Long Fathers Poems
Long Fathers Poems. Below are the most popular long Fathers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fathers poems by poem length and keyword.
He chose the illegal way,
instead of honesty and prayer,
to deny his sordid existence with the blankest stare;
and while tragedy strikes home,
he can't evade those prisons' walls and run free
to comfort with his shallowness a wife drowned in sorrow,
struggling to make a living,
giving more density to an empty feeling...
An incarcerated father,, temporarily alienated
from society,while his kids' dreams are incinerated;
had he been a good dad like others have,
nothing of this sort would have happened..no goodbye, no tears!
Fathers, ponder over this and spare them many useless heartbreaks!
Never let them see you dragged in chains to a courtroom,
and feel the humiliation of the harshest words from a furious judge!
Is this what you like to hear and not change anytime soon?
What makes any man desire
others' possessions that they earned with their sweat;
what makes a dishonorable human being seize,
by a swift and injurious hand, what isn't his?
Desperation and deprivation play their role,
to bring to completion the Devil's schemes of deceit;
any remorse, not to suppress guilt, and make this sin remissible:
to erase everything from his conscience consumed by greed?
An incarcerated father, dreaming of those innocent faces,
he condemned in hell without any fault of their own; heartless father,
take another look at them and see how they shiver;
they would like to hold you, but something holds them back...
if you are capable of carrying out the evil in you and hurt strangers,
how will they ever trust you and not see that as a possible threat?
Untrustworty and unworthy one...you have failed as a dad;
and would they understand and rescue you from the inferno you've created?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Tell Jesus You are sorry.
Though you may think that it's none of my business
But with a wink, there's a point that you would miss
A truth that's not seen in a reality that's not known
In knowing what I mean when you are fully grown
Tell Jesus you are sorry for all the sins of the past
He will help you to see the shadow that it had cast
Cradling you in His Hand with Gentle Loving Grace
You will understand once you see the Fathers Face
Repent in your heart for that is on what He'll Judge
Right from the start and every single little smudge
But if you tell Jesus you're sorry, feeling His Pain
The One who can set you free all else being vain
I know His Heart is broken so many sheep now lost
The Words our Lord had Spoken again being tossed
His Heart wrapped in thorns oh His great love for you
Hopefully His Name adorns and you know His Love true
The Sacred Heart of Jesus
Have Mercy on us
If one would say this 9 word prayer,
once, twice, even three times a day,
what a Glorious thing that would be,
Even if it were just 1 person, all of
Heaven would rejoice!
By some old men born some centuries ago their childhood was raped
Without their consent it was taken away from them
Their sense of humor they killed all in the name tradition
Their freedom of choice they denied them because of religion
The right to proper womanhood they took away from them all in the name of friendly relation
Slaves they are turned
Exposing them to things beyond their mental comprehension
How do we define the relationship between a 60 years old man and a 13 years old teenager
Is that how much they really don't matter?
Really? Like seriously?
Forget not the fact that they are also humans
Humans with inalienable rights
Stop depriving them of their rights
Dear ignorant fathers! you cannot always be right!
Dear powerless mothers! you should not always be quiet
If they cannot stop, I ABSOL will talk for them with my ink!
Stop this outdated culture, tradition and religious practices!
And get updated!!!
ABSOL
A man gets killed by the police
in a most undeserving way,
we all see it and all agree
they were wrong, and will have to pay.
The president himself sees it
and then sends in the F.B.I.,
to figure out why this happened,
since such behavior cannot fly.
The cop who did it is locked up,
to face what verdict may be found,
and somehow people think this means
they should burn the whole city down?!
As if wanton destruction can
undue something already done?
As if hurting other people will
improve the world for everyone?
As if destroying your own jobs
2ill somehow make everything right?
And not just convince others to
distrust all of you at first sight?
And those criminal stereotypes
that people complain of all the time,
do you think arson and assault
will make those people change their minds?
Do you think people that you hurt
will say,”It’s justified,”when they bleed?
They did nothing to deserve this,
you’re just planting future hate’s seed.
The lefties types may support you,
but eventually, when this all fails,
do you think those politicos
will care much when you rot in jail?
And what of those in your neighborhoods
who seem homes and business destroyed?
You ruin a person’s life work
they’ll be more than a little annoyed.
Since most of these folks are you own,
your fathers, your mothers, your kin,
do you think destroying their lives
could ever somehow be a ‘win?’
You’re not fighting for justice here,
you're just violent, criminal scrum,
we all see you on the TV,
running around as if it’s just fun.
Did Martin Luther King loot towns
when faced with oppression far worse?
Would Jim Crow have been defeated
if he’d acted a violent jerk?
And when the big guns do come out,
you'll find yourselves well and truly f@#ked.
Nothing excuses what’s going down,
you rioters all truly suck.
