Mom And Dad
If my Mom and Dad had not died
When I was young
What would my life have been like?
Would my Mom had showed me
How to use make-up;
And tell me, “not too much,
Or it will cake-up.”
What about the Father and Daughter dance;
Would my Dad had taken me,
If he had the chance.
I wonder if my Mom
Would have talked to me
About my little monthly friend;
And bring me a hot cup of tea
Every month that it began,
And let me lie in bed
With a warm heating pad.
Would my Dad had talked
To me about boys;
The one’s I should date,
The one’s to avoid.
I wonder what it would be like
To have living parents when you’re grown
Would your Mom still hold you;
And hum a happy song.
If you had a day
That didn’t go right;
Would your Dad take you out,
For a Father and Daughter night.
I wonder if I would have
Asked my Dad for money;
Would he just reach in his wallet,
And say “here you go honey.”
I wonder if my Mom and Dad
Would have cried at my first wedding.
What emotion at my divorce?
Cried at my second wedding.
At the birth of my child rejoice.
Would my Mom be in the room
When I had my first baby;
Would she had held my hand,
And said “it’s part of being a lady.”
If my parents had not died
When I was young;
Would they be proud of me?
What I grew-up to be.
Copyright © by Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Father You a Daughter
Sweetie, you know you are all I want in a mate,
Every time that I had ever needed in a lady;
No other can compare to your mystique so great,
So I want you to have my very next baby.
Bear my child, sweetheart...
Your beauty, strength, your grace, and intellect,
Brilliance beyond anyone I have ever known;
The spirit you have inspires me to pay respect
Every good woman and I want raise one of my own.
Bear my child, sweetheart...
Let me father you a daughter,
Knock you up and make us a baby girl;
Let me father you a daughter,
Go every night to bring her to the world.
I cannot resist you,
So bear my daughter, boo.
This child will be our legacy, but another you,
With your very enticing smile, sexy eyes;
I cannot wait to go all night making love to you
For a baby, sharing your joy between your thighs.
Carry my seed, baby...
Never will I part from you, keep it in overnight,
Ready to accept the amazing paternity of two;
A daughter with your way of thinking and life,
If tomorrow ends tonight, I must impregnate you.
Carry my seed, baby...
Let me father you a daughter,
Knock you up and make us a baby girl;
Let me father you a daughter,
Go every night to bring her to the world.
I cannot resist you,
So bear my daughter, boo.
They say the man must do all the work
If we really want to have a pretty little princess;
Baby, just lay back and let me work
Starting with your mind to all five senses.
Knock you up, sweetie...
Passion marks over spots I already licked,
Kisses trace each place my fingertips ran;
Battlefield Bedroom is the place to get some...
If love is war, then I will declare it much as I can.
Knock you up, sweetie...
Let me father you a daughter,
Knock you up and make us a baby girl;
Let me father you a daughter,
Go every night to bring her to the world.
I cannot resist you,
So bear my daughter, boo.
Bear my child, carry my seed, baby
To not knock you up would be crazy;
Such a dream of mine come true,
And I long to savor moments with you.
By far the finest from sole to crown,
I truly love to please you up and down;
To have you walking around with my child,
Makes the obstacles we faced worthwhile.
Let me father you a daughter,
Knock you up and make us a baby girl;
Let me father you a daughter,
Go every night to bring her to the world.
I cannot resist you,
So bear my daughter, boo.
poem by Sr. Lamar Ingraham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Religious Family
Sisters and brothers are one of those precious members
In the family. Their role is infinite.
They shock themselves with delight.
They read signs and play with them.
Their signs are obvious,
Useful to the parents,
Forcing action of the family.
Heaven can arrive around the bend,
When the families die and their hell is dismissed by God.
Mothers shall look forward to heaven, and their husbands
Are found too in heaven, or shall I say Paradise.
“My son is big at religion, ” says the father to his child.
For this prayer to be answered, the boy must be big, an adult.
His life at the moment has laws broken, the lawful one is not him.
For he is criminal in his action, in his life and love.
He spent a time with another person, and did not get married.
He did not like this now, and not seven times a week.
He must pray and be forgiven, would say God.
God loves the boy’s father, however, and thus the boy is forgiven
For he is big at religion.
The father has his prayer answered.
Afterwards, the father cries for his child as he has lost him to the elements.
