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Letter to my Father.

If I try to go back into the hands of time
I can't recall the first day of my life
But with care and affection from mom I grew up
With the passing of age to school I went

Father you made me go to school
You made me keen to be in class
And saintly made me take pen and paper
And painted my books with a the colours of my writing

I must apologise my father
Despite the years in class I am not a doctor
Nor a pilot or a lawyer or the teacher you intended
Because I got tired of the books
When I could not cook the answers
I walked out of school

But father do not scold me
Nor poor cold water on my path
Cool down your wrath and smile
I am a self made man of God
I run a multimillion church with a large flock
And I milk them well by the Bible fodder

Father I write this letter to you
Beseeching you to revoke your decision
Of banishing me when I dropped out of school
Because father,
I dine with the kings, date the queens
And I still preach to the emperors of the land

poem by Major Elazia
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A School Is So Not Cool

School Is Not So Cool

School, School, School,
A school is not cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it every day.
We can’t go on the grass
We can’t bother another class
We can’t save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
They have too many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have class work
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!

poem by Fahed Sharaf
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father, son, spirit

The father conceives his son
the son grows with his father
the spirit allows the heritage
Father, son, spirit. The father says sweet things to his son
the son is a rosebud to his father
the spirit remembers the instant of conception
Spirit, father, son. The father works, gladly
the son at school, learns much
the spirit, lovingly, joins them
Son, father, spirit The son makes his father, a good father
the union of father and son,
is the work of the spirit of love
Spirit, son, father.

poem by Teresa Gonzalez-Lee
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School Is Not So Cool

School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it everyday.
We cant go on the grass
We cant bother another class
We cant save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
They have to many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have classwork
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!

poem by Chantel Braatz
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Dear Father

Anderson / squire
(originally released in 1970 as a single, not included on time and a word)
Here are the books
Of luke
You*ll need them
To open the seed
To see what goes on in the world
You*re in my mind
Catch the wind and hold on tight
To what we*ll find
And hear what goes on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s anything you*d like to say
That could help me in any way
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long for you to come along
Help me on that day
When you*d take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know?
Is there anything before I go?
Dear father, i*m hungry, i*m cold
Dear father, feeling terribly old
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
They*re on their own
Needing their face, a place
Hope....home
To see what goes on in the world
They*re who you need
To show them why they*re wrong
Oh why indeed
We need to go on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s any complication
That you*d like to talk over with me about
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long
For you to come along
We can work it all out
When you take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know
Is there anything before I go
Dear father, you must be putting me on
Dear father, cause most of their minds are gone
Dear father, they will not understand me
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, can I give it a miss
Dear father, cause i*m not ready for this
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, won*t you leave me alone
Dear father, won*t you to let me go home
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
Dear father, won*t they crucify me
Dear father, I just couldn*t do that
Dear father, cause that*s not where it*s at now (hey)

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Father

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boys I Went To School With

We played football in the school yard and we swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow
And the boys I went to school with perhaps now looking gray
And many of them from the Homeland shore like me live far away.

Many of the boys I went to school with and that's going back more than four decades in time
Are now ageing grand fathers and years beyond their prime
And those legs that could move so quickly some forty years ago
Now feeling tired and heavy and their fastest pace is slow.

The boys I went to school with have known a better day
And that time takes care of everyone it would be fair to say
Our young years went too quickly and time just flitted by
And on looking back it seems like only yesterday when I was a school boy.

Some of the boys I went to school with to the grim reaper have gone
But life back in the old Hometown as usual carries on
And in the fields near Millstreet Town where the rank rushes grow
The Finnow on towards Drishane and the Blackwater flow.

Most of the boys I went to school with I have not seen for years
But for my fading memories I don't have any tears
We played football in the school yard and in Summer swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow.

poem by Francis Duggan
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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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School's out

Well we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin all that noise
'Cause they found new toys
Well we can't salute ya
Can't find a flag
If that don't suit ya
That's a drag

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces

No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks

Well we got no class
And we got no principles
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces

No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks

Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not go back at all

School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely.

poem by Killed Killa
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My School

The school I went to was the best
In Coimbatore town, in those days;
It gave me knowledge and life’s zest,
And made me wholesome, in much ways!

