My Father
The memory of my father is wrapped up in
white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day at work.
Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits
out of his hat, he drew love from his small body,
and the rivers of his hands
overflowed with good deeds.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Related quotes
Magician
He said
You will look right into my eyes
Repeat every word that I say
You want some magic in your life
My love is the only way
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
His body moves behind my eyes
Obsession grows
Its a private show
Magic man with a sleight of hand
Disappearing right into my soul
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Hes here again
That magic man
My eyes wont turn away
Just like magnets pull me in
I cant forget his face
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Whoaa whoaa ohh
I walk right up and said
Take me take me take me
No pride no shame, enchanted
Call it a dream but dont wake me
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
No matter how fast he goes
Feels like slow motion
Hypnotize me frame by frame
Caught in my own dream paradise frozen
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaaa ohhh
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Final Wish For The Magician
between us and the magician
what do you find?
the ahs and ohs and omgs
it is his hands and it is our very own eyes betraying us,
we wish that all these miseries can be solved
with the use of the sleigh of his hands
we reflect once more when we are so silent
his hat giving birth to rabbits
his black baton turning into flowers
his handkerchiefs into butterflies
his newspaper folds turning into dollar bills
the magic does not really work
we take things as they are now
and we let him know at the end of the show
we wish that he'd disappear from our view.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Quiet Hands
Her work worn hands are quiet now.
Something I never thought to see
She used them so industriously
no idleness would she allow.
Except on Sundays, even then
she used her hands to underline.
The tales she told of Holy Men
from the Good Book she thought divine.
Although in fact she could not read
her versions were from memory.
She still held firmly to her creed.
Her brand of Christianity.
Which she expressed practically.
Not words but deeds her chosen way.
In the event of tragedy
she offered help without delay.
She will be missed by everyone
whose life she touched in some small way.
or all the acts of kindness done.
To other people every day
Her work worn hands lie quietly
in prayerful pose upon her breast
As mourners pass respectfully
to say farewell as they think best.
24-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Father Is A Retired Magician
(for ifa, p.t., & bisa)
my father is a retired magician
which accounts for my irregular behavior
everythin comes outta magic hats
or bottles wit no bottoms & parakeets
are as easy to get as a couple a rabbits
or 3 fifty cent pieces/ 1958
my daddy retired from magic & took
up another trade cuz this friend of mine
from the 3rd grade asked to be made white
on the spot
what cd any self-respectin colored american magician
do wit such a outlandish request/ cept
put all them razzamatazz hocus pocus zippity-do-dah
thingamajigs away cuz
colored chirren believin in magic
waz becomin politically dangerous for the race
& waznt nobody gonna be made white
on the spot just
from a clap of my daddy's hands
& the reason i'm so peculiar's
cuz i been studyin up on my daddy's technique
& everythin i do is magic these days
& it's very colored
very now you see it/ now you
dont mess wit me
i come from a family of retired
sorcerers/ active houngans & pennyante fortune tellers
wit 41 million spirits critturs & celestial bodies
on our side
i'll listen to yr problems
help wit yr career yr lover yr wanderin spouse
make yr grandma's stay in heaven more gratifyin
ease yr mother thru menopause & show yr son
how to clean his room
YES YES YES 3 wishes is all you get
scarlet ribbons for yr hair
benwa balls via hong kong
a miniature of machu picchu
all things are possible
but aint no colored magician in her right mind
gonna make you white
i mean
this is blk magic
you lookin at
& i'm fixin you up good/ fixin you up good n colored
& you gonna be colored all yr life
& you gonna love it/ bein colored/ all yr life/ colored & love it
love it/ bein colored/
Spell #7 from Upnorth-Outwest Geechee Jibara Quik Magic Trance Manual for Technologically Stressed Third World People
poem by Ntozake Shange
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Golden Truths
Who knows who lives for longer span?
The father, son, grand-father, man;
Prudence must be our guide on earth;
And temperance practiced from birth.
The road we choose is left to us;
We walk or run or go by bus;
The time we take is left to us;
God gives the freedom ev’n to fuss!
This world if bad is due to men;
Good words or bad come from same ken;
Good deeds or bad, the same hand does;
Some day one must ‘let out the pus’!
Most swear that they won’t sin again;
All sins will take you down wrong lane;
’Tis tough to kick off bad habits;
Virtues are nurtured in small bits.
Think well and you will understand;
Sin takes you to a foreign land:
The joy of which is just a dream-
A short-lived specter: then you scream.
The hard way round is best to take;
It never can become a fake;
Success will come and will not feign;
The joy of hard-work will remain.
poem by John Celes
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Give It Away
Give your love away is what they say
Give your heart to one is what you may
Give your love to him he'll stay
Give your body to no one father say
But of I feel I should I,
If I feel it's time could I
No, give your body to the lord and you shall stay purified should I
Why cant I give him my all I ask
Why cant I be his all I say
Why should I make him give me his life
If yet he doesn't have mine
Father says because his lust is cruel and he's a fool
I say father we're married were one
I'll give him my life because I only have one
. . . . . . .
I love you father but I must go,
Go to the towers of my love and tell him of ye
T love you father but I must
poem by Jordan Sampson
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The Allegories Of That Early Morning
one can
after a
time see
the dichotomy
of the body
& mind
the mind
has its own
territory
it grows its
own garden
plants its
own towers
of ivory
the body
constructs
its rivers
destroys the
fences
and demolishes
walls
in the mirror
you see a
face
and you are
carried
with so much
sympathy
the carriage
with a black horse
begins
to take the body
the mind is the
white horse
galloping in
a different
direction
the peace of your
world
depends on the
power of your hands
to whip and
caress
meanwhile the flowers
in your garden
bloom and wilt
the tower of ivory
begins to
shoot its light
against that
vast dark landscape
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Little Daughter
She drew
Mother and father
Brother and sister
And a rainbow
She drew
A tree and a root
A stone and a brook
And a rainbow
She drew
A house and a roof
A chimney and a sweeper
And a rainbow
She drew
A path and a step
A sound of a key
And a rainbow
She drew
A table and chairs
A meal and desert
And a rainbow
She drew
A bed and a lullaby
A good night kiss
And a rainbow
She drew
The night and a star
A Moon upon a star
And a rainbow
She drew
Mother and father
Sister and brother
And a rainbow
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fishing in Winter
A man staring at a small lake sees
His father cast light line out over
The willows.He's forgotten his
Father has been dead for two years
And the lake is where a blue fog
Rolls, and the sky could be, if it
Were black or blue or white,
The backdrop of all attention.
He wades out to join the father,
Following where the good strikes
Seem to lead.It's cold.The shape
Breath takes on a cold day is like
Anything else--a rise on a small lake,
The Oklahoma hills, blue scrub--
A shape already inside a shape,
Two songs, two breaths on the water.
poem by Ralph Burns
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Sitting With Gran.
Gran half blind stares at the sky.
Her snow-white hair bushes out
In an explosion of curls. I used
To sit here with you on my lap,
She says, and rocked you to sleep
While your mother went to the shops
Or off to work. You sit beside her
In your brand new suit and short cut hair,
Listening to her words as they hang in the air.
Your father was never much good at work
Or things that mattered, she says, knowing
He’d let her down, despite her brand of love
And concern. Don’t be like him, lad, be one
To be counted on, to be aware of others
Than yourself, don’t be blinded by self-love
Or what counts for you or your own
Small world. She looks at you with her blue
White eyes wherein a long ago world slowly dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Tea For Three
Hedley's mother had hairy legs.
That's one reason you liked to
go over for tea some days. That
and the fact she wore the kind
of short dress no other women
you knew would wear at least
not in front of minors like yourself
and Hedley. More tea? Cake?
she asked giving you the big smile
and oozing her perfume from her
nearby body. Yes more cake please
and are those salmon sandwiches?
Yes dear and there's plenty more
if you want she replied. She poured tea
and brought more cake and sandwiches
and sat down opposite you and said
how's your mother dear? Oh she's ok
you said gazing dumbly at Hedley's
mother and the way her hands moved
over the plates and held the teapot
with the red fingernails and the rings
on her fingers. Is your husband not here?
you asked. No he's away business calls
and such like she said giving you the smile
and bright eyes. Oh good glad he's got
plenty of work on you replied. Hedley ate
and drank and said little over tea. His
mother ate quite daintily her fingers
holding the cup with her little digit sticking
out as she drank. Ah she said suddenly
I forgot the jelly and ice-cream and off
she walked and you watched as she went.
Her hair legs really grabbed your attention.
Mothers huh? Hedley said. Keeping face
against the odds. Father's probably
screwing his female clients or staying
over in cheap hotels with the red-light girls.
Oh right you said guess some father's do.
