by
For if they went none would deny
That you and your love will die
Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blame It On The Sun
Where has my love gone?
How can I go on?
It seems dear love has gone away.
Where is my spirit?
Im nowhere near it,
Oh yes, my love has gone astray.
But Ill blame it on the sun,
The sun that didnt shine,
Ill blame it on the wind and the trees.
Ill blame it on the time that never was enough,
Ill blame it on the tide and the sea,
But, my heart blames it on me.
Who poured the love out?
What made this bitter doubt?
Is peace not here for me to see?
Wish I could tell you,
But, words wont come for me to speak.
But Ill blame it on the sun,
That didnt fill the sky,
Ill blame it on the birds and the trees.
Ill blame it on the day that ended once too soon,
Ill blame it on the nights that could not be,
But, my heart blames it on me.
(background)...yeh, yeh, yeh, ooh,
Your heart blames it on you this time.
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ballade of Waiting
No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought
So rich as the arms of my love can be;
No gems with a lovelier lustre fraught
Than her eyes, when they answer me liquidly.
Dear lady of love, be kind to me
In days when the waters of hope abate,
And doubt like a shimmer on sand shall be,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.
Sweet mouth, that the wear of the world hath taught
No glitter of wile or traitorie,
More soft than a cloud in the sunset caught,
Or the heart of a crimson peony;
Oh turn not its beauty away from me;
To kiss it and cling to it early and late
Shall make sweet minutes of days that flee,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.
Rich hair, that a painter of old had sought
For the weaving of some soft phantasy,
Most fair when the streams of it run distraught
On the firm sweet shoulders yellowly;
Dear Lady, gather it close to me,
Weaving a nest for the double freight
Of cheeks and lips that are one and free,
For the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.
Envoi.
So time shall be swift till thou mate with me,
For love is mightiest next to fate,
And none shall be happier, Love, than we,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.
poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hera
I am Hera,
And you may know me
As the queen of the gods,
And as Zeus's wife.
Despite what they say about me,
I do not really like my husband,
For he is a real jerk.
I mean, he gives all this
Attention to other women,
And never gives any attention
To me.
It makes me mad,
And, of course, jealous,
Because I only have two children,
And one is a spoiled brat,
And the other walks with a freaking limp!
I mean, maybe I give
My husband to hard of a time,
But, truthfully, I can be reasonable;
And, yes, I am reasonable!
I listen to my husband,
And I am there when he needs me,
And I am there when he has problems.
But, I just wish he wasn't so selfish
And I wish he understood what
The true meaning of marriage was!
Sometimes, I feel like I want
To kill him,
But, of course, I cannot,
Even though my envy
Gets so high,
So I punish him through
Killing his bastard children.
Yes, I have smitten
A few humans in my lifetime,
As my husband smote many
Things in his lifetime,
As well,
And, yes, they were all his children.
I think I have killed so
Many that I have lost count,
But I do know that I killed
Hercules,
Had Paris killed,
Had Hector killed,
Maybe Theseus,
For I cannot remember,
Put my wrath on Jason,
And also my wrath
Onto Medea,
And I have also
Killed many other people.
Heck, I helped Troy
Fall to the ground,
For that is why it is no more,
Just because Paris thought
Aphrodite was more
Beautiful than I was.
I mean, come on,
Aphrodite may be beautiful,
But she is like a prostitute,
Sleeping around all the time,
And having fun while doing it, too.
I, on the other hand, do not
Do that,
For I am loyal to my
Husband, no matter what.
Oh, okay, you have me there;
I did cheat on him
Once in my life,
And I had that awful
Child with the limp,
And man,
I cannot stand it,
For I guess I was punished
By the Fates
For that,
After all.
But, still, I do not sleep
Around like Aphrodite does,
For she is a creep!
Dang, I hate her,
If anything.
So, yes,
Life is pretty
Unhappy with my husband,
But I do manage to trick him
Every once in a while,
For he can easily be seduced,
For he likes who I am
Whenever I come across him,
And I am the master of seduction,
So I take him to bed,
And he does everything I ask of him.
It is ingenious, I know, right?
Yeah, it works,
But life could still be better,
Even though I do have fun with
Trickery every once in a while.
I hope you all enjoy yourselves,
For I have some stuff
That I need to do,
And I will go to it.
Thank you so much,
And it was nice meeting you.
poem by James Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who is a Mother
Who is a Mother?
A mother is someone
soft and kind
Firm not harsh
Someone who is always
willing to give a listening ear.
Someone we cherish each
and everyday
Mothers are rare like
precious gems
Many have children
but few mother them.
Mothers unique
World around
Mother this day
celebrations abound.
Mother who dare goes by that name?
Only them that know, to nurture,
Care and understand.
Mothers near and far stand tall
Be you Aunt, Grandma or Mother dear
Mother – who is Mother here?
poem by Elaine Oxamendi Vicet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Colloquy: (For M. W.)
