Related quotes: When I became a mother,...

My Wishing and Hoping Of My Two Children

When I became a mother, I was wishing, and hoping, to gain knowledge.
I was studying reading, spelling, self learning. To educate, them. And
have a good job, for themselves. At the meantime. I could not do it
without my husband's help.
I did it" and my wish came true: Also I thank my husband Peter, He did it all!:
Our son Louis DMD, is a Pharmacist, also dentist. Our daughter works for DCI
as an Executive Secretary. I am a grandmother of two boys, Christos and Peter, Theodorou.
I had no help from my background. I work very hard to learn words; at
the same time to get along with other people I used to put my children
to sleep. After that, I was studying English or sewing for living:

poem by Pota L. Stylos
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Related quotes

Education

How hard it is,
To learn and write,
To prepare and fight,
The evil exams!
The book so thick
Studying it makes us feel sick,
Everything comes to an end
But, why not education?
They say learning is like a sinking star
But to us, studying
Is always like a war..
Now, here we are hating and cursing
But still not losing
Cause of our value education…
It is double valuable
If we give it as Dedication,
Think of many who has not seen books
Who has always been in hooks
Of illiteracy,
But here we are able but still
In aliteracy,
Learn and help to learn,
Give a child the gift of education
And let it be your recreation…
Let the light of knowledge glow all way,
And let’s join hands
In making illiteracy blow away…

'Learn and let learn'

poem by Shalini Kts
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Learning is acquired by reading books but the much more necessary learning, the knowledge of the world, is only to be acquired by reading man, and studying all the various editions of them.

quote by Philip Dormer Stanhope Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Husband...

A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective

A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding

A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry

A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses

A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his

poem by Sarah Holmes
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Learning is acquired by reading books, but the much more necessary learning, the knowledge of the world, is only to be acquired by reading men, and studying all the various facets of them.

quote by Lord Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Test Week

Here comes test week one
There is less time for fun.
Boys are studying hard all day
For them to top in some way.

Some have english first than chemistry
Then physics, maths and history.
They stay up late till twelve 'o' clock
The studying never seems to stop.

For maths, boys practice many sums
And do so well that 'hundred' comes.
Books in the morning, books at night
Books, books, books all the time.

Then comes the end of 'test week one'
Now its time for all the fun.
Nest week inter-house soccer begins
The competitions tough....
....Never know who's going to win!

poem by Varun Pais
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I really believe that studying organization, even in the form of studying detective story organization, is very, very valuable for a playwright, a budding playwright.

quote by Peter Shaffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That was my aspiration, so I was there in a seminary with just boys who were studying to be priests. Pretty rigorous schooling; we never got home, we stayed there all year.

quote by Peter Jurasik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't love studying. I hate studying. I like learning. Learning is beautiful.

quote by Natalie Portman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dedication for a Plot of Ground

This plot of ground
facing the waters of this inlet
is dedicated to the living presence of
Emily Dickinson Wellcome
who was born in England; married;
lost her husband and with
her five year old son
sailed for New York in a two-master;
was driven to the Azores;
ran adrift on Fire Island shoal,
met her second husband
in a Brooklyn boarding house,
went with him to Puerto Rico
bore three more children, lost
her second husband, lived hard
for eight years in St. Thomas,
Puerto Rico, San Domingo, followed
the oldest son to New York,
lost her daughter, lost her "baby,"
seized the two boys of
the oldest son by the second marriage
mothered them -- they being
motherless -- fought for them
against the other grandmother
and the aunts, brought them here
summer after summer, defended
herself here against thieves,
storms, sun, fire,
against flies, against girls
that came smelling about, against
drought, against weeds, storm-tides,
neighbors, weasels that stole her chickens,
against the weakness of her own hands,
against the growing strength of
the boys, against wind, against
the stones, against trespassers,
against rents, against her own mind.

She grubbed this earth with her own hands,
domineered over this grass plot,
blackguarded her oldest son
into buying it, lived here fifteen years,
attained a final loneliness and --

If you can bring nothing to this place
but your carcass, keep out.

poem by William Carlos Williams
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Fascination

My little brother crouches down, studying the ground, intently.
His porky legs look cute in their long grey socks and he doesn't
seem to notice I am here.

I creep over beside him to see that which holds his attention.
The ground is alive with ants, little tiny creatures moving in never
ending formation.

We both crouch to watch the ants, studying them, enthralled.
Mother is wondering where we are, calling to us.
"We're watching little men marching, " we reply, giggling

She rushes out, hands dripping with soap suds, pinny wet.
"Men! " she says, in a worried tone. "What men? "
"Ant men" we say. "they're playing soldiers".

poem by Ruth Walters
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He forgot—and I—remembered

203

He forgot—and I—remembered—
'Twas an everyday affair—
Long ago as Christ and Peter—
"Warmed them" at the "Temple fire."

