"pappa" poems
Feel the psychedelic beat
it makes me complete
gives a lazy Sunday
a new kind of heat
hate ol' Sunday
no good 'xcept for gin & old ladies
but now there's
this psychedelic beat
give it to me, Momma
sock it to me, Pappa
let me feel the heat
of this psychedelic beat
turning the world
into acid rainbows
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
The children they run, jump through the Sun,
...scream at the Horse for nary the fun.
What have you seen? What do you believe?
Did you get burnt on St. John's Eve?
Which day is it? Oh what the time?
Who be the meaning of old fabled rhyme?
Can you see stars? Oh great the heavens...
...can you see stars, so great the heavens?
Can you see stars? Oh great the heavens...
...can you see stars, so great the heavens?
Shh, here she comes, break black -the night!
...washed away the horse with infernal delight!
One is left ****** burnt, torn, pieces broken,
..and Momma, please Pappa; one's life merely token.
The children they run, jump through the Sun,
...ritual of the fear, for New Age begun.
Can you see stars? Oh great the heavens...
...can you see stars, so great the heavens?
Can you see stars? Oh great the heavens...
...can you see stars, so great the heavens? *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Gramophone records play
Scratch, play, scratch, play
Soft in the background, edging into me
Slow and easy, gentle waves.
Granny, play me La Wally again
Turning, spinning, round and round
Take me away on audio-pearls
Peace whirls me on a magic dance.
Pappa, hide the ugly monsters
Keep me safe in Noddy and Pat tales
I'd rather be caught in merry tune
Than in webs of yonder folk out there.
Momma, put on Golden Slumbers
"Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby"
Yes, I find my way homeward...
Gramps, sing me a Holliday song
The kind that lifts one so high
With Mammy and Pappy blessing all of me
Yes my happiness, I've got me own!
Dear Heaven, open windows and walls
Swirling, flowing its beautiful energy
Sore needed peace and beauty
That no eye can truly see.
Star Toucher, 02 March 2013
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Liefde is:
om die langpad Kaap toe deur te dring met Afrikaans is Groot treffers omdat jy sien *** Pappa sy vingers teen die maat van die ritme tik.
Dis om te weet dat Mamma wel omgee al is sy soms te besig om na jou gunsteling gedigte te luister.
Dis om saam met Boeties rugby te speel al wil jou lyf al vir jare nie meer hardloop en rond gestamp word nie.
Liefde woon hier
Tussen die gee en kry,
Tussen die op offeringe,
Tussen ons almal.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
My father.
Old sailor.
Old farmer.
Old carpenter.
Old interpreter.
Old archive of facts
And history. He knows
Our ancestory by heart down
To the 1600s. Born 1946, 68 years
Old today. Bought me my first pen,
My first book, taught me English
From the age of five. Told me I
Had the gift of language and
Expression. And that I was
A stronger boy than any
Anyone had ever seen
By the time I began
To learn English.
I owe him credit
For every word
I have written.
Weak now
With age and
Bad lungs, I still
See him as a giant
Handling a chainsaw,
Smelling of forestry and
Gasoline and winter, smiling
At me with eyes deep blue from
Seeing more ocean and sky than I
Ever will know with my own.
His name to me is pappa.
After a few pints of his homemade
Wine, I sometimes let him beat me at Armwrestling. Then we laugh like
Old friends, remembering how
The roles were different back
Then. I am glad I stopped by
For a cuppa on this day. He
Would never ask me to.
Happy Birthday, pappa.
I'd cut a decade from my lifetime
To add a single year
To yours.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
One Sunday
On one of our many births
We
must become the Pappa and Mamma
of an ancient Nazrani tharavadu.
I will go in the morning
And return with
A kilo of beef meat
With bones
Two kilos of tapioca
And may be also a *** of toddy
From the toddy tapper.
While I slice the meat
You will crush the coconut mix
In the grinding stone.
I will come, now and then,
And wipe my face
In the chatta and mundu
Draped folds of yours.
Go away you shameless man
You will dub
The slogan of a coy mistress.
Meanwhile
I’ll drum quick rhythms
On your buttocks
Graced
With pleats.
The kids will see
You’ll repudiate, with your eyes
With the sun
Our bodies also will get warmer
Drops of sweat
Will make studs
On your
Nose.
With the fold of
My chequered mundu
I will wipe them off.
The sun will grow warmer
The toddy inside
Will simmer
In our bodies
An insatiable hunger will torment.
