Dads are just the best, aren’t they? They work hard, put up with so much, make us smile, and make everything okay. Father’s Day is a wonderful occasion to show the Dads in our lives how much we appreciate them. Here are some awesome Dad poems to celebrate every dad.
Fathers Mean the World Fathers are the ones who work so hard, Building bridges and fixing up the yard, Driving trucks and feeding their families, Their hard work is the backbone of society.
They have toiled in the sun and rain, Working hard to help ease the family’s pain, Their dedication and hard work, never in vain, For their love and care, there is no refrain.
They have built homes and schools and more, Their contributions we cannot ignore, From fixing everything that’s broken, To teaching us lessons that remain unspoken.
Fathers are the unsung heroes of our time, Their sacrifices and hard work are a true sign, Of their unwavering dedication and love, That lifts us up and makes us soar above.
We need fathers in this world today more than ever, To guide us through life’s twists and turns, we must endeavor, To honor their hard work and sacrifice, And cherish their love and care, forever in our lives. ~ Dev Sommerville
My Dad is My Rock My dad has always been my rock, Supporting me as I chased my dreams around the clock, Encouraging me to go on the craziest adventures, And taking me seriously, no matter the venture. He gave me advice and encouragement, Even when I was feeling lost and disheartened, His words of wisdom, always on point, Helped me navigate life’s twists and turns with every joint.
With his unwavering support, I gained strength, To pursue my passions, no matter the length, For all the times he’s been there, day by day, My dad’s love and support, I’ll always repay. So on this Father’s Day, I want to say, Thank you, Dad, for all the support along the way, Your love and care have helped me soar, And for that, I’ll cherish you forevermore. ~ Winnie Smith-Garland
Dads Show Us the Way Dads are the guiding lights that lead the way, Raising kids to be strong, brave, and never stray, Teaching us to try hard, and put ourselves to the test, To see the funny side of things, and do our best.
Dads inspire us to be optimistic and kind, To find our mission in life, and always keep in mind, That success comes to those who never give up, Who work hard and never hold a grudge.
With patience and love, dads show us the way, To live in the here and now, and seize each day, To face life’s challenges with grace and ease, And to never ever give up on our dreams.
Dads teach us values that shape our lives, To be kind to others, and treat them with respect and thrive, Their love and guidance, we’ll cherish forevermore, For dads play a crucial role in the world, that we can’t ignore. ~ Harrison Beslow
My Dad, My Teacher From the very start, my dad’s been there, Teaching me to ride my bike without a care. When my toys broke, he fixed them with a grin, And when I needed help, he always pitched in.
Through every scrape and tear, he wiped away my fears, Making everything okay, and drying up my tears. He’s been my rock, my guide, my hero, all in one, And I’m grateful for everything he’s done.
He’s taught me to be kind, and to spread my wings, And he’s always been there to help with anything. With his patience and love, he’s helped me through it all, And I’m grateful for his support, big and small.
I’m lucky to have such an awesome dad, And I’m grateful for all the fun we’ve had. He’s the best friend I could ever wish for, And I’ll always love him more and more. ~ Reese Carlington
My loving dad is always there, To show me love and give me care, With hugs and kisses, he makes my day, I love my daddy more than words can say. ~ Louie Clyborne
On this Mother’s Day, May 12th 2024, let’s take a moment to honor and celebrate the incredible women who have shaped our lives with their love, wisdom, and endless sacrifices. From the comforting embrace of a mother’s arms to the gentle guidance through life’s challenges, mothers hold a special place in our hearts. Today, let’s not only express our gratitude to our own mothers but also extend our appreciation to all the moms around the world. Let’s cherish and remember the countless sweet memories we’ve shared with our moms, from bedtime stories to comforting hugs, from laughter-filled moments to silent acts of love. May this day be a reminder to treasure every precious moment with our moms and show them the love and appreciation they truly deserve. Happy Mother’s Day to all the amazing moms out there!
I Cannot Remember My Mother
By Rabindranath Tagore and translated by Sishu Bholanath
I cannot remember my mother only sometimes in the midst of my play a tune seems to hover over my playthings, the tune of some song that she used to hum while rocking my cradle.
I cannot remember my mother but when in the early autumn morning the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air the scent of the morning service in the temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.
I cannot remember my mother only when from my bedroom window I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky, I feel that the stillness of my mother’s gaze on my face has spread all over the sky.
Sonnets Are Full of Love
Christina Rossetti
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome Has many sonnets: so here now shall be One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home, To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstare while I go and come, and so because you love me, and because I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name: In you not fourscore years can dim the flame of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws of time and change and mortal life and death.
To My Mother
Edgar Allan Poe
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another,Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,”Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.My mother—my own mother, who died early, Was but the mother of myself; but you are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knew By that infinity with which my wife Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
Mothering Sunday
George Hare Leonard
It’s the day of the year, The one day of the year, When I’ll see my dear Mother And bring her joy, Celebrating Mother’s Day on Sunday.
And now I’m off to get my special cake, From the baker’s, for heaven’s sake. He promised me the best he’d make, A treat to take And celebrate for Mother’s sake.
