Grandpa's Wish
Oh I wonder when you wished your wish,
On behalf of your name's sake.
That a child would come and carry on,
Your name that follows Jake.
Oh patriarch you fathered a son,
And so heir one came to be.
Son heir one fathered him a son,
And heir two made Anderson three.
Oh I wonder when you wished your wish,
For another son to be bore.
To preserve the name you proudly bare,
With generations of men times four.
Only God thus knows if such a day comes,
When our name will cease to be.
But for now your legacy doth carry on;
Wish granted! Come see heir number three.
poem by Joseph M Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Heir Apparent
I came back to my old city
With fierce determination
And I couldnt find my way out of the station
Its all changed
You were there
Departing, starting
A trek I had once took
With that no-ones gonna stop me when I feel this way look
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
I fell down in my old city
Such sad degradation
So I tried to make my way back to the station
You were still there
Gleaming and leaving
Wide-eyed and awestruck
Saying how can anybody hate me
If I love them first off ?
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
But you may be ok, I dont know
Ill see you back here
In a few bruised years
Pray
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You say that you want it, Im sure that youll get it
Theyll seduce your heart and then theyll slap your arse
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Soon Is Now?
I am the son, I am the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
I am the son, I am the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
Im the son and heir of nothing in particular
Chorus
There is a club if youd like to go
You could meet someone who really loves you
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home and you cry and you want to die
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Soon Is Now
I am the son,
and, the heir.
Of a shyness that was criminally vulgar.
Son, and heir.
Of nothing in particular.
Oh, shut your mouth.
How can you say,
I go about things the wrong way?
Im human and I need to be loved,
like everyone,
like everyone does.
I am the son,
and, the heir.
Of a shyness that was criminally vulgar.
Son, and heir.
Of nothing in particular.
Of nothing in particular at all.
And you say its gonna happen now.
When exactly do you mean?
Ive already waited to long,
and all my hope is gone.
Theres a club if youd like to go.
You might meet someone,
who really loves you.
So you go on your own,
and leave on your own,
and you go home,
and you cry and you wanna die
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'm the heir apparent to the heir presumptive.
quote by Princess Margaret
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Soon Is Now ?
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way ?
I am human and i need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Oh, of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way ?
I am human and i need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
Oh ...
Oh ...
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home, and you cry
And you want to die
When you say it's gonna happen "now"
Well, when exactly do you mean ?
See, i've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
Oh ...
Oh ...
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way ?
I am human and i need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
Ok ?
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Soon Is Now?
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How dare you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How dare you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
Theres a club if youd like to go you
Could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own and
You leave on your own and you go home,
And you cry and you want to die.
When you say its gonna happen now,
When exactly do you mean? see Ive already
Waited too long and all my hope is gone
You shut your mouth
How dare you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
song performed by by Tatu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Heir
The yoke of bandage and the children of the desolate,
Cast out the bonbwoman and her son!
For the children of she who has a husband will,
Have a son as the heir on the thrown! !
The south wind blew like the seed of the chosen one,
And i hope to see you soon by my kinsmen;
But do rescue the free woman as the sign of hope.
Of the danger met at sea and of the armour of light!
Peace is the mind at rest as compared to a wide open mouth;
For the farmer ought to sow in hope.
Asia, Bithyna, the Metropolis and the Adriatic Sea!
You are puffed up with pride without the heir;
But the farmer ought to sow in hope.
Man came from the clay and woman came from man,
But the heir is already noted among the children of women;
And the day comes when the bloom of your flowers will be exposed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The King Must Marry
I just know that there is something sweet out there,
And i am sure you are the one for me;
The King must marry inorder to produce the heir.
The love of cultural upheavals to a game,
Like the ardent exponent;
But, who is ready to marry the King?
A frenetic development,
Of the lethal product of an act to gain;
A prime love to see is on this game where,
The King must surely marry to produce the heir.
The act of primitive power,
The King must marry;
Like the reconnection of an act with a golden touch.
Act, love, recommendations;
The King has to marry in order to produce an heir.
A golden move,
A golden love,
Battling the words out of his mouth to marry;
The heir is what matters so,
He cannot bawl private matters through a looked door.