The aroma of
The beef curry with the coconut mix
That you cooked
Will drift into my nose.
Unable to control the craving
I will pick
Tapioca pieces from it and eat.
The hot bits will smolder my tongue.
“You Glutton”
You will then
Whisper to my ears
By the time I wash my hands and sit
Calling out to the kids
And you, to come for lunch
The 12.30 bell will ring in the church.
From that unexpected
Sunday
Which we spent
Stingily
We will set aside
Some memories
for the next creation.
Trans: Shyma P
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
The coca-cocaine parties
The weekend spews at 10
The cycle of sleeping and ********
Repeats itself again
The brown, the crack, the **** the smack
Fuel her replica world
It’s a far off cry from the glamorous life
Promised to the matchstick girl
A head of hair thatched upon
Walls of weak foundation
The chic new style to fill the aisles
And sweep entire nations.
She’s Bambi on ice in a dress so tight
It would make your mother hurl
But we live in a time where all women pine
For the look of the matchstick girl
The big old Pappa Razzi
Guard her every step
From the same hold-hand fanatics
That crave her vinous breath
The punks, the queens, the teenage dreams
Who buy their love with pearls
Stick close to her side and somewhat abide
They’re friends with the matchstick girl.
The Sunday evening voicemails
The daily text of pain
From a desolated mother
Who begs to see her again.
The pleas, the cries, the tears don’t dry
While apologies unfurl
For the sins, the aches and major mistakes
Made by the matchstick girl.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Let's just laugh and be jolly
we'll drink until we can't
realizing our own folly
an alcoholic forward slant
The kids we'll have when older
we'll never know we shan't
alcohol made us bolder
and took off your mama's pants
Long after we got married
and had a couple more
our compulsions slow, unhurried
not really, keeping score
They may ask us in our old age
"Momma, Pappa , how did I get to be?"
well my little prince/princess
your dad/mom, gave alcohol
too me
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
so here I sit alone in our apartment
while he is in his childhood town, cleaning out his dads
cleaning out the drunken chaos and the remains of a life
and tries to air out the smell of death
he is forced to clean out the remains of
a periodic alcoholic's liqour soaked period which ended in the definite end of it all
i'm stuck at work while he is forced to run to the funeral agency, the bank
and an apartment whose walls could tell a story
that would make the ancient greeks' tragedies fade in comparison
he is forced to clean up after his absent dads' death,
a dad who was never there, whose resumé not only includes
the leaving of a son, but also the leaving of life,
all this while i'm looking for washing machines online
//
så här sitter jag ensam i vår lägenhet,
medan han är i barndomsstaden och rensar ur sin pappas
städar bort fyllekaoset och resterna av ett liv
och försöker vädra ut lukten av död
han tvingas städa bort resterna av
en periodares alkohol-indränkta period som slutade i det slutliga slutet på allt
jag är fast på jobbet när han tvingas springa till begravningsbyrån, banken
och en lägenhet vars väggar skulle kunna berätta en historia
som skulle få de gamla grekernas tragedier att blekna i jämförelse
han tvingas städa upp efter sin frånvarande pappas död,
en pappa som aldrig var där, vars cv inte bara innefattar
ett lämnande av en son, utan också lämnandet av ett liv
medans jag letar tvättmaskiner på nätet
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
i grew up in a patch
of green
low rolling hill
tumbling sky
red maple picnics
cool earth
roses at the chain link
spring's surprise
play dates out front
shoddy wooden hideaway
to the rear
woodpile-beware!
sister scarred
angry bees collect
red-shingled horizon
white shack
rear view
laundry-line perimieter
prison yard
beware
invisible fence line
irish drunks
right side
wife shouts
captures best friend
back-rear torment
pup trapped
evil about
boys and bruised knees
cheek kisses
and sunset
bike rides
snack spot
woods of death
the sky fed me
my roots
tightly woven
spanned, undisturbed
summer mornings
on the run
heat like fire
pebbles, glass
walking on
escape, run, be wild
dreams your navigator
loose teeth
mother's hugs
father's presence
marlboroughs
motor, artistically
deconstructed
colored red
powered escape hatch
off-license
long gone
tree trunk porch presence
dead bird picnic
red-slatted bridge
fruit spider visitor
tiny rodent winter traps
screaming zia
e mamma
adniamo
basta!
communion veil
st. albans bound
pappa, look!
gum stuck hair
and
ruined sleeve
tumbled jacks
fruit loop bed
times
mas*h
glass box
from the carpeted
haven
orange-smokey
scent
beat downs behind
the woodstove
hair-dragged reckonings
begging
cries
anger passed down
mother to
mother
to
brother
pray, midnight
smoke
sleepless-haunted
hell
i grew in no-man's land
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
I think I've been tricked into thinking I'm sick.