The story is such that it makes us cry, and cry and cry.
To find the mother, we must find the father and his prayer.
We find she is forced to marry someone else
But the daughter is forced to object, due to her religion.
The daughter is confused and wants to know why this happens.
The mother blames the divorce on her son who adventured and died.
The father’s prayer was answered but his wife went astray,
and his daughter was too big at religion.
The daughter shall grow and grow to be a happy woman.
Both parents died due to cancer.
It means the average family would die in the ways of religion,
And not religion die in the ways of family.
poem by Naveed Akram
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When I Was Young I Cried
When I was young I cried when I was sad, when I was young I cried when I was happy, when I was young I cried when I wanted something, when I was young I cried when I was lonely, when I was young I cried when I had to say goodbye, when I was young I cried when my feelings were hurt, when I was young I cried when I wasn't accepted, when I was young I cried when I was mocked, when I was young I cried for attention, when I was young I cried when I was scared, when I was young I cried when I hurt others, when I was young I cried when I felt physical pain, when I was young I cried when I was jealous, when I was young I cried when I lost someone or when I was lost somewhere, when I was young I cried when I didn't know, and now as an adult I cry because I understand.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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She's Alive
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
Dre:
The year was 1975
That night crickets cried
They knew what was going down
Three girls travel a long country road
And one said she thinks it's time
This baby wants to come right now
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
Ms. B:
I was scufflin' going to school
I was scufflin' and working at night
And you know what?
I truly believe and that's why
I tell a lot of parents,
single parents
Don't tell me what God can't do!
I made sure you had...
I never felt like you should be
deprived of anything...
If a man didn't want to take care
of his child you move on,
and that's what I did, I moved on
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
A boy to raise at...at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
Ms. B:
He always wanted to be a father but
he never took care of you...
He had no money, he had nothing...
How could you care about somebody
and you never did the welfare of them?
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a drag but she's alive
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must -
And I knew I had to go down that
road by myself
She's alive
song performed by by Outkast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father And Daughter
Father and daughter spend some quiet time together in the living room
Shining through the curtain is the sun
And outside is the glorious afternoon
Father reads to his daughter the poetry she loves
Father and daughter enjoy each other's company
Father takes his daughter by the hand
As they take a walk outside
Father cares for his daughter
And always wishes the very best to happen for her
poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Died
She died,
And I saw the loved ones cried
Right on her mother's arms she slept,
And not a word she said when she left,
Or if at all to return.
I missed the way she walked;
How she talked.
And the mother, she's getting no younger,
Can she bring forth another daughter?
A daughter to soothe the pain
This daughter left behind her.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who That Soldier Is
Thats somebody's little boy out there
Getting shot at on the field
Thats somebody's baby
In more pain than anyone should feel
Thats somebody's daddy
Out there in the middle of the fight
Thats somebody's parent
Who will never get to kiss his daughter goodnight
Thats somebody's lover
Who will never get to tell her he loves her again
Thats somebody's husband
Her protector and her best friend
Thats a mother's son
Thats her pride and joy
Thats a father's favorite companion
Thats his little boy
And the soldier you see in the casket
Was very proud of what he was fighting for
But he'll never see his parents, wife or daughter again
Because he died protecting our country in the war
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay With Me
Vietnam was 66
Two best friends take a bad hit
And never saw it come
But its all there
One was a rich boy, a doctors son
The other the father of a girl age one
Never had the change to hold his daughters hand
New york flat in 76
Two girlfriends shoot a bad fix
Never woke up saw heaven before it saw them
One was a daughter of a prominent man
The other the mother of a girl age ten
Who walked in and saw mama sleeping in gods hands
And she cried
Chorus
Stay with me
Mama wont you stay here with me
You promised you would never leave
Stay with me
Oh wont you stay here with me
Mama, hold my had and stay with me
Years go by, the girls 23
Had a rough go, but shes on her feet
The man so rough
A few good years, a wedding ring
Wasnt enough to fulfill his dreams
He came home from work one day and said Im leaving you
She cried...