Battling navigations,
Battling love,
Battling words to look for a lover;
You may laugh mirthlessly but,
He is not bidding for a prime cow.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'Heir of all things
To Him everything shall be given
Things on earth and things in heaven.
The Son is the rightful heir of all things
He is the Lord of lords and King of kings.
For God has spoken to us in these last days
and throughout the universe displays
in majestic splendour His power and might
so that all men may behold the wondrous sight
and know that the Christ of whom angels sing
is the One and Only Heir of Everything.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Heir
My father is my father
I am his heir
I am in my father's house
I am fair.
My father is my father
And I am in full power.
My father is my father
I am his heir
I am not as mad as a hare
I like peace and
I do not like war.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Ballad of Gentleness
The firste stock-father of gentleness,
What man desireth gentle for to be,
Must follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,
Virtue to love, and vices for to flee;
For unto virtue longeth dignity,
And not the reverse, safely dare I deem,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.
This firste stock was full of righteousness,
True of his word, sober, pious, and free,
Clean of his ghost, and loved business,
Against the vice of sloth, in honesty;
And, but his heir love virtue as did he,
He is not gentle, though he riche seem,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.
Vice may well be heir to old richess,
But there may no man, as men may well see,
Bequeath his heir his virtuous nobless;
That is appropried to no degree,
But to the first Father in majesty,
Which makes his heire him that doth him queme,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.
poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Son And Heir
A cute-faced cheetah cub rests there,
Oblivious and frail,
He's now a precious son and heir,
A firstborn fragile male...
Just skin and bones and not much more,
Yet as each year goes by,
He'll run so fast upon each paw
You'll think that he can fly!
He'll pick his moments just like those
That race across this land
And sometimes rest as if to pose,
As if to make a stand...
As if to say, he's learnt enough,
He needs no teacher now,
For he's been taught by hate and love
And all the fates allow...
So watch out, world! He bides his time,
One day, he'll rule supreme,
One day, the tallest trees he'll climb,
Though now that's just a dream...
This son and heir will do his best
And not just to survive,
He'll do it just because he's blessed,
To prosper and to thrive...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Son And Heir'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A muse on the past and future
Many who loved me are dead.
Many who I loved are dead.
Some who were dear and some
Who held me dear, elsewhere had gone.
I am pretty old, up with regrets.
I have an heir, who has no heir.
Who will leave first, wife or I?
How will the other digest that?
The connection made, collection stored,
And the recollection, what will happen to?
What is in store to suffer?
How safe I’ll die is the threat.
How horrible it’ll be is the threat.
A game is over; the mirth is over.
A hell or a heaven is the end.
Heaven and hell are same
As the liberated soul has no sense.
13.03.2001, Pmdi.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Executor
A Greedy Heir long waited to fulfill,
As his Executor, a Kinsman's Will;
And to himself his Age repeated o'er,
To his Infirmities still adding more;
And nicely kept th' Account of the expected Store:
When Death, at last, to either gave Release,
Making One's Pains, the Other's Longings cease:
Who to the Grave must decently convey,
Ere he Possession takes the kindred Clay,
Which in a Coach was plac'd, wherein he rides,
And so no Hearse, or following Train provides;
Rejecting Russel, who wou'd make the Charge
Of one dull tedious Day, so vastly Large.
When, at his Death, the humble Man declar'd,
He wished thus privately to be Interr'd.
And now, the Luggage moves in solemn State,
And what it wants in Number, gains in Weight.
The happy Heir can scarce contain his Joy,
Whilst sundry Musings do his Thoughts employ,
How he shalt act, now Every thing's his Own,
Where his Revenge, or Favour shall be shown;
Then recollecting, draws a counterfeited Groan.
The Avenues, and Gardens shall be chang'd,
Already he the Furniture has ranged.
To ransack secret Draw'rs his Phancy flies,
Nor can th' appearing Wealth his Mind suffice.
Thus he an Age runs o'er betwixt the Porch
Of his Friend's House, and the adjacent Church:
Whilst the slow Driver, who no reck'ning kept
Of what was left, indulging Nature, slept;
Till on a Bank, so high, the Wheel was borne
That in a Moment All must overturn:
Whilst the rich Heir now finds the giving Dead
Less weighty in his Gold, than in his Lead;
Which falling just on his contriving Breast,
Expell'd the Soul, leaving the corpse to rest
In the same Grave, intended for his Friend.
