Famous Family Poems - Page 2

21 - 30 of 30 Poems

  1. 21. Life's Scars

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    A poem full of wisdom about relationships. How ironic is it that the people we love, the most important people in our lives, are the ones we often treat the worst. While the guests who come into our lives temporarily, we always treat politely and with a smile. Shouldn't it be the opposite?

    They say the world is round, and yet
    I often think it square,
    So many little hurts we get
    From corners here and there.
    But one great truth in life I've found,
    While journeying to the West-
    The only folks who really wound
    Are those we love the best.

    The man you thoroughly despise
    Can rouse your wrath, 'tis true;
    Annoyance in your heart will rise
    At things mere strangers do;
    But those are only passing ills;
    This rule all lives will prove;
    The rankling wound which aches and thrills
    Is dealt by hands we love.

    The choicest garb, the sweetest grace,
    Are oft to strangers shown;
    The careless mien, the frowning face,
    Are given to our own.
    We flatter those we scarcely know,
    We please the fleeting guest,
    And deal full many a thoughtless blow
    To those who love us best.

    Love does not grow on every tree,
    Nor true hearts yearly bloom.
    Alas for those who only see
    This cut across a tomb!
    But, soon or late, the fact grows plain
    To all through sorrow's test:
    The only folks who give us pain
    Are those we love the best.

    Life's Scars By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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    The writer has hit the nail on the head. We treat strangers with grace and family with scorn. Our family will disapprove of our life choices, whereas strangers will not. A depressed soul...

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  3. 22. A Holiday

    Famous Poem

    Ella Wheeler Wilcox was an American poet who lived from 1850-1919. She was known as a poet even before she graduated high school. Many of her poems touch on themes of family and relationships. In this poem, The wife wants her husband to demonstrate he still loves her, "to prove the life of love", by spending quality time over the holiday with her and their children. Quality time on a holiday is how to take care of your family and demonstrate your love, not gifts! The Husband doesn't get it. He thinks she doesn't appreciate his hard work. He is running a business to take care of her, he just bought her a valuable gift and yet she still wants more from him.

    The Wife
    The house is like a garden,
    The children are the flowers,
    The gardener should come methinks
    And walk among his bowers,
    Oh! lock the door on worry
    And shut your cares away,
    Not time of year, but love and cheer,
    Will make a holiday.

    The Husband
    Impossible! You women do not know
    The toil it takes to make a business grow.
    I cannot join you until very late,
    So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.

    The Wife
    The feast will be like Hamlet
    Without a Hamlet part:
    The home is but a house, dear,
    Till you supply the heart.
    The Xmas gift I long for
    You need not toil to buy;
    Oh! give me back one thing I lack -
    The love-light in your eye.

    The Husband
    Of course I love you, and the children too.
    Be sensible, my dear, it is for you
    I work so hard to make my business pay.
    There, now, run home, enjoy your holiday.

    The Wife (turning)
    He does not mean to wound me,
    I know his heart is kind.
    Alas! that man can love us
    And be so blind, so blind.
    A little time for pleasure,
    A little time for play;
    A word to prove the life of love
    And frighten care away!
    Tho' poor my lot in some small cot
    That were a holiday.

    The Husband (musing)
    She has not meant to wound me, nor to vex -
    Zounds! but 'tis difficult to please the sex.
    I've housed and gowned her like a very queen
    Yet there she goes, with discontented mien.
    I gave her diamonds only yesterday:
    Some women are like that, do what you may.

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  5. 23. One Sister Have I In Our House

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    This poem is about Emily Dickinson's sister-in-law, Susan. Emily lived with her sister, Lavinia, ("One Sister have I in our house"), and she had a sister-in-law, Susan, her brother Austin's wife, who lived next door, ("one a hedge away"). "There's only one recorded" (Lavinia is her only biological sister). "But both belong to me" (she considers Susan to be a sister too, although they are actually sisters-in-law).

    One Sister have I in our house,
    And one, a hedge away.
    There's only one recorded,
    But both belong to me.

    One came the road that I came --
    And wore my last year's gown --
    The other, as a bird her nest,
    Builded our hearts among.

    She did not sing as we did --
    It was a different tune --
    Herself to her a music
    As Bumble bee of June.

    Today is far from Childhood --
    But up and down the hills
    I held her hand the tighter --
    Which shortened all the miles --

    And still her hum
    The years among,
    Deceives the Butterfly;
    Still in her Eye
    The Violets lie
    Mouldered this many May.

    I spilt the dew --
    But took the morn --
    I chose this single star
    From out the wide night's numbers --
    Sue - forevermore!

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  6. 24. My Papa's Waltz

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    Theodore Roethke is the small boy in this poem. His father died when he was just fifteen. Roethke struggled with mental illness all his life. His first book of poetry, Open House, was published in 1941. His relationship with his father occupied a large part of his writings.
    In this poem it is unclear if the memories of his drunk father putting him to bed are happy or sad, abusive or merry, scary or sweet.

    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.

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  7. 25. Mother To Son

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    Langston Hughes was a prominent writer during the Harlem Renaissance. In this poem, a mother uses the metaphor of life being like a staircase to give advice to her son. While there are difficult times, you must keep moving like you would while walking up a staircase.

    Well, son, I'll tell you:
    Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
    It's had tacks in it,
    And splinters,
    And boards torn up,
    And places with no carpet on the floor-
    Bare.
    But all the time
    I'se been a-climbin' on,
    And reachin' landin's,
    And turnin' corners,
    And sometimes goin' in the dark
    Where there ain't been no light.
    So, boy, don't you turn back.
    Don't you set down on the steps.
    'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
    Don't you fall now-
    For I'se still goin', honey,
    I'se still climbin',
    And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

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    I was not a very good student when I was in school. I did the minimal amount of work required, retained little and barely paid attention. In 1965, my 8th grade English teacher read MOTHER TO...