Chorus
Stay with me, honey
Wont you stay right here with me
You promised you would never leave
Stay with me, whoa whoa
Stay right here with me
Wont you hold my hand stay with me
Emergency room, number four
A woman cried out as the child is born
She stares into eyes and says
My lifes had its ups and downs
But for yours I will be around
I will always be around
And she cried
Chorus
Stay with me, whoa whoa
Wont you stay right here with me
I promise I will never leave
Stay with me, oh
Wont you stay right here with me
Child, you hold my had stay with me
Child, you hold my hand stay with me.
song performed by by Poison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Mother's Young Daughter
In the quiet alleyway in the dim moonlight
Some mother's young daughter she died over-night
From a drug overdose friendless and alone
Found in a disused factory doorway cold and lifeless as a stone.
She was only nineteen so young for one to die
When the cold winds of Winter blew across the darkened sky
With hardly any shelter to shield her from the cold
Some are born to die young some die gray and old.
Some broken hearted mother is in tears today
For her beautiful daughter who died in such a tragic way
The baby she gave birth to who suckled from her breast
'Tis not her fault she died in this way for her she did her best.
Some mother's young daughter in a morgue today
In a disused factory doorway she died where she lay
Life for her may have been different had she not kept bad company
But easily said on hindsight how things might have been for such as she.
Some mother's young daughter is beyond all care
With the gleam of youth still in her golden hair
In a dimly lit alleyway in the cold night air
She did not return from the brink of despair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mothers And Their Daughters
they struck him down hard early in life
he slaps me around plenty
i cannot leave
my daughter never cries
to feed my daughter
i will take on the whole lot of you
the young men howl
i am a mother in time of famine
my daughter dying at my breast
my husband wants a son
my first child a love child a daughter
a wedding to make it right
a family joke to keep me honest
they have a one child policy here
he took my first child my daughter
sold her to the americans
as a child they mutilated me
for fear i might become the woman i am
they will never get to my daughter
I am told to hate my burqa
it keeps my secret from him
my daughter will wear the burqa
poem by Paul Bamberger
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The Orphan Boy's Tale
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy,
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.
The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears;
'Rejoice! rejoice!' still cried the crowd;
My mother answered with her tears.
'Why are you crying thus,' said I,
'While others laugh and shout for joy?'
She kiss'd me -- and with such a sigh!
She called me her poor orphan boy.
'What is an orphan boy?' I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smil'd;
My mother through her tears replied,
'You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!'
And now they've toll'd my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy;
O lady, -- I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.
Oh! were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,--
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep! -- ha? -- this to me?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ
Look down, dear parents! look and see
Your happy, happy orphan boy!
poem by Amelia Opie
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Redemption
He thought that he would die alone
when he entered hospice care.
Folks wind up in Calvary
who haven’t got a prayer.
Long estranged from his first wife
And the two children that she bore him.
He only sought a refuge
from pain and death before him.
The nurse on duty saw his name
And hope combined with fear.
Could this be her father that was lost?
Could fate have brought him here?
She asked the patient if he had
some family about.
He mentioned his two daughters’ names
“-but they must be grown up now.”
“I’m Wanda, I’m your daughter.”
She said, choking back her tears.
He begged for her forgiveness
For being gone for all those years.
Of course he’d missed her wedding day
and never held her child.
He’d missed so many Father’s Days.
Still, she made him proud.
Perhaps it was a twist of fate
Perhaps the Angels’ plan
That when this man had breathed his last
He held his daughter’s hand.
.
The story of the reunion of Wanda Rodriquez, hospice nurse with her estranged father, Victor Peraza, at Calvary Hospital in the Bronx.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Locket
From out her shabby rain-coat pocket
The little Jew girl in the train
Produced a dinted silver locket
With pasted in it portraits twain.
"These are my parents, sir" she said;
"Or were, for now I fear they're dead.
"I know to Belsen they were sent;
I never heard of them again.
So many were like that - they went,
Our woeful quest was all in vain.
I was in London with a friend,
Or I, too, would have shared their end.
"They could have got away, I'm told,
And joined me here in Marylebne,
But Grannie was so sick and old,
They could not leave her there alone.
When they were seized she cried and cried:
Thank God! 'Twas in her bed she died.
"How did they die? I cannot bear
To think of that - it crazes me.
My mother was so sweet, so fair;
My father handsome as you see . . .
I'm sure no daughter ever had
More lovely parents . . . Yes, it's sad.
"But for their loss I shall not grieve;
I'll hug the hope they still survive;
Oh, I must make myself believe
Somehow, somewhere they're still alive. . . .