Then why shou'd We our Days in Wishes spend,
Which, e'er we see fulfill'd, are often at an End?
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Gift Of A Book To A Child
Child! do not throw this book about!
Refrain from the unholy pleasure
Of cutting all the pictures out!
Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.
Child, have you never heard it said
That you are heir to all the ages?
Why, then, your hands were never made
To tear these beautiful thick pages!
Your little hands were made to take
The better things and leave the worse ones:
They also may be used to shake
The Massive Paws of Elder Persons.
And when your prayers complete the day,
Darling, your little tiny hands
Were also made, I think, to pray
For men that lose their fairylands.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gentilesse
The firste stok, fader of gentilesse --
What man that desireth gentil for to be
Must folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresse
Vertu to love and vyces for to flee.
For unto vertu longeth dignitee
And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,
Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.
This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,
Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free,
Clene of his gost, and loved besinesse,
Ayeinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee;
And, but his heir love vertu as dide he,
He is noght gentil, thogh he riche seme,
Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.
Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse,
But ther may no man, as men may wel see,
Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse
(That is appropred unto no degree
But to the firste fader in magestee,
That maketh hem his heyres that him queme),
poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To Pandalam Prince
On the bank of Pampa river
Wails of a babe, heard Pandalam king Rajasekhar
Found You o' divine child with splendour
God's mercy to his fervent prayer
Rajasekhar accepted You to his throne, an heir
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa
Beads collared You are manikhanta; per
Mythology son of Hari and Har
Human but God yet given all academic lore
Grew well versed to be the king's saviour
To Your divine wisdom super
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa
Their own son the queen bore
For the king Manikhanta the son elder
Fate, innocent queen became bitter
Conspired with the currupt minister
Wanted her son to be the heir
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa
Fell sick, a fake stomach-ache, plotted a slaughter
Royal physician turned an accomplice there
Cunningly prescribed leopord's milk for her cure
Never did Ayyappa, You fear
Marched into the threatening woods afar
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa
You could simply hunt a leopord, Your vigour
Fetch its milk to Your mother, Your valour
A divine child of bold endeavour
Suited to be a warrior, king's heir
So do we wonder and utter
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa
Despite the protestations of Your foster-father
Bon expedition of Your bravery, Your lustre
Came with leopord and cubs Your venture
Into the Sabari hills did You though disappear
Devotees still hope You'll again appear
Saranam Ayyappa, saranam Ayyappa.
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father was the eldest son and the heir apparent, and he set the standard for being a Rockefeller very high, so every achievement was taken for granted and perfection was the norm.
quote by David Rockefeller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Orphan Maid
November's hail-cloud drifts away,
November's sunbeam wan
Looks coldly on the castle grey,
When forth comes Lady Anne.
The orphan by the oak was set,
Her arms, her feet, were bare;
The hail drops had not melted yet,
Amid her raven hair.
'And, dame,' she said, 'by all the ties
That child and mother know,
Aid one who never knew these joys,
Relieve an orphan's woe.'
The lady said, 'An orphan's state
Is hard and sad to bear;
Yet worse the widow'd mother's fate
Who mourns both lord and heir.
'Twelve times the rolling year has sped,
Since, when from vengeance wild
Of fierce Strathallan's Chief I fled
Forth's eddies whelm'd my child.'
'Twelve times the year its course has borne,'
The wandering maid replied;
'Since fishers on Saint Bridget's morn
Drew nets on Campsie side.
'Saint Bridget sent no scaly spoil;
An infant, wellnigh dead,
They saved, and rear'd in want and toil,
To beg from you her bred.'
That orphan maid the lady kiss'd,-—
'My husband's looks you bear;
Saint Bridget and her morn be bless'd!
You are his widow's heir.'
They've robed that maid, so poor and pale
In silk and sandals rare;
And pearls, for drops of frozen hail,
Are glistening in her hair.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When childhood dies, its corpses are called..?
what does child mean?
a miniature of yourself
a treasure to be loved
or a learning human
what does child mean?
a gift to be cared
a burden in your life
or a true friend
what does child mean?
a sacrificial lamb
a heir from family line
or his/her own future
what does child mean?
a natural born trouble
a sweet little angel
or just a mere child
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!