Here's the jelly and ice cream Hedley's
mother said on her return hope you like it
she said I like it when it wobbles and the soft
taste on the tongue. Hedley said nothing and
nor did you. You were thinking of Hedley's father
and those cheap hotels and the girls he'd screw.
poem by Terry Collett
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If.... (A Man)
if i shed a tear,
and wrapped it in brown paper...
and left it on your pillow,
would you hear the ocean?
if i laid my body down,
and became the wind....
that blew out your candle,
would you hear my heart?
if i chose to die,
for one moment of living...
and gave it to you without regret,
would you fly for a moment?
and if i loved you,
enough to turn deserts into rivers...
enough to turn brown leaves to green,
would you listen, would you listen?
and if i touched you,
with hands of fire and storm...
and my tongue undressed your eyes,
would you see me... a man!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Father's Heart
A father's heart
is very strong
Can take life's hits
weather any storm
It takes the hurt
shares the pain
Wants only love
has nothing to gain
It swells with pride
at children's deeds
Works blindly on
to furnish every need
A father's heart
can also grow hard
A wrong not forgiven
stays with it so long
It takes a beating
yet continues on
Ready to give and get
forever long
A father's heart
is there waiting to receive
Its families love
That's all it needs
poem by Sr. Lawerence Mize
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Work That Body Rap Song = 2012
Drive my car wear my jewels
Make me feel like the king of fools.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
David loved Bathsheba, Samson loved Delilah
I love you and your name is Twyla.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life without love is empty and cruel
Without God's grace I remain a fool.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
After death I pray to go to Heaven
For I've been saved since I was eleven.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life can be short, life can be long
God sees all we do right or wrong.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Thank You for the Memory
My body tingles as I lay there still feeling your body wrapped around mine
I close my eyes and notice that there is nothing I can do but dream
For you have left me here with nothing but a memory
A memory of what we had what we were
A memory of nothing more at this time nothing to have to look forward to
My heart aches as I open my eyes and turn to see nothing but an empty bed
The scent of you makes me wonder what could have been
It makes me wonder what went so wrong
We had something that could never be replaced and not it has vanished right before my eyes
You think that the memory will be nothing more than a picture
They say “A memory will last a life time”
I say “A memory will only last a life time as long as you can keep it alive inside of your heart”
There is one thing that should be said
Thank You for the memory that will last me a lifetime of joy
~*Tosha*~
poem by Darkness Falls
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A Seduction: Stick-People Kissing
It was working late,
hours in that office together
the comfortableness;
the small talk
and the shared work.
You held my arm
to trace along the blackboard
the picture of the stick-people
we drew in the crowd.
So close.
You began to trace
two stick people
one kneeling
and the bubble over his head
said
'I love you.'
I said:
'What are you doing? '
You said: 'Don't talk to me
say it with the stick people.'
I drew my stick lady with a bubble
saying
'Are you talking to me? '
You drew and bubbled
'Must be, you the only
beautiful stick lady in this drawing.'
'Humm, ' I said,
need a little more than that.
Who's talking stick-man or you? '
'Of if you must know
stick-man is my wing-man
It is you
I love.'
I bubbled back
my stick-lady saying
'xxxx
hearts and kisses'
The next day in the conference room
on that blackboard
were two stick-people
arms wrapped around each other
kissing.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Rabbit
Rabbits, rabbits everywhere
Bigger than a rat
Smaller than a hare
Jump, hop in the grass
Eating carrots
Hoping fast
Rabbits, rabbits fluffy fur
Hunting season
They hustle and stir
Pointy ears, bushy tails
Wet nose
Hind legs down the trail
Rabbits, rabbits into holes
Time for bed
Bless their souls
Now all tucked in and put to sleep
No noise in the hole
Not even a peep
poem by TaBresha Bozeman
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My child is sick
In the middle of the night
She entered the shop
Where I work and she tells;
'My child is sick and cold outside
Could you please spare me a cardboard box.'
'Certainly I'll give you Madam!
If I am not inquisitive a small question,
Where's the child's father? '
'Since the first World war he never returned
And I heard he stays with Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, British King George V and Emperor Franz Josef of Austria-Hungary.'
I noticed she carefully wrapped her ragged-doll with an old paper
And kept in the box a plastic bottle as a pillow!
-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Let's Make Sandwiches
Lately, I've been hungry,
Starving to have my fill,
So let's make sandwiches.
All upset and angry,
Empty stomachs seem ill,
So let's make sandwiches.
If our tastes would agree,
I'd be ready to grill,
So let's make sandwiches.
We could enjoy our food,
The flavors we've pursued,
So let's make sandwiches.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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