A.Boikov, As often was in childhood... - transl.(rus.)
by Andrei Boikov
As often was in childhood,
That, when I fell to earth,
My mother said: 'You shoudn't, true,
Take care! Only blow! '
And she blew on my wounded knee,
This seemed as a perfect magic,
The pain went out slowly,
And further went we gayly.
The years passed. A lot of grief
They brought, my mother passed...
And life - was kicking, beating me,
No one wished blowing up.
But through the pain I scrawled wayward -
Through frenzy circling days.
And here my son is crying a lot:
'Mother! ' - on his knee's pain.
I take his wounded pawn and blow,
Trying to take off grief!
My son says: 'Thank you, Papa, now! '
And pain goes out of me...
poem by Lyudmila Purgina
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Related quotes
December, 1919
Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.
And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat
The drops refused to fall.
'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.
poem by Claude McKay
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Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee
Indian legislation's on the desk of the do right congressman
Now he don't know much about the issues so he picks up the phone
And asks the advice of the senator out in indian country
A darling of the energy companies their ripping off
What's left of the reservation
I learned the safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation
And the corporate bank
They're sending federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Deep in the earth
I said cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got these energy companies
Who want to take the land
And they got churches by the dozens
Trying to guide our hands
And turn our mother earth
Over to pollution war and greed
Well
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got the federal marshalls
We get the covert spies
We get the liars by fire
We get the fbi
They lie in court and get nailed
And still leonard peltier goes off to jail
(the bullets don't match the gun)
Bury my heart at wounded knee
An eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart at wounded knee
We got your murder and intimidation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
My girlfriend anna may
Talked about uranium
Her head was full of bullets
And her body dumped
The fbi cut off her hands
And told us she died of exposure
Yeah right
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Oh deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Talk about a revolution
We had the gold rush wars
Why didn't we learn to crawl?
And now our history gets written in a liar's scrawl
They tell me " honey you can still be an indian
Down at the y on saturday night''
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
And cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart
It was an eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart
Got your murder, murder, murder and intimidation
Bury me
Bury me
Bury me
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Version 2
To be free from the pain, suffering, crying, going through hell my pain has caused, no more pain meds to have the memories erased of me telling my friends i have knee pain and them not believing me erased and them never knowing i had pain put in its place and being renewed into a new body where i have no knee pain but i can only dream cause i know this will never happen and wishing i was free from it all
poem by Karate Girl
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Daddys Song
Years ago I knew a man
He was my mothers biggest fan
We used to walk beside the sea
And hed tell how my life would be
When I grew up to be a man
Years ago we used to play
He used to laugh when I ran away
But when I fell and hurt my knee
He used to come and comfort me
And the pain would go away
Years ago I knew a boy
He was his daddys pride and joy
But when the daddy went away
It was such a rainy day
That he brought out all his toys
Now the momma did explain
Trying to take away the pain
He just couldnt understand
That his father was not a man
And it all was just a game
Years have passed and so have i
Making it hard to cry
And if and when I have a son
Let it all be said and done
Let all that sadness pass him by
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain in my mind
Pain in my mind
Pain is what I go through,
Everyday
This pain fills me
Pain stuffed inside of me
Pain of stress on my life
You can feel the pain in my heart
I hide the pain behind the smile
I see myself in the past and I,
Dont want to return
I never knew how much pain,
cant hurt.
The memories of pain live,
on and on,
So much sadness in me
Years have passed,
Life begins again.
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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The death of losing your mother the pain is so bad it never goes away
The death of your mother the pain is so bad it never will go away. It's like the pain hunts you. There are no words that can describe the pain of losing your mother. written and Posted 10/21/09 In the memory of my mother Esther Feber Klaton Today is my mother's birthday.
poem by Susie Sunshine
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Hey MOM
Mother, just wanted to say,
I love you, I do care
Mother just wanted to ask,
Why you look so tired so weathered
Mother just wanted to know
How you make ends meet
Mother just wanted to tell
You are an angel and I’m blessed
Arjun Singh Kishtwaria
Mother you just made me see
The difference between want and a need
Mother why do you cry
When I see you happy when you smile
Mother why do you deny
The pain I gave and tears you cry
Mother I know deep in your eyes
A grief that lives and a child that cries.