The school was built by Father Pat,
Near Puliakulam road grandly;
In Standard five, I firstly sat,
And loved my school very dearly!

My principal, Father Lawrence
Was strict with students, yet loved them;
My heart was full of reverence,
As every teacher was a gem!

With dedication, teachers taught;
All students got very good marks;
The mischief-makers were soon caught-
Although some were like giant sharks!

Each Monday morn, we wore a tie;
The Indian flag was hoisted then;
We sang the National Anthem high,
And marched to music like big men!

We had our drills, once in a way;
In evenings, we played some games;
And once a year, it was Sports-day!
Some naughty students used nick-names!

But in the class, we were perfect;
We had a desk each to keep books;
Our teachers told every defect;
The naughty ones were caught by looks!

My school-days were the best in life;
We learnt our lessons all by heart;
We never knew the world or strife;
The day arrived then to depart!

poem by John Celes
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The Wicked Postman

Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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My First Day At School(A Real Experience)

Oh, it came so fast like a speedy train,
in the month of heavy rain,
when the birds of joy just flew away,
and my heartbeat rose up each day.

the vacations were over and,
there was no more time to play in sand,
but of course you know what that was,
it was my school reopening day as it is.

That day morn when I woke up,
thought if i had a ever or hiccup,
lazy and unwilling, of course, of huss,
made it to the waiting bus.

As the speed of bus went high,
i sank back to the seat with a sigh,
at last whe i walked down to school,
i never knew to use what tool.

As my school came closer,
I became more more dozer,
but wait! now that at school i was,
noone knows the tension a girl has.

When i stepped in to my class,
My courage broke like a breaking glass,
but when i found out i wasn't alone,
and found news friends to adorn,
for first school became a heaven!

* when i was going on to my 5th class to a new school. of course i made a lot of friends and my shyness left me and i am now first at school

poem by Anjana Asok
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Butter in her mouth

Butter in her mouth
School time is just too over, waking up and ready for the school otherwise I will beat you bitterly.
He put off the bed sheet from my body, stretched my hand,
In addition, put me on my foot.
Tears came in my eyes then I went slowly and slowly to my mother in the kitchen,
I put my finger towards my father
And complained about the rude behavior of my father,
Who was asking him to go to the school?
She embraced me; kiss my fore head, and politely asking me to become ready to school because I have to be an officer by studying in the school.
Orders were the same.
Father orders me to wake up and to go to the school while he was having a stick in his hand.
Mother also orders him to go to the school having butter in her mouth.
(From the diary of an Indian)

poem by Vijay Gupta
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Authorship

You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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My father, My father

My father, my father,
I love he,
my father, my father,
made me see,
how beautiful this world really can be.
My father, my father,
said to me,
my daughter my daughter,
come see me,
I wont be around forever, and i have things that must be.
My father, my father,
dont die on me.

[I wrote this while my father was in the hospital, I'm sorry to say he never got to leave. R.I.P October 7,08.]

poem by Dakota Ellerton
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Come With Her

Come with her to the school graduation party
It is father and daughter dancing together
The last dance of the evening
And that is her school
Graduation party
She made it
She has her diploma now
A new life for
Her
Will start after the summer
It will be college time
There are tears and happiness
That fills the air
You can see in
Her class mates
That some are happy and others are sad
She will be a doctor
That is what she is planing to be
Life went fast
She is grown up now
Not a kid any more
Her family is proud of her
She finally said good bye to her teachers at the end of the evening
And left that place forever

poem by Aldo Kraas
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In Prayer to You

Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.

Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
For all that you've done for me.

In the early morning hours,
When I arise to greet the Sun...
I feel blessed and prepared,
With such gratefulness...
In prayer to You.
This I must do!

And when noon approaches...
No matter what I have done,
Before that time comes...
That may create a disturbance,
I did not invite nor did I make.
I find time to show it is You I appreciate.
In prayer to You.
This I must do!

Whether or not...
Thunder storms roar,
Or rain drops fall to pitter and pat.
Thank you, My Father
For all that You've done for me.
For all that you've done for me...
I thank You, My Father.