He woke me
For a reason
And I flung
Back the covers
That blinded me
I retrieved my sword
As he told me
Who has set foot
Upon his world
Without
Fear or favour
I set about
My task
No one will tread it down
Break it
Into pieces
Without my prying eyes
And my sword
By my side
I can hear
His boastful speeches
They screech upon my soul
That roar
I can’t deny
As I know
What’s behind
And what pride
Has to come
He may threaten
My Fathers children
But he is just clay
He has no real power
He fools himself
Just as they
He is only king
To those
That praise and graze
Around his thorny hills
I beg you
Don’t follow
This Fool
He will be the end of you
I know
I have parried
With him before
And will again
He will up
And run from me
Like the coward
He is
A despicable
Contemptuous character
That spews bile
From his hellish head
He colludes
And conspires
Among the evil few
His allies are invested
Infested
Against those
Like you
Look at his tricks
Look for ulterior
For they are there
Behind
His exterior
He is not a fan of
My Father
And definitely
Not one of mine
And I wear that
With pride and honour
Like my sword
At my side
I’ll let him know now
He won’t succeed
As we are many
We will
Set the time
And manage the laws
He is far from being superior
To us
As we are blind
To his royal front
He’s a liar
Plain and simple
Don’t be fooled
By his real-estate deals
It’s a trap
To trip you up
Blaspheme spews forth
From the lion’s jaws
But remember
Remember
The lion is toothless
His followers
Blind and delusional
And I
Await
In the south
With my sword
By my side
He will come
Again
And again
But I have more
On my side
Then he
Be wary
My nemeses
North and East
Are with me
And the people
I can only ask
Know your Father
Know His words
With this knowledge
You can
Resist
There ought to be a law
If CEOs ignore firestorm conflagrations
expanding in strength
and endurance
And ignore wet windstorms
wiping out resident populations,
humane and Republican
and otherwise,
If CEOs meanwhile invest all their twitter toilet time
and anti-green revolutionary rallies
expanding hate conflagrations
of disinformation
against their patriotic healthy opposition,
and not one unmediated word,
much less "praying with feet" investment
in ecological and theological economic therapy,
multicultural healing sins of Great White Fathers,
Then we get to choose
a healthier,
more sane,
more loyal,
more invested,
more committed to health and happiness,
less treasonous
CEO.
And he gets to choose
a healthier,
more sane,
less fractured
therapeutic habitat.
Ever since I was born, you were there to watch me
A father full of pride, even I would agree
You took care of me, countless 24/7's
You barely even slept, not ten or eleven
You raised me in a dad's unconditional love
Sometimes strict, sometimes stern, but peaceful like a dove
To young me you were like a supercomputer
Helping with my homework, no one's way cooler
I forgot to mention my element'ry times
How we did my math problems, we solved like crimes
You were fond of using letters a,b, and c
When all I could figure were x,y, and z
You honed my talents, in music to be exact
A gift inside of me you've managed to unwrap
Something I really learned from you and your guitar
Experiences and thoughts way before trojan war
I'm afraid that my poem is coming to an end
There's much to tell you that I cannot comprehend
The towering number of the things you have done
Happy Father's Day my dear father and loved one.
Fathers of that era
did not hug or touch or
intimate their love.
He was the same
Did he love us, we his
kin, his blood-seed. He
did not say, yet I
believe he did.
He was a provider, for
sure. A taste for beer,
never dissolute and
he smoked as most
working folk, did then.
An adept gardener, his
vegetables supplemented
our meagre rationed diet.
Did he care, he never
said, I’m sure he did.
What made him tick,
deep down, I mean
where only introspectives,
types like me will
sometimes dig.
It is easy, so easy
to theorise. His
generation, strong
and silent, did not
discuss such things,
especially with his son,
such things were never
done. Maybe..perhaps
with Mum. Feelings
were not shared but
held back, within.
A reservoir of emotions
controlled, withheld
until death shatters
the dam.
Is that why I cried
so, the day he died
and still I wonder..
did I cry for me,
or was it for him
Acres and acres of barren land.
The dried tumbleweeds roll across the open field,
their roots dry and uprooted.
The quiet cotton field where slavery once beckoned,
the sounds of voices chanting,
the saloon where the taps flowed like blood through their veins,
the missuses with long skirts and huge hats—
a young miss sitting on the knee of some foolhardy lass.
The sheriff across the way,
a hand on his hip, meaning business.
The smell of warm bread lingers in the air from the bakery,
the blacksmith, hammer in hand,
striking the hot iron on the wood stove.
Memories of ancestors and fool’s gold remain in the dark.
The fine line that was drawn is still visible in the sand,
along with the bloodstain, now a faint shade of pink,
telling a story of the law against the outlaws.
The onslaught that ensued had turned the town into a war zone,
makeshift graves and wooden crosses everywhere,
a place where man no longer exists.
A battle of wills with no surrenders,
the legacy now silence,
marked in stones scribbled in red.
Years of neglect; now it feels like a ghost town,
the empty years and the signs that are left are part of the history.
In the distance, the sound of life; there’s the silhouette of a horse and buggy.
Inside, a little family—the new settlers.
The father jumps down at the line in the sand.
A boy of six, with dirty suspenders, squeals with delight
as his father, with sweat running down his face,
hammers the sign in the ground.
The hope of a new beginning is felt in the air.
You hear the faint sound of a baby crying,
the mother shushing
as she reads the simple wording:
In Marked Territory
1889
Population: 9
Blame
yourself for
the things your
children say and do;
they got them from your
nasty looks, gestures and unkind words...
read them some stories from the Bible!
Mothers more than fathers should be their teachers;
no vile words they should speak, good manners count:
clean and obedient upbringing pave the way for future success,
discipline and behavior makes them stand out from other naughty kids!
All parents must play an important role in their children's lives,
if they do stupid things, correct them, not rebuke them;
nicknames aren't that funny and they will resent them,
have patience, teach them all the right ways
by allowing them to make some mistake!
Isn't perfection so hard to achieve?
Does that perfect one exist?
Human Nature has flaws,
fall and rise:
glory is
yours!
Entered in Shadow Hamilton's contest,
" Double Reverse Etheree "
Written on 9/ 20/2014