If you want to know more I can give you the Bic
Just give it a little click
Write me a little 'script?
I'm moody enough to be an emotional poet
And I'm desperate enough that I'll have you know it
I will even all-the-way-down-to-the-bone it
Fake a pretty personality and tell you where to stow it?
I'll sing out "look what I did Pappa!" in a British child's accent
Starring Me! o just me! in a big name musical event
Possibly open a space in my chest for rent
Call a British doctor? "She needs put down, innit."
My emotional range as classical piano keys
Jet black and stark white, smash a fist down and see
But you'll never guess, you'll never guess what's to be....
I've got a vendetta with a psychiatric decree.
I think I've been tricked into BEING sick
And **** you all, I want that ******* Bic
Give your jugular a little stick?
Now write me another 'script.
Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 7:22 AM UTC
i sit now thinking....
about you, dearest Dad
how long it has been, this sad
i am looking to outside's view
how everything seems so new
i am looking through this window
how time has fled so fast and full of sorrow
i still see clearly that i am enjoying the mocca
in that cosy Ragusa ice saloon in Jakarta
we two only on my favourite spot
all delicious things are far from hot
it was a delicate coldness, that mocca
i only want to say i love you very much
and the most happiest Happy Birthday Pappa!
but now you aren't here anymore, not today nor tomorrow
i must admit that that day i was in deepest sorrow
i am looking through this window
the people moving so very slow
like a film in the cinema in slow motion
your coffin passing by left me in greatest emotion
how i wished to go along with you
now i only whisper these words i love you so true
and happiest Happy Birthday to You
soft, tenderly and with a most loving thought
i know that you´ll come here today
melancholic emotions, i am in tears,
and more i have brought
for you Today especially for you my Daddy Dearest
i know Today you´ll be here as the nearest
so i am whispering in your ears
as you know me of course with more tears
the most happiest Happy BirthDay Pappa!
and Many Cosy Returns in Jakarta
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
I spend 3-4 hours a day watching a man swim laps
Back
And
Forth
Back
And
Forth
And then im called to
The hospital
To see my Pappa
And im watching the same thing.
A man going
Back
And
Forth
Back
And
Forth
Dying
Going round in circles.
Dying
Dying
Dying
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
We work-to-rule, we're molls,
We are not unfeeling dolls,
Molls don't make extra cuppas for you,
We write our own rules to suit,
It's up to you to not be rude,
I say, "Pappa don't preach!" to you,
Molls write lots of rules,
They've got their own cooking school,
We cook when we want to,
The world is not run for you,
Yes, molls now have work-to-rules.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
So take a look into
A world
Where nobody its embodied
By the harshness of sin
Earth is our final perdition
So we put our bids in
Make a foundation
Just so we can get buried back in
Sin
Ill be resurrected back to the times
Where our hearts hurt
I see God sheddin' his merciful tears
The pressure is here have no fear
Cuz i know my prayers will be heard
Lost as a sheperd i let the herds
Be led by the blind
Im lost in the sunshine
Clouded with a memory
Full of treachery
I thought these were angels around me
But its demon surroundij' me
Like a ****** of crows
Life is death row
Just waitin' my final time
Then i take my last breathe
Into a world wheres its repeating death
Pity crimes extortions to abortions
To petty thief
Im in a room gettin' through the crowds
Usin' my elbows
I see the prophecy exposed
I seen my thoughts enclosed
Its full of wizardy no magic
Just spiritual philosophy
From past ol ancient tactics
Ol man river don'tsay too mu ch
Cuz its hard to clutch
On to all the madness
Around me my pappa told me
It'll be dayz like this
Judgement Day
Is soon coming this way
And one day ill be tradin' places
With the diabolical hypocrites
Eradicating the angels w ***** faces!!!
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
I wake and yet its today ..a day of wantin away
Tomorro I dont want to hear ...a fear a shiver... a spear
a death I so not want to see yet death was so close i could flee
He died yet is so part of me.. a pappa.. a dad ..a gentry
my rock my heart so I miss ...his sound vice and so smile a bliss
never hatin or questioning my..just a love.. a heart so inside
So dad that I miss ever more
I remember your sound and cant help the tears I still tore
you said that you were ok ..yet death was a second away
tomorro does bring you afore my love..oh my rock my ....
