Fathers poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best fathers poems ever written. Read all poems about fathers.
we've ignored eachother for a long time
and I'm strictly an indoor man
anytime to call would be the wrong time
I'll avoid you as long as I can
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
at the track today,
each paid admission was
entitled to a wallet
What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual."
Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
Old fathers, great-grandfathers,
Rise as kindred should.
If ever lover's loneliness
Came where you stood,
Once I saw some boys
Outside a gate
They had come to school
But they were very late
Every Father Dies with Pain
Every father dies Unhappy,
I have been with fathers
They are ordinary human beings
With extraordinary hands
To hold life by the horns
Fathers are for caring us
Wherever we are in this world
Fathers are our best nurse.
The quarter still remains dark, skin still remains black, out of the Negroes.
The elders still wish we could all be the black,
That of our fore elders.
I know my fathers
They are black men with a black heart
Men whose greed has no limit
Men whose hunger can't be satisfied
Oh just world of founding fathers,
Never such destiny was your doing
Such melancholy, the demise of others!
Lo, there do I see my father,
Lo, there do I see my mother,
And my sisters and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my ancestors
In real life I am here. Of monastery life I know nothing. I have a bedsit in Helsinki. My lover called. The storm has knocked down the garden birch on her car. Left by myself I search for comfort in the writings of hermit fathers. On television a penguin mother vomits food for her chick. I keep an icon in the bathroom cupboard. Toothpaste-smeared Sweetly Kissing Mother of God. Bees hIn real life I am here. Of monastery life I know nothing. I have a bedsit in Helsinki. My lover called. The storm has knocked down the garden birch on her car. Left by myself I search for comfort in the writings of hermit fathers. On television a penguin mother vomits food for her chick. I keep an icon in the bathroom cupboard. Toothpaste-smeared Sweetly Kissing Mother of God. Bees hum in the window. I cannot be born again. Love is not chosen.um in the window. I cannot be born again. Love is not chosen.
Says our fore fathers;
The society becomes a jungle.
Writing a poem is not about bringing some words together to create some charming sentences. It's so much deeper than that. Writing poetry is a bridge that allows people to express their feelings and make others live every single word they read. Poetry is to educate people, to lead them away from hate to love, from violence to mercy and pity. Writing poetry is to help this community better understand life and live it more passionately. PoemHunter.com contains an enormous number of famous poems from all over the world, by both classical and modern poets. You can read as many as you want, and also submit your own poems to share your writings with all our poets, members, and visitors.