What are some poems about a good or bad parent child relationship? I need some, please help me!!
Katya, you can use the search feature on the Classical Poets List above:
Type in these key words, one at a time: "Father", "Mother", "Daughter", "Son". That should give you plenty of poems to choose from.
Les
There are some beautiful poem given to me about mother-daughter relationships, both of which I used in my speech.
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ola
Here's one I wrote in another thread...a little explanation is in order.....there was a discussion regarding odd spam phrases in emails.....Marian had one that said "Improve your mothers account combustion" and asked if there was a poem coming....so.....
"my mother's account combustion
apparently needs improving
i didn't know that it burned at all
or if it had even been moving
I called my mom early this morning
she wasnt prepared to be nagging
So I sprung the big question upon her
if she thought her combustion was lagging
she said "what combustion?" i said "your account"
she said her accounts were in order
except for the recent prescriptions she bought
smuggled through the Canadian border
One thing about moms is they always will try
to answer your questions with care
even such ones that dont make any sense
if a child of hers asks, she'll be there"
'Father, dear father, come home with me now'
a nineteenth century temperance society tear-jerker from Henry Clay Work. Mary pleads with her father to leave off boozing in the pub and come home to where her little brother is dying:
[www.mindspring.com]
Also these ones from the late Shel Silverstein:
‘Boy Named Sue’
[www.banned-width.com]
and its not so well known sequel:
‘The Father of the Boy Named Sue’
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Some of Hilair Belloc's cautionary tales and Albert and the Lion etc.
Children Learn What They Live
By Dorothy Law Nolte, PhD
1972
If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.
If children live with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.
If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.
If children live with ridicule, they learn to feel shy.
If children live with jealousy, they learn to feel envy.
If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.
If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence.
If children live with tolerance, they learn patience.
If children live with praise, they learn appreciation.
If children live with acceptance, they learn to love.
If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.
If children live with recognition, they learn it is good to have a goal.
If children live with sharing, they learn generosity.
If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness.
If children live with fairness, they learn justice.
If children live with kindness and consideration, they learn respect.
If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.
If children live with friendliness, they learn to find love in the world.
‘The Father of the Boy Named Sue’
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Superb! How did I miss that one the first time 'round?
And he hit me in the navel and knocked out a piece of my lint.
Har!
Please send me the relationship poem
Sure, would you like some flowers with that, or perhaps a box of candy. Just send $100 to the address at the top of this page and we'll get right on it.
Les
Come on, Les. Devender said please.
Ok, Glenda since you asked so nicely, I will print a relationship poem about parents and children. Because it is free YOU may send it to Devender. Here goes:
Ogden Nash - Tableau At Twilight
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.
Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.
Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.
Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I'd rather it melted somewhere else.
Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,
Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.
Les
Les, I like this so much that I am keeping it for myself. Devender is on his own. If you don't want to send the flowers and candy to Devender, I'll take them!
Here you go Glenda!
[www.bunches.co.uk] />
Les
Thank you! I appreciate the thought.
try this poem I wrote it myself.
MY MOTHERS SPECIAL GIFT
As I sit here thinking of the days gone by.
I begin to shake and I begin to cry.
I remember a special gift my mother gave to me.
How it went right to my heart where it was meant to be.
Oh it wasn't made of diamonds or it wasn't made of gold.
Oh it wasn't made of paper and it wasn't really old.
You see it had no value to any one but me.
Though it really helped to set me free.
Oh I remember that special gift as though I got it yesterday.
How she made sure I had it before she passed away.
You see her days were numbered and the end was near.
Though I never told anybody I was full of fear.
For I knew my mom was dying and there was nothing I could do.
I had seen all the pain and suffering that she had to go through.
I remember thinking why couldn't it be me.
For everybody loved her but no one cared for me.
Then one day it happened, to the hospital she did go.
The ambulance came and got her but it seemed really slow.
That night the doctor told us there was nothing he could do.
At the most she had left a day or maybe two.
The next day I went to see her in her hospital bed.
That’s when to my younger brother she lovingly said.
Please let your older brother kiss me good-bye last.
For you have always gotten it in the days that past.
Then I bent and kissed her and the fear inside did go.
For I knew shed always love me that kiss had told me so.
You see it wasn't made of diamonds or it wasn't made of gold.
But it had more value than anything that’s sold.
That night as I lay thinking of that special kiss we shared.
I knew deep in my heart just how much she really cared.
At that very moment I looked into the sky.
There was a new star shinning my mother said good-bye.
I WILL LOVE YOU ALWAYS MOM
By: Roger Crowder