"Well, that's my only souvenir,
A locket stained with many a tear."
poem by Robert William Service
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Yesterday
My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father's hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
have to
just because I'm here
I say nothing
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don't want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Dad's Little Birthday Girl is all Grown Up.
My daughter will be 21 years of age next week.
She is everything a man could ask for in a daughter;
smart, attractive, and just a trifle bit like her father.
Someone asked me if I was happy with her choices
I suppose they meant the boys she dates.
I remember one of the first I met, I had been expecting
a young marine, but found instead
A fully shaved fellow with an anarchist tattoo on his head
and some cheap pawnshop ring stuck in his nose.
Needless to say I sent him home…
I am however happy to report, her taste in clothes and men
have become more to those like and of her lovely mother’s
This makes me smile with delight when I look at her now
about to blow out the candles on another cake…
And all I can think of to say is
Happy Birthday my very lovely daughter….
2008 © T Sheridan
poem by Ted Sheridan
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I Am Grateful For The Parents I Had And Have
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PARENTS I HAD AND HAVE
I am grateful for the parents I had and have
They are still with me
I miss them
Sometimes they appear in my dreams
When I am walking I think of them
I see them at various ages of their lives
My father young tall strong
My mother smiling kind warm in strong middle age
My father bent on his way to the senior citizens
My mother in a wheelchair no longer even half herself
Or in the faded pictures of them in their youth
As I never saw them in life
I think of them and miss them
Their dreams their loves are in me
Yesterday I was with a great – grandchild of theirs
Who they never have seen or will see
How happy that smiling calm child would have made them
Life is difficult and long and filled with loss and blessing
How I will love and miss my parents always
How they still live in me
And hopefully in what comes after me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Light Seems to Shine
He loved me well ~ I loved him too
His melodies of love were all for me.
And into his arms I always flew
Whenever he smiled upon me.
We danced and danced the night away
In the moonlight before our wedding day.
Dancing belongs to the days of old,
The beautiful springtime before he died.
Without my 'Ken' the nights grew cold
Yearnings and longings multiplied.
I cried and I cried each night away
Recalling our beautiful wedding day.
With forty long years here in my heart
I am still his, and he is still mine.
We kept our vows 'Till death us do part'
And as I write, a light seems to shine
Inviting me to a life on cloud nine
A life of sweet music, roses and wine.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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In My Nightmares
In my nightmares, I am running from the truth.
All is see is myself lonely, and trapped in a dark room.
But what could I really be running from?
I am running from the fact that I don’t have a father.
I grew up not knowing who he was.
Everyday I would wonder if he missed me as much as I missed him.
Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep because I felt so alone.
I know that I will never have the perfect family.
I know that my dad won’t be there to dance with me
At the father daughter dances or even give me away at my wedding.
I cried because I felt like there was something or someone missing.
I already knew that he wasn’t coming back.
But that’s not what hurt the most.
What hurts the most was thinking that I was probably the reason why he left.
People say I shouldn't blame myself.
But if I was so great then why did he leave in the first place?
Why was he never there on any of my birthday’s?
Or when I graduated Elementary School.
How come he won’t be there when I graduate High School or college.
But what is the saddest part is that my nightmares are reality!
poem by Marline Johnson
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Its Money That Matters
Of all of the people that I used to know
Most never adjusted to the great big world
I see them lurking in book stores
Working for the public radio
Carrying their babies around in a sack on their back
Moving careful and slow
(chorus)
Its money that matters
Hear what I say
Its money that matters
In the usa
All of these people are much brighter than i
In any fair system they would flourish and thrive
But they barely survive
They eke out a living and they barely survive
When I was a young boy, maybe thirteen
I took a hard look around me and asked what does it mean?
So I talked to my father, and he didnt know
And I talked to my friend and he didnt know
And I talked to my brother and he didnt know
And I talked to everybody that I knew
(chorus)
Its money that matters
Now you know that its true
Its money that matters
Whatever you do
Then I talked to a man lived up on the county line
I was washing his car with a friend of mine
He was a little fat guy in a red jumpsuit
I said you look kind of funny
He said I know that I do
But I got a great big house on the hill here
And a great big blonde wife inside it
And a great big pool in my backyard and another great big pool
Beside it
Sonny its money that matters, hear what I say
Its money that matters in the usa
Its money that matters
Now you know that its true
Its money that matters whatever you do
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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