Holding your fingers I’ve learnt to walk
Footprints you left is all I’ve to follow
I owe more than a life to you
For now wanna say. I miss U! ! !
poem by Arjun Kishtwaria
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Ali, You Are Here
It brought tears to me
I was unable to think free
How sad and tragic incident!
Hell for life and turning point
How come the plane crashes?
Nose dive and to the ground rushes
Bringing life to an end with death
Only providing chance to lay wreath
Oh, dear how to put words?
You have passed through pain and fallen backwards
It is his call and we have to abide
Otherwise how come he might have died!
I feel pain and anguish
It brought your life to end or point to finish
It passed off you mind as flash of light
In deed it might be a brave fight
Ali may not come back
You have to stage a comeback
Ali has put symbol behind
Give all the love and in her you find
She may speak through her eyes
Smile when find her papa flies
All that may invade her memory
Never make her to feel sorry
Wait for those moments to come back
So much is at risk and at stake
You got to bring on rail the carriage
You must feel courage and manage
No young mother may find it easy
Even though she may keep herself busy
All memories may invade at all the times
Leaving behind tale of grief sometimes
I wish almighty to give you courage
Ali may be revived in daughter’s age
She may bring back same scene again
Just to take away your tears and pain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A mother's story
'Can' you tell what is mother and her form?
Who reminds you doing thing's when you are wrong, , ,
Mother is the candle who burn herself;
to light our life
Mother hold you nine month's, with a pain and fights, , to bring you to the new life, , , , ,
Mother hids her pain from our life,
How the apple is cut by a knife
The apple cut and gives us tast, , , thats he feel her life is not wast,
Every one says that 'god' is best, , ,
But in my life my mother is best, , , , ,
I love you mother, , , , ,
poem by Ali Hussain
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The Little Girl's Song
Do not mind my crying, Papa, I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa, I am not shaking with fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is bideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Somebody else that you love, Papa,
Somebody else that you dearly love
Is weary, like me, because you're away.
Sometimes I see her lips tremble and move,
And I seem to know what they're going to say;
And every day, and all the long day,
I long to cry, 'Oh Mamma, Mamma,
When will Papa come back again?'
But before I can say it I see the pain
Creeping up on her white white cheek,
As the sweet sad sunshine creeps up the white wall,
And then I am sorry, and fear to speak;
And slowly the pain goes out of her cheek,
As the sad sweet sunshine goes from the wall.
Oh, I wish I were grown up wise and tall,
That I might throw my arms round her neck
And say, 'Dear Mamma, oh, what is it all
That I see and see and do not see
In your white white face all the livelong day?'
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Where were you going, Papa, Papa?
All this long while have you been on the sea?
When she looks as if she saw far away,
Is she thinking of you, and what does she see?
Are the white sails blowing,
And the blue men rowing,
And are you standing on the high deck
Where we saw you stand till the ship grew gray,
And we watched and watched till the ship was a speck,
And the dark came first to you, far away?
I wish I could see what she can see,
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Don't you remember, Papa, Papa,
How we used to sit by the fire, all three,
And she told me tales while I sat on her knee,
And heard the winter winds roar down the street,
And knock like men at the window pane,
And the louder they roared, oh, it seemed more sweet
To be warm and warm as we used to be,
Sitting at night by the fire, all three?
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Papa, I like to sit by the fire;
Why does she sit far away in the cold?
If I had but somebody wise and old,
That every day I might cry and say,
'Is she changed, do you think, or do I forget?
Was she always as white as she is to-day?
Did she never carry her head up higher?'
Papa, Papa, if I could but know!
Do you think her voice was always so low?
Did I always see what I seem to see
When I wake up at night and her pillow is wet?
You used to say her hair it was gold-
It looks like silver to me.
But still she tells the same tale that she told,
She sings the same songs when I sit on her knee,
And the house goes on as it went long ago,
When we lived together, all three.
Sometimes my heart seems to sink, Papa,
And I feel as if I could be happy no more.
Is she changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream she was brighter before?
She makes me remember my snowdrop, Papa,
That I forgot in thinking of you,
The sweetest snowdrop that ever I knew!
But I put it out of the sun and the rain:
It was green and white when I put it away,
It had one sweet bell and green leaves four;
It was green and white when I found it that day,
It had one pale bell and green leaves four,
But I was not glad of it any more.
Was it changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream it was brighter before?
Do not mind my crying, Papa,
I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa,
I am not shaking for fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is hideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The Years That Are No More
Fall and fall and fall the rain,
I know that life is such a pain.....
Some memory about my past, gone days,
Brings tears that fall and fall in pain.....
The days are gone and gone for good
Then why my heart still feels the pain?
The good happy time and sad, sad things,
The sharing of life and those bonds of pain
I see those thoughts, those feelings no more
Some time has passed and left the pain.....
The years are gone and are there no more
But there is that pain and pain and pain.....
poem by Amina Kamran
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When Mother Combed My Hair
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
Of childhood days, I long to be
Again the boy on bended knee,
With head a-bow, and drowsy smile
Hid in a mother's lap the while,
With tender touch and kindly care,
She bends above and combs my hair.
Ere threats of Time, or ghosts of cares
Had paled it to the hue it wears,
Its tangled threads of amber light
Fell o'er a forehead, fair and white,
That only knew the light caress
Of loving hands, or sudden press
Of kisses that were sifted there
The times when mother combed my hair.
But its last gleams of gold have slipped
Away; and Sorrow's manuscript
Is fashioned of the snowy brow--
So lined and underscored now
That you, to see it, scarce would guess
It e'er had felt the fond caress
Of loving lips, or known the care
Of those dear hands that combed my hair.
. . . . . . . .
I am so tired! Let me be
A moment at my mother's knee;
One moment--that I may forget
The trials waiting for me yet:
One moment free from every pain--
O! Mother! Comb my hair again!
And I will, oh, so humbly bow,
For I've a wife that combs it now.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Weep Not, My Wanton
WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe:
Fortune changèd made him so,
When he left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies:
Thus he grieved in every part,Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept;
Mother cried, baby lept;
More he crowed, more we cried;
Nature could not sorrow hide.
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss;
For he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
poem by Robert Greene
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Menaphon: Sephesta's Song to her Child
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
-
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
-
Father's sorrow, father's joy;
-
When thy father first did see
-
Such a boy by him and me,
-
He was glad, I was woe,
-
Fortune changed made him so,
-
When he left his pretty boy
-
Last his sorrow, first his joy.
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
-
Streaming tears that never stint,
-
Like pearl-drops from a flint,
-
Fell by course from his eyes,
-
That one another's place supplies;
-
Thus he griev'd in every part,
-
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
-
When he left his pretty boy,
-
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
-
The wanton smil'd, father wept,
-
Mother cried, baby leapt;
-
More he crow'd, more he cried,
-
Nature could not sorrow hide:
-
He must go, he must kiss
-
Child and mother, baby bless,
-
For he left his pretty boy,
-
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
-
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
-
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
poem by Robert Greene
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A Daughter's Wish
I wish I had a mother,
That would love me the way she should.
I wish I had a mother,
To accept me for who I am.
I wish I had a mother,
Who wouldn’t belittle me the way she does.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would trust me some of the time.
I wish I had a mother,
That would listen to me when I’m in pain.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would trust me just abit.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would help me when I asked.