PAPPA!!
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 6:36 AM UTC
Childless park swings pushed by
momma & pappa air,
spray painted t rex teeth
on higher high-rises, blight force glyphs.
Huckleberry over my
persimmon (a bit beyond my abilities)...
to delete prey from jaws, though a
smooth dancer in shape-shifting
crowds, electric **** crow, tinted eyes.
A day in the life...clammy handfuls of
posies, unwrinkling dead presidents.
Sweeping odds in charnel stacks,
knot-haired incense t ***** by rush hour
trains, wolf that warped whiff...
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
~ BY THEODORE ROETHKE
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
We
tripped the snares
mindful aware
stepping over stones.
We
loved the mamma's and Pappa's
heartfelt-crosses
staked
above bones.
We
have three of our own
all of them grown,
none
really stave the cane
Still, here we are
t
o
g
e
t
h
e
r
forever
celebrating
them
in
these our own
halcyon days.
Aug 28, 2022
Aug 28, 2022 at 6:26 AM UTC
Daddy never clutched a bible to his chest
But I'm guessing he wished for one that afternoon when he's blood ran hot and a heart attack creeped on him
I bet he clutched his shirt in agony and anguish
God I prayed
My two knees gave up on me and I kneeled right beside the hospital bed
With the old testament in my lap , gripping his hand tightly
I held on to the last scraps of my being
And God I prayed
Every single night since then I have this reoccurring dream
Its the 17th of may
And I'm in my black dress , hair wrapped in a dainty black turban
There is no life in me
I'm clutching my chest cause it pains
And the tears are streaming down my face as I watch them lower daddy's coffin into the ground ,
The pounding wind of the early winter is cruel and mocking
And I want to scream and tell them to stop,
Its a mistake
No
My daddy's still alive
But he's body is so cold
Pappa tsoga , why o tonya so?
Pappa ....
I'm standing there and my legs buckle under my weight
And it hurts to breathe and it hurts to blink
And I'm buried in tears, not silent and controlled tears but loud and unrestrained
Flooding out in harsh breathes.
And it dawns on me that
O tsamaile papa
And I must now
Stumble and crash through this life thing without him
With this prominent pain where he ought to be
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
rat-a-tat-tat, the metal annihilator
taught our ears its foreign tongue,
in the hands of violator
takka takka's sung
sowing death and violation
hungry for the mutilation
of a child, of a nation,
brat-a-tat spells termination
it was the third primordial sinning,
first was greed, then came envy,
as long as greed 'n envy's winning,
third is sure to make his entry
bloodshed with green mama, jealousy,
goaded by lust, spouse, father, king,
as one, begetters with their progeny,
takka takka sing
altogether, takka takka takka,
baby, child, mamma 'n pappa,
in the name of Phi Theta Kappa
takka takka sing
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 11:57 AM UTC
"pappa" i call so...as you are to me
Though you are unaware of me
As I"m are inexistent in the universe
Longing to be born as your unique verse ..
"Pappa", the only name I know
For my mumma carries only you
Along with me in her thoughts and dreams!!
I know you are our only world
And final word
with nothing beyond...
Thanks for the little care
You shower upon my mumma
With which she nourishes me.
Though she and me deserve more...
Yet are gratified, contented
Are we!!
Me and mumma love you pappa
And we care for your being good
Love to be born so soon
To grow up with your love and care...
Love you pappa..
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
Family what a lovely looking tree, amazing how it makes you feel deep with-in.
You can always turn to some one for some help solving a problem. You laugh you cry! Family are your guardian you are they angel.
They teach you how to walk and talk with respect, they cuddle you when you need it and leave you with that warm fuzzy feeling.
Your birthdays are always special, balloons and cake for you to remember. Blow out the candles and make a wish for something special.
But sometimes family can be the worst thing in your life, you never saw it coming now your family has disowned you.
They don't appreciate your pleasure or the love been in your life, it's against all they tought you, they feel like you've let them down.
No mama or pappa Get out from our house! there's no food in ya cupboard, no water to bath or shower. Your brothers drug habit causes such madness.
But his family still has time to help him. Your family tree is broken and cold you never did drugs or caused madness Oh No.
But family have chossern to love who they want depending on the day if you lucky you might get a smile that's been searching for ya soul.
JidosReality 3.3.14
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC