Long Fathering Poems
Long Fathering Poems. Below are the most popular long Fathering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fathering poems by poem length and keyword.
The holders of custom and bearings
The teachers of manners and sayings
The steerers of the leanings and standings
The givers of surnames and blessings
The fabric that makes priests and kings
Are fathers in their fatherhood and fathering
You are both shield and guide
In whom sons and daughters confide
You are both scion and pride
Of the society you are placed to abide
You are both the breadth and stride
Of your kind’s spread; far and wide
Be today celebrated but ever honored
For all you have selflessly offered
Good and faithful service unwaivered
May your steps be Divinely ordered
And likewise armed and armoured
For whatever storm to be weathered
God be present in your sunshine and rain
God give you joy for your pain
May all your toils bring you gain
Scale hills as though traversing plains
And all in all firmly remain
Godly and righteous without stain
HAPPY FATHERS DAY.
K. Muitherero
From the womb it seems I birthed into a cocoon
Cant say I had known for sometime I was alive
Much learnt whilst unaware for almost four years
My memories say I'm one calendar says I'm five
Things that seemed important over sixty years ago
The latest shaped shoes or a top ten hit parade song
At fifteen peer pressure shaped how I would behave
Learning to discover where I would eventually belong
No manuals to assist a father raise three young children
Imparting to dependants the way I had been mentored
Dealing with an aggressive workplace, finances and self
At thirty overwhelmed, swearing in this poem is censored
A new century arrived grandfathering is such a blessing
Responsibilities of existence have largely been lightened
Now turned fifty still feeling some traces of distant youth
A positive outlook on life has recently become heightened
Having reached the age of seventy over eight years ago
As an alternative thinker there is a chance I am outcast
I am far removed from alignment with majority opinion
Rejecting thoughts postulating how much time I might last
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
The way sin nature and choice
The negative display they choose
If being a man is to fornicate
Have intercourse being unmarried with any woman they can
Then I am not a man
And I cry today
If being a man is to sexually abuse a child
Then I am not a man today
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
Instead of working a job
I stay in a house or apartment living off of woman, This ain't love
This ain't right
If I have to beat, slam, throw the woman around
This ain't love
But yet a lot of women say it's right
The negative display they choose
If being a man is to fornicate
Have intercourse being unmarried with any woman they can
Then I am not a man
And I cry today
Fathering children all over town
Most men this is how they git down
Will I'm here to say, The Lord will have His way
So many men in the prisons
So many children without their fathers at home
While they too are on the rome
If being a man are these characteristics
Then I guess I'll never be a man
This is why I cried today
Don't git me wrong I'm not perfect
I'm not perfect but I write this verse to say
Some of us men gonna have to pay
You can't keep doing God's daughters any old kind of way
So if beating women is your pleasure
Abusing children gives you power
Hold on don't forget every man, woman, and boy girl must repent;
And for heavens sake it's hard to forgive let alone forget
But if we want to make to glory we must forgive always
I am not afraid to say
I'm a man and I cried today
I am almost, wait I am ashamed of a lot of men today
The way sin nature and choice
The negative display they choose
I'm ashamed to be a man today
So I pray first for me
Then I pray for the brethren
And I stay, I stay up before them
Then I guess I'll never be a man
Pray for us the men of the world
That most if not all stop, turn around and serve the Lord
This is why I cried today
AMEN
09/18/17
WRITTEN BY James Edward Lee Sr.
A goldfish has a memory of three seconds
Very much like senior citizens I'd say
They're often seen aimlessly walking the streets
Wearing their wife's negligee
A sneeze has been recorded at travelling over
One hundred forty feet per second
Fast enough to knock a buzzard off a poop wagon
An amazing feat without question
During an average person's lifetime, one will eat
Sixty thousand pounds of food
That's the weight of about six full grown elephants
Embarrassing to be seen in the nude
In Tokyo, I'm told they sell toupees for your dog
Come on, that's just downright bizarre
Way back, “pants” was considered a bad word
That's one of the strangest facts by far
Only one person in two billion will live to be
One hundred and sixteen or older
Wonder if these geezers are still sexually active
Does the fire of passion still smoulder
The longest flight of a rooster ever recorded
Was about thirteen seconds they say
Chasing all the pretty hens around the barnyard
Clucking, “ride 'em cowboy, olé!”
Did you know Ramses Condoms were named
After the pharaoh Ramses the Second
This gentleman didn't use any such protection
For fathering 160, he's a legend
If you ever find yourself in a crocodile's jaws
Push your thumbs in its eyeballs
The croc will scream and immediately let go
Then run away before you get mauled
Faerie wing blessings for the believer girl who lives here
In the forest, inside a giant moss-covered hill, surrounded by
delicate mushrooms with dainty stems, and overgrown meat.
Faeries congregate to watch her sleep, through the tiny round
window she clawed out when she first arrived, escaping a mean
man, who was step-fathering her in an unloving way.
Faeries protect her softly, giving her inspiring dreams, and
hopeful poetry, to keep her safe, and to love her softly, and gently.
Leaving wild strawberries, and apples on her doorstep, showering her
with kindness.
Faerie wing blessings are given nightly for all of the innocents who are hurt or maimed or killed by stepfathers or stepmothers. Maybe not body-killed, but soul-killed, by selfishness and greed, or ignorance.
Faeries congregate to float hope and love and optimism into the windows of the gentle-hearted, to keep them dazzling innocent and pretty with their heart-souls, and to nurture them when no one else is doing this.
Faeries step aside quickly when angels are about, as they take over, and whisk the little souls back to the most nurturing place of all, loving them gently......
The ruling party's eternal line: Warriors brightly shine,
Their battlefield triumphs necessarily fine.
Yet crown them as statesmen, heroics diminish,
Often resulting in ignominious finishes.
Caesar defeated Pompey, returning home to cheers,
Ambition rent them on 'kind Brutus' dagger of tears.
George Washington led America in battle victorious,
Before fathering scores of slave-offspring inglorious.
Andrew Jackson cut down Indian raiders -- so daring and risky,
Fueled by his addiction to grain alcohol whiskey.
Up San Juan Hill Teddy Roosevelt's Horsemen did charge,
As roughly as into the White House he later did barge.
***************
And now that military heroes no longer become Presidents--
Only foibles and flaws distinguish current Oval Office residents.
#In_Her_pregnancy
I feel touchy, maybe my unborn son too wanna feel my hands, wanna speak the touchy language, my hands on her belly and my unborn son ears on the wall, listening to my heart speaking through my hands, the art in her pregnancy
In her pregnancy, part of me resides, waking in the middle of the night, woken by a voice to just stare at my future unfolding, in her tummy.
In her pregnancy, my hope lies, my joy germinates, to shine, to vocal proudly and firmly about fathering a son,
I'm impatient, maybe its the burning chemistry between me and my unborn son, that burns my waiting heart
When he kicks, I feel for her mother, the visible motions, printing his enthusiasm, my heart melt, my hands itches from inside, to hold and feel him in person, to indulge his skin. My eyes blinks, I'm soon to witness life in flesh, a new mesmerizing view of my life, my unborn son,
her pregnancy speaks in codes familiar to my heart, I just wanna let go off the world and keep observing only her pregnancy
In her pregnancy, my heart stuck, hear my pulse echoed in her belly, and my unborn son start dancing to my heart joy song, in her pregnancy, I'm attracted, in her pregnancy I'm attached, in her pregnancy I'm alive, in her pregnancy, I live
#Poetic_Ink
They come to her hungry - hopeful
To be fed facile fantasy, a script he held
Stowed in boyhood through decades
Recessed where sweating shame dwelled
Invisible while he achieved accolades
Gridiron big man outperform boastful
Invited him - initial meeting innocent, ice cream
Daddy intrigued by her earnest licking nimble
Turquoise tip of nose - How is it him she chose!
Cheerful, charming, character a pure miracle
Bulging cheeks, bubblegum rubber musky rose
Blonde polished cup pours cordial ruse supreme
She is melting, delicate, lacking, needs guidance
Developed via his worldly wisdom, operation infuse
Gifts to uplift her, mould her to become recognised
As his arm or appendage, entrenched, morning muse
Showoff chattel mantelpiece trophy, triumph prized
Afloat in alter ego, dazzled by desire, her vibrance
By her childish chat chuffed - heart tackled
Tables tipped like scales, nubile ponytail smile
Untied ribbons rewind wrongs, forgiveness fulfils
Putty, petty criminals are tethered, put on trial
Paying a penance for their filth, provision spills
Pirated pockets prescribe her opiate tranquil
Sheathed in subtle saccharine mystique, as he prefers
Entranced by her emptiness, he creates facets suitable
Cherry topped toffee coffee scoop serves saturation
Crushable ribs, jutting hip bones, bird fragile beautiful
Flutters fast on fathering parts, orgasmic exaggeration
Favourite flavour - thousand sprinkles what’s his is hers
Fourth of September
Flavour of Seduction
A true character
Who replenishes all of our needs
That holds us best and picks you up
Even at your weakest moments
So that we do not go hungry
Or sleep unclothed
He who gives us the ability to find strength
When setbacks are apart of life
I was taught to value myself
And the solid lessons in limitations that this journey would bring
He believes the depth in his being
This creation would never be broken
Because an emphasis on fathering would never be absent
I am a creation in the making
To measure up to something
Which he molded me
Until I know all he knows
He is exactly what he is needed to be
A father, who will die to protect
A man with nothing to lose
One with no words
That speaks so much volume
And a smile in trouble
Who gathers strength from distress
To place his family as the most important thing in his life
He is cautious with the actions and decisions
He makes so he won't have to be responsible for their pain
He is all
TWINED POETIC MOTHERING AND FATHERING
My heart is inditing a good
matter…my tongue is the
pen of a ready writer.
(Psalm 45:1)
I
Poetic Intentions
Sitting here waiting, fogged brain—
Like an anxious womb—craves
Impregnation of creativity:
Pleading the fertilizing genius thereof,
To usher in the seed of the birth
Of the long desired poem:-
It’s soon painfully realized
That poetry is of the nature
Of the sowing mind, deciding
When, how, and indeed, where,
The midwife of revelations will be
Called to monitor delivery:-
The crisis of unawareness cured—
In awareness—I now cheerfully
Ponder in sage contemplation,
As the spirit of the poetic midwife
Soothes my anxious, suffering nature
With the coming joy of poetic parenthood:-
II
Poetic incubation
Here, woodshedding in the cave of self,
My pregnant mind seems to have gone
Into an eerie state of suspended animation;
Leaving excited, wiggling words, kicking
And loudly jumping around, as if they
Where in a kind of drunken stupor:-
And when so aroused, such words seem
To rise and hop onto a roving lexical
Poetic merry-go-round: whorl pooling
And wave frothing towards waiting shores
To be inked and moisturized into awareness
And hydrated sands of beaching enlightenment:-
Poetic minds do not just exist;
Rather, they are living mind-wombs,
Waiting the fertilizations of wordings—
Deeply sown in endometrial cognition—
To be reaped into waiting juicy fruits
Of divine wisdom and navigating guidance:-
The poem is not merely
A mental shot-out ejaculation:-
Rather, it’s the result of spiritual incubation
In the mind’s womb, and when it’s deemed so,
The Creator breaks waters’ flowing poetic blooms:
The man-shed, and she-cave, the mere waiting rooms:-