And at the oncoming of Sunset...
Not one moment do I forget,
The power of Your presence...
That showers the blessings,
From You I get!

Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
Thank You...
Father, Father, Father!
In prayer to You.
This I must do!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Weird At My School

1-2-3-4
My father lives in arabia
And I live right here at my school
I took his plane to columbia
So I could sail at my school(? ) *
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(3x)
My mothers glad that I am here
So she can visit my school
I cant believe shes so pretty
Im a son of a bitch at my school
Weird at my school(4x)
And my best friend, my cousin eleanor
She lives far away from the doors of my school
And often times, you know I fantasize
That I have sex with the nuns at my school
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(7x)
(transcribed by moses boole)
* : or so I could sell at my school (according to rhys henry mason)

song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teacher Love

My mother is

Home

Teacher...

Teacher is

School

Mother....

Father is

Home

Teacher...

Teacher is

School father...

Female or male...

Not differnet for

Love...

And Teaching....

Any thing fals...?

No problem....!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Take Me Home Oh Father

Take me home oh Father, take me home,
For I've wandered this land You made alone.

No one understood of what I am,
Wasn't loved it seemed by beast or man.

Take me home oh Father, take me home,
My lifes' work seems over for me now.

I have done all You have asked of me,
Oh Dear Father do You hear my plea?

Take me home oh Father, take me home,
The pain is more than one can bare.

Take me home oh Father take me home,
To a place You promised if You care.

Take me home oh Father if You would,
For all my life I've tried to do what's good.

Take me home oh Father my life is done,
All has ended please now take me to Your Son.

poem by Linda Winchell
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The End Of May

'Our governess is not in school,
So we may talk a bit;
Sit down upon this little stool,
Come, little Mary, sit:

'And, my dear playmate, tell me why
In dismal black you're drest?
Why does the tear stand in your eye?
With sobs why heaves your breast?

'When we're in grief, it gives relief
Our sorrows to impart;
When you've told why, my dear, you cry,
'Twill ease your little heart.'

'O, it is trouble very bad
Which causes me to weep;
All last night long we were so sad,
Not one of us could sleep.

'Beyond the seas my father went,
'Twas very long ago;
And he last week a letter sent
(I told you so, you know)

'That he was safe in Portsmouth bay,
And we should see him soon,
Either the latter end of May,
Or by the first of June.

'The end of May was yesterday,
We all expected him;
And in our best clothes we were dressed,
Susan, and I, and Jim.

'O how my poor dear mother smiled,
And clapped her hands for joy;
She said to me, 'Come here, my child,
And Susan, and my boy.

''Come all, and let us think,' said she,
'What we can do to please
Your father, for to-day will he
Come home from off the seas.

''That you have won, my dear young son,
A prize at school, we'll tell,
Because you can, my little man,
In writing all excel:

''And you have made a poem, nearly
All of your own invention:
Will not your father love you dearly
When this to him I mention?

''Your sister Mary, she can say
Your poetry by heart;
And to repeat your verses may
Be little Mary's part.

''Susan, for you, I'll say you do
Your needlework with care,
And stitch so true the wristbands new
Dear father's soon to wear!'

''O hark!' said James; 'I hear one speak;
'Tis like a seaman's voice.'-
Our mother gave a joyful shriek;
How did we all rejoice!

''My husband's come!' 'My father's here!'
But O, alas, it was not so;
It was not as we said:
A stranger seaman did appear,
On his rough cheek there stood a tear,
For he brought to us a tale of woe,-
Our father dear was dead.'

poem by Charles Lamb
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Letter to my Father.

Related quotes

A School Is So Not Cool

Father, son, spirit

School Is Not So Cool

Dear Father

Dear Father

The Boys I Went To School With

Father Of Night

School's out

My School

The Wicked Postman

My First Day At School(***A Real Experience***)

Butter in her mouth

Authorship

My father, My father

Come With Her

In Prayer to You

Weird At My School

Teacher Love

Take Me Home Oh Father

The End Of May

En.Citatepedia^®.ro

My First Day At School(A Real Experience)