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  8. 26. A Father To His Son

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    Carl Sandburg lived from 1878-1967. Some of his works have received Pulitzer Prizes, and Sandburg had a middle school named after him. In this poem, a father is thinking about the advice he wishes to impart to his son.

    A father sees his son nearing manhood.
    What shall he tell that son?
    "Life is hard; be steel; be a rock."
    And this might stand him for the storms
    and serve him for humdrum monotony
    and guide him among sudden betrayals
    and tighten him for slack moments.
    "Life is a soft loam; be gentle; go easy."
    And this too might serve him.
    Brutes have been gentled where lashes failed.
    The growth of a frail flower in a path up
    has sometimes shattered and split a rock.
    A tough will counts. So does desire.
    So does a rich soft wanting.
    Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
    Tell him too much money has killed men
    and left them dead years before burial:
    the quest of lucre beyond a few easy needs
    has twisted good enough men
    sometimes into dry thwarted worms.
    Tell him time as a stuff can be wasted.
    Tell him to be a fool every so often
    and to have no shame over having been a fool
    yet learning something out of every folly
    hoping to repeat none of the cheap follies
    thus arriving at intimate understanding
    of a world numbering many fools.
    Tell him to be alone often and get at himself
    and above all tell himself no lies about himself
    whatever the white lies and protective fronts
    he may use against other people.
    Tell him solitude is creative if he is strong
    and the final decisions are made in silent rooms.
    Tell him to be different from other people
    if it comes natural and easy being different.
    Let him have lazy days seeking his deeper motives.
    Let him seek deep for where he is born natural.
    Then he may understand Shakespeare
    and the Wright brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov,
    Michael Faraday and free imaginations
    Bringing changes into a world resenting change.
    He will be lonely enough
    to have time for the work
    he knows as his own.

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  9. 27. Advice To A Son

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    Ernest Hemingway was an American author and poet who lived from 1899-1961. He loved adventure and used his various experiences to inspire his writing. This poem was his chance to impart wisdom on his sons. He was married four times and had three sons.

    Never trust a white man,
    Never kill a Jew,
    Never sign a contract,
    Never rent a pew.
    Don't enlist in armies;
    Nor marry many wives;
    Never write for magazines;
    Never scratch your hives.
    Always put paper on the seat,
    Don't believe in wars,
    Keep yourself both clean and neat,
    Never marry whores.
    Never pay a blackmailer,
    Never go to law,
    Never trust a publisher,
    Or you'll sleep on straw.
    All your friends will leave you
    All your friends will die
    So lead a clean and wholesome life
    And join them in the sky.

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  10. 28. I Hear America Singing

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    Walt Whitman was an American poet who lived from 1819-1892. Some of his poetry was controversial because of the nature of its content, but he is believed to be the father of free verse (but he did not invent this form of poetry). He is also seen as a "poet of democracy" because he wrote so strongly about the American character. In this poem, Whitman shows how America is made up of a variety of people. It's the stories of those people who make America the strong and unique nation that it is.

    I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
    Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
    The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
    The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
    The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
    The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
    The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
    The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
    Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
    The day what belongs to the day - at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
    Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

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  11. 29. A Cradle Song

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    A poem from his book, Songs of Innocence, and of experience by William Blake, a lullaby of unparalleled beauty.

    Sweet dreams form a shade
    O'er my lovely infant's head;
    Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
    By happy, silent, moony beams.

    Sweet sleep with soft down
    Weave thy brows an infant crown.
    Sweet sleep, Angel mild,
    Hover o'er my happy child.

    Sweet smiles in the night
    Hover over my delight;
    Sweet smiles, Mother's smiles,
    All the livelong night beguiles.

    Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
    Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
    Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
    All the dovelike moans beguiles.

    Sleep sleep, happy child,
    All creation slept and smil'd;
    Sleep sleep, happy sleep,
    While o'er thee thy mother weep.

    Sweet babe, in thy face
    Holy image I can trace.
    Sweet babe, once like thee,
    Thy maker lay and wept for me,

    Wept for me for thee for all,
    When he was an infant small.
    Thou his image ever see.
    Heavenly face that smiles on thee,

    Smiles on thee on me on all,
    Who became an infant small,
    Infant smiles are His own smiles,
    Heaven & earth to peace beguiles.

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    Family where life begins and love never ends.

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  12. 30. Nurse's Song

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    Published in Songs of Innocence in 1789, the poem tells of a Nurse who is watching her children playing out in the fields. She calls them to come in, but they protest, for to them it is still light and there is still time to play.
    The poem fits in with the theme of innocence, as the children are oblivious to the dangers of playing outside late at night. The Nurse is of a jovial and warmhearted nature, and she allows the children to continue with their games.

    When the voices of children are heard on the green,
    And laughing is heard on the hill,
    My heart is at rest within my breast,
    And everything else is still.

    'Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
    And the dews of night arise;
    Come, come leave off play, and let us away
    Till the morning appears in the skies.'

    'No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
    And we cannot go to sleep;
    Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
    And the hills are all cover'd with sheep.'

    'Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
    And then go home to bed.'
    The little ones leapèd, and shoutèd, and laugh'd
    And all the hills echoèd.

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    It's so great. I read this poem when I was in 7th grade. I love it so much.

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21 - 30 of 30 Poems

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