'When you get to Heaven, seek and find my boy.
Mother him!' 'Until you come?' 'I shall never come.
Earth was good enough for me who had all my joy
In my Love, my Light of home.
'But to him be given, in overflowing measure,
All the joys your Heaven can give if your God be just!
He, my boy slain in his youth to serve some mad king's pleasure
And his dreams and hopes in dust.'
'How shall I know him where so many boys are?
Multitudes and multitudes ever they increase.'
'Oh, my boy is young and tall, with bird-russet hair
And quiet eyes of peace.
'He who was killed in a quarrel not his own!
All his days he had good-will to his fellow-men.
Oh, your God is kind and just, shall He not atone
And the dark ways be made plain?
'Seek my son and find him, so he shall not miss
Me, his mother-comrade, through his length of days.'
'Oh, but he would turn from a strange woman's kiss
And ask where his mother delays.
'So be up and going for the way's not long!
God who kissed His Mother dear, a Babe in Nazareth,
Knows how they need mother-love, the dear and precious young,
In the new Life where is no Death.'
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Accuse
I blame my mother for the pain she caused us.I blame my mother for the cocaine she swallowed.I care enough, oh mother how I love you.I care enough to care, oh how i love you mother.
poem by Iesha Wilborn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Video Killed The Radio Star
I heard you on my wireless back in '52
Lying awake intent on tuning in on you
If I was young it didn't stop you coming through
Oh-a-oh
They took the credit for your second symphony
Rewritten by machine on new technology
And now I understand the supernova scene
Oh-a-oh
I met your children
Oh-a-oh
What did you tell them?
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far
Wow
And now we meet in an abandoned studio
You hear the playback and it seems so long ago
And you remember, the jingles used to go,
Oh-a-oh
You were the first one
Oh-a-oh
You were the last one
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Cause in my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far
To far!
Alright
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Cause in my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far
Pictures came and broke your heart
So put all the blame on VCR
You are the radio star
You are the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed that radio star yes it did
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unborn Child
She said to me:
Mother, do you love me?
Yes, my dear, I did say back
She said to me:
Mother, do you want me?
Yes, my love, I cried back
She said to me:
Mother, when and how?
I said to her:
Never ever dear,
only in my dreams,
You are here…
You are my wish
That may never come true
Thanks to the Man,
Who never wished to…
My daintiest darling,
looked at me,
and did ask me:
Who is it, Mother,
Who doesn’t want me?
Tell Him: being born of love,
I’ll only love, and love ever more,
Him and Thee, and this world for sure…
Tears streaming…
Heart wrenching out…
I said to her,
It is, your daddy dear,
Who doesn’t want you…
He loathes you, and loathes me too,
to make my dream ever come true.
So, my loveliest princess,
Let me cradle you…
hold you to my bosom,
and lovingly kiss you,
in my dreams…
The Reality is too harsh,
For you to be born…
So forgive me, my dear
You are mummy’s dream
That can never come true…
Thanks, to your daddy dear,
Who can never give you…
To Me.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work!
Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !
poem by Umasree Raghunath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, dear mother
Oh, dear mother
I lost my brother
He is alive and well
But as far as I can tell
To see me he has no desire
Oh, dear mother
My younger brother
I have to confess
Can care less
If nieces miss their uncle
Oh, dear mother
Please, tell my brother
He could be smart
But a life with no heart
Not a life, but a worst nightmare
Oh, dear mother
I love my brother
Dmitri, Dmitri
Nu chto ze ty pravo…
poem by Slava Olchevski
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Show Tune #4 I
You're the one
my heart dreams on
and I swear
that nightly bare
I want to see you
but if you say forget it, no way, hey,
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
If you said
'check your head
I think some parts are missing
I couldn't live
on what you give:
of huggin' and kissing'.
I wouldn't blame you if you do!
Then I might say, dear
riches' star
never shone my way, dear
and though you might be right, love
I can get new ones
when the war is over
So, I wouldn't blame you if you do!
So now you know
this old show
will soon be closing
and that fame
made my name
an anagram for nothing
I....
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Frostry Night
Mother: Alice, dear, what ails you,
Dazed and white and shaken?
Has the chill night numbed you?
Is it fright you have taken?
Alice: Mother I am very well,
I felt never better;
Mother, do not hold me so,
Let me write my letter.
Mother: Sweet, my dear, what ails you?
Alice: No, but I am well.
The night was cold and frosty,
There's no more to tell.
Mother: Ay, the night was frosty,
Coldly gaped the moon,
Yet the birds seemed twittering
Through green boughs of June.
Soft and thick the snow lay,
Stars danced in the sky.
Not all the lambs of May-day
Skip so bold and high.
Your feet were dancing, Alice,
Seemed to dance on air,
You looked a ghost or angel
In the starlight there.
Your eyes were frosted starlight,
Your heart, fire, and snow.
Who was it said 'I love you?'
Alice: Mother, let me go!
poem by Robert Graves
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