"Thou wert with him"—quoth "the Damsel"?
"No"—said Peter, 'twasn't me—
Jesus merely "looked" at Peter—
Could I do aught else—to Thee?

poem by Emily Dickinson
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What Would The Children Think

She wakes up in the morning with the new sunrise
Looks at her husband sleeping still
Inside she cries
She makes the children breakfast
Gets them on their way
Watching them through the window
She prepares to face another day
Then her husband tells her
That he wont be home til late
Theres so much work hell have to stay behind
But she knows it isnt work thats on his mind
But still hell never leave her
Cause what would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
At the gate she kissed him
And watched him walk
Hoping this small charade
Will stop the neighbors talk
She turns to hide a tear
Inside her gilded cage
She cries for the love she could not hold
And lost to someone half her age
Then her pride and breakin heart
Tell her to run away
But she values what shes got a little more
Two kids, one 9 and nearly 4
And she would never leave them cause
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do.

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Was Away

The widow sought the lawyer's room with children three in tow,
She told the lawyer man her tale in tones of deepest woe.
She said, "My husband took to drink for pains in his inside,
And never drew a sober breath from then until he died.

"He never drew a sober breath, he died without a will,
And I must sell the bit of land the childer's mouth to fill.
There's some is grown and gone away, but some is childer yet,
And times is very bad indeed -- a livin's hard to get.

"There's Min and Sis and little Chris, they stops at home with me,
And Sal has married Greenhide Bill that breaks for Bidgeree.
And Fred is drovin' Conroy's sheep along the Castlereagh
And Charley's shearin' down the Bland, and Peter is away."

The lawyer wrote the details down in ink of legal blue --
"There's Minnie, Susan, Christopher, they stop at home with you;
There's Sarah, Frederick and Charles, I'll write to them today,
But what about the other son -- the one who is away?

"You'll have to furnish his consent to sell the bit of land."
The widow shuffled in her seat, "Oh, don't you understand?
I thought a lawyer ought to know -- I don't know what to say --
You'll have to do without him, boss, for Peter is away."

But here the little boy spoke up -- said he, "We thought you knew;
He's done six months in Goulburn gaol -- he's got six more to do."
Thus in one comprehensive flash he made it clear as day,
The mystery of Peter's life -- the man who was away.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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My Friend's Husband

Is a Republican in the worst sense
Of the word; but she remains a
Diligent Independent to give both
Of their sons, 'both' sides of the
Common sense thought process of
Their mother and the ‘they-say'
Mindless nonsense of the dad.

My friend's husband is focused
On 'losing' without a thought of
Winning, to the good of all who are
Concerned; "One Nation, under God,
With liberty and justice for all."

Now, my friend's husband's heart
'Gets it', and always has, but his
Dumb-Ass, misguided loyalties have
Kidnapped his brain, and his mouth
Always belies it's heart-felt core,
That gets drown in ‘one more beer'.
In other words, my friend's husband
Is another 'good' father and spouse
Who would rather be led than lead.

I can write a poem that illuminates,
And my friend's husband can read.
We both need to vote what our heart
Tells us to - truthfully.

No, concentrate on the "to the good
Of ALL concerned, " line, not the
"Dumb-Ass" part.

2012

Jim Boone, US Poet Laureate nominee

poem by Jim Boone
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Graduations Past

As I look back on my own graduation, I reflect
On the race to finish learning, test and studying all I reject
Done feeling judged, tried of trying to fit in
Not knowing that exactly how I’d feel when the real world set in
I now cherish those days, when everyday I talked with a friend
When all the steps were mapped out from beginning to end
All I wanted was to be set free into this great world
All my life was out There…waiting for me to unfurl
Using rudimentary tools, I carved a nitch in this place
When I’m done I hope to leave a mark on the whole human race
Stilling learning today, facing test after test
Studying people, hoping to understand them, doing my best
Not judging others, hoping not to be judged is the goal
To stand out from the crowd, yet being one with my soul
Wherever you go, the whole world is a school
Just stop and listen closely… it’s talking to YOU

6/13/11

poem by Rhonda Baker
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In Remembrance of Grandma - Poem & Background

Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I share the background and poem 'In Remembrance of Grandma'.

I recognize that most of you reading this article will not know much about my maternal Grandmother, other than what you're able to glean from this page. However, there are universal lessons that need to be shared. This poem was originally written for her funeral.

For nearly forty years, I was blessed to have known my grandparents; blessed - because many people don't have the opportunity to know their family history personally from those who came before them. Within about one decade, mine were all gone - with my maternal grandmother being the last one to die. Of the four of them, I had spent the most time with her. My grandmother had moved to Portland, Maine; this came about as the result of two significant events in her life. First, her husband Al Massa died unexpectedly; second, her oldest daughter (and my mom) had gone through a divorce. So they decided to purchase a home jointly and move on with their lives. Also living with them was my aunt Tina, my mother's younger sister.

My grandmother was an intelligent woman; she was one of those people who completed the New York Times crossword puzzles - in ink and usually in under an hour. And she grew some of the most beautiful roses in her tiny backyard. It was wonderful to see the joy in her eyes when it came to her flowers. The problem was that she was heart-broken when Al passed away; for decades they would go dancing at night, just to hold one another more often. With him gone, she stopped living for herself. Less than a year from his retirement, her husband died on the picket line at work. Although I can only imagine her grief, it was difficult to see the affects of this tragedy slowly eat away at her soul. She rarely left her home, with the exception of going to Church, the grocery store or some of the neighbors' homes a few times during the month. She and Al were to go to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, but she could not bear to go there without him. In The Word, we are essentially reminded that 'people without vision perish' (and yes, I know that there are variations of interpretation of this concept) . Despite our ability to absorb pain, we must learn to move forward in life and not let the pain consume us.

For many years, she smoked cigarettes and was unwilling to give them up. She did so eventually; my mother moved out of their house, Tina got married; she and her husband lived with my grandma. Tina and husband Greg started their own family, raising three boys - thus giving her the incentive to quit. As most everyone knows, smoking increases one's risk of having cancer. My family were under the impression that she had managed to escape the misery of that disease. Less than two weeks from her death was when most of the family learned that she had contracted cancer and emphysema.

Although I understand and appreciate the need for privacy, it was selfish of my grandmother not to share the condition of her health. Her justification for not telling anyone, was that she had decided not to go through with the cancer treatment. By not telling us, she figured that no one would be given the opportunity to dissuade her from her decision. After all, it was her decision (and rightfully so) . Before she died, Tina started quickly gathering information about cancer - to better learn about what to expect regarding the few remaining days of her mother's life. One cancer brochure shocked her; as a result of reading the material, she was now having to deal with guilt. This particular pamphlet laid out symptoms and patterns of human behavior of those suffering from this fatal disease - stuff that Tina had observed, but never realized the meaning of until it was too late. So in effect, my grandmother caused her family more pain by not sharing. In addition, not everyone who cared about her, had enough time to say good-bye (while she was alive) .

Although I had time to compose this brief poem in her honor, I did not have enough time to process my grandmother's death fully (prior to the service) . I was supposed to read the following poem and share a few words. To my surprise, I was choked up with immense grief, which kept me from delivering my eulogy; my wife kindly stepped in and presented the poem. One of my brothers was extremely upset for my inability to talk on behalf of my grandmother; so he spoke on my family's behalf. It's one of my few regrets in life; however, she was the only grandparent of mine that got to read my poetry manuscript. Less than two months before her death, she had taken time read my poetry and was pleasantly pleased with my efforts. During her appraisal of my work was the first time I learned that she wrote poetry - as of today, I've never gotten to read a line of poetry that she wrote. So it breaks my heart not to know what she composed, as well as not being able to share any more of my writing with her. And so here is my tribute for her...

In Remembrance of Grandma

A manicured garden
of colored, cultured roses
now goes untended.
For Marguerite has been freed
of all mortal constraint;
left behind
is a silver trowel
and dancing shoes,
as her spirit flies
to the Hawaiian shore
for pirouetting barefoot
on the seashell sand.

Goodbye Grandma Massa; I miss you already.
(18 June 2006)

poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
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The Adulterous Wife

As her Children sleep in their bed
While her husband lays down his sleepy head
She quietly gets up and starts continuing her lies,
As this is the story, of the Adulterous wife.
She lies and cheats and do the sins that she shouldn't,
Sadly though, this isn't the first time for this woman
As in her past she has done this all before
Sadly her husband didn't know, that he had married a whore.
As when he is at work, she was never at home
And when her girl's slept, she was never alone
She lied and cheated and used her husband for a price
As this is the story of the Adulterous wife.
She sneaks out of the house whenever she can
So she can jump in the bed of another man
He then uses her, and then she lies to him
But neither can lie to GOD, when their beginning becomes their end.
And when her daughter's get older and they feel the strife
I wander if they will be like their mother, the adulterous wife
She argues and fights with her husband all the time
Loyalty and love to her husband has been left far behind.
The vow she swore to GOD she has broke it once again
Now she is a marked woman, in front of women and men
She has affairs with her lovers, that only the devil could believe
Asking them to come and rescue her, and set herself free.
She is never happy unless she is in another mans bed
Only happiness she brings that man, is when he is dead
She tells her lies and say all her men of hers are abusers
But she never let them know, that she is but a user.
And she'll keep her lies from yesterday unto today
And while she sins, other men lay down to pray
How sad it is to live that type of sinful life
But this is the true story of the Adulterous wife.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Dodai

I am a single mother with two children and,
Dodai came along to help me carry my load;
But i am dressed to kill but i have no husband.

Of the bride and bridegroom,
Of my days numbered to have children without husband;
And like a train from Pupulampu to Patawa!
But i will surely take care of these children.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Accustomed II

His wife,
Her husband;
His son,
Her daughter;
The story of a man and a woman!
But try to be accustomed to yourselves to understand my works,
For i am living in the Sea of Love! !