I wish I had a mother,
Who didn’t criticize me the way she does.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would understand the pain she’s caused
I wish I had a mother,
Who didn’t have to be right all the time.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would see the good that I’ve done.
I wish I had a mother,
Who wouldn’t make me beg for her love.
poem by A.M. Belsey
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The Pain I Can Control
The pain I can control
The pain that makes me whole
The pain that stops and brings some tears
The pain that erases all my fears
The pain that I inflict with this knife
The pain that might be last in my life
The pain that brought me to my knees
The pain that woahed me full of pleas
The pain that made me see the light
The pain that is bringing me home tonight
The pain that is wrong and bitter
The pain that makes me feel fitter
The pain that my friends say is wrong
The pain that makes me feel so strong
The pain that makes my friend sad, and cry
The pain that makes her want to die
The pain thats not just pain to me
The pain that makes everyone see
The pain that thats tearing me apart
The pain thats ripping apart my heart
The pain that I'm addicted to
The pain I can't give up. Not even for you..
Mother Advice
Mother used to say
'what comes easy goes easy'.
I used to hear it
but never believed it could be true
Always thought that what comes from heart
Never goes easy, ,
But the life is the greates shcool
That makes us
Live it
Above our own skins
And Feel the pain
To Learn it
Oh, mother I learned
All that you have said
Were pretty true
Just I had learnd them over my own skin
Lived the pain and
I Had to pay a lot
To learn that mother never told me lies
But it took from me a lot to learn
'mother advice'
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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0012 Bereavement
What is it, when we mourn and grieve and cry
for those we loved - and love - now passed away,
that gives our pain such brute totality?
so vital, that we almost love that pain
(our faces sometimes radiant in grief) ,
unwilling to let go pain's absolute,
since there, hides knowledge deeper than belief
of that sole absolute itself, the root
of all our being, oneness that we share
with those with whom we sought our selves to prove?
that pain, which barely differs from a prayer
to know - by suffering deepest hurt of love:
Yes! Let us dive into that holy deep
of total grief and love: then, can self weep?
(2001)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Pain Pain by cedrick dennis
Pain Pain over here pain over there Pain in my heart pain in my soul Pain in my mind Pain in my skin pain in my bones Pain being caused left and right Pain being caused till the heart bleeds red Pain being caused till the skin and bone rip Pain being caused till you break into tears Pain at school Pain at home Pain in my head, pain in my heart Pain in my mind, pain in my soul Pain happening in my sleep Pain happening in my thoughts Pain happening when I’m alone Pain happening in the shower, in my room, in my bed, in my house where I’m all alone Pain happening every hour, every minute, every second of my life Pain caused by anger and hate Pain caused by hurt Pain caused by greed Pain caused by sorrow and depression Pain caused by grief and confusion Pain caused by your family and friends Pain caused by the world Pain caused by people you love Pain driving me crazy Causing me to take pills till it fills up my veins I go to sleep never to wake up and see that light The light that will end my pain for good
poem by Cedrick Dennis
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Mom
Mom
The pain you have caused needs to stop
And it will stop, very easily will it stop
I don’t want you nor need you in my life
Do you not think you have cause enough?
Enough to the heart and to the soul.
So this is my goodbye.
I am tired of crying and all the pain
You caused all of this
Mom
You are not supposed to be my friend
You are not supposed to be someone there
You are my mother
What did I do to deserve a mother like you?
You don’t care
If you did you would come visit me
Instead of paying to kill your child
I cannot believe you did this to me
Mom
What kind of mother are you
Killing your child
Why didn’t you kill me then
Why didn't you give me up?
I do not know what to think about everything
As a child I have been through a lot.
Mom
Does it occure to you that a child shouldn't be going through this.
Years later AI am still broken
I hurt like hell
Yet you don't see it.
Wait a minute how could you see it
When you don't see me
Mom
Think about that
You do not see me
And you never will.
poem by Makayla Straight
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