I have always known, as I strolled by,
A certain lane, where every day,
Without fail, no matter how they try,
Violets lie,
As I walked home on Sunday.
My sister Jane is serving-maid To the Squire’s lady, come what may. Each year, she’s played her part, and stayed, Prepared dinner, and never strayed For Mother’s special day.
Mother’ll come to Church, you’ll see – It’s the day she cherishes the most – “The one,” she’ll say, “that’s made for me.” And so it will be: Every Mother’s Day, for all to toast.
The boys will all return from town,
Not one missing this special day.
And every girl will not let down
To display her gown,
On Mothering Sunday.
It’s the day of all the year, The one day above all others. And here I am, my dear Mother, Bringing you cheer, On Mothering Sunday.
SUPPOSING I became a champa flower, just for fun, and grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, “Baby, where are you?” and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading Ramayana, and the tree’s shadow fell over your hair and your lap, I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book, just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow-shed with the lighted lamp in your hand, I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
“Where have you been, you naughty child?”
“I won’t tell you, mother.” That’s what you and I would say then.
H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III Wan Ko Yeshe Norbu Holiest Tathagata was awarded the title of “Master of Oriental Art” at year 1991. The representative presenting that award praised H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III for restoring the 5,000 year old culture of China. In 1994, the 5,612 experts and scholars representing forty-eight countries and regions at the World Poets and Culture Congress unanimously named H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III as a “Distinguished International Master.” However, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III did not want to accept such honors and continued making further contributions to mankind in a quiet and selfless manner.
H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III is selfless and noble, and the first person in Buddhism to possess substantive holy realization power of a Buddha and perfectly flawless accomplishments at the pinnacle of the Five Vidyas. One of the Five Vidyas is called Sabdavidys (sound vidya), including literature, poems, music, drama, etc. Here are few examples of his mastery in this field.
The poems of this ancient Buddha H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, such as His qi jue poems (four-line poems with seven characters to a line and a strict tonal pattern and rhyme scheme) and qi lu poems (eight-line poems with seven characters to a line and a strict tonal pattern and rhyme scheme), retain the ancient poetic style and have reached a level on par with that of the ancient great poets. However, in the area of expressing philosophy, His Holiness’s poetry has surpassed the poetry of the ancient virtuous ones. It is self-evident that H.H. Wan Ko Yeshe Norbu Holiest Tathagata is truly the most outstanding master of Chinese poetry from ancient times to the present.
After you are enraptured by poems of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha IIIand reflect on His poetic style, you will discover that H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III has reached the peak of perfection in both the hao fang and the wan yue styles. Those are the two major styles of the ci type of Chinese poetry. The hao fang style is bold and powerful, while the wan yue style is soft, elegant, and graceful.
Take, for example, the bold and stirring ci type of poem entitled “To the Tune of Nian-Nu-Jiao.”（念奴嬌） It is an excellent poem due to its extensive and powerful spirit that moves the universe as well as its expansive and transcendent poetic perspective. You cannot find such an exceptional poem anywhere else in the world. In contrast, the ci type of poem entitled “To the Tune of Ye-Ban-Le”（夜半樂） has the feel of the enchanting moon on the Xiao and Xiang Rivers, the reflection of towering pagodas on the water, and the beautiful sound of a Chinese lute played under willow trees. How enrapturing, elegant, and charming that poem is!
Actually, we lack the understanding to give an in-depth appraisal of the poetry of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. However, we do know that writing poetry is a simple matter for this ancient Buddha and represents less than a drop of water in the vast ocean of His Holiness’s talents.
To the Tune of “Jiang Jun Song”
Plum Fragrance in the Holy Realm
Reveal her icy bearing and proud bones,
See how plum blossom commands the scene,
The crowd of beauties suddenly lacks color,
Seductive peach has lost its looks.
A few casual strokes,
So many eons of wind and dust.
The smoke and fire of the human world all disappears,
Leaving only a pure fragrance from the paper,
It wafts over me, awakening my mind.
The smile of the enchanted dream still remains,
Buddha Vajradhara has come
Three times to this world.
To this Buddha Land of merciful compassion
That great one has brought purity,
Feelings of the brush,
Traces of the brush,
One smile in the wind and dust,
Now the wind and dust,
So many eons of wind and dust.
To the Tune of “Jiang Jun Song”
Cold Harmony Heralds the Spring
I remember: myriad lofty peaks,
And scattered everywhere, sparkling gems of light,
The smile of cold fragrance,
Red plum trees hanging from the cliffs.
Unhurried, gentle,
Such feelings of tranquility.
Cliff walls and high valleys – where have they gone?
Midnight dreams of branches beneath a drunken moon
Ah, she returns after roaming in vast space.
Roaming thoughts,
And a return to the great world.
Drifts of fragrance wind around pavilion and hall,
Returning emptiness,
As before, to the great world.
Open the window,
Graceful she stands,
There is a plum tree,
Growing tall and strong,
Growing tall and strong.
To the Tune of “Ying Ge Chun”
Strong Feelings in the Scroll
On the paper, this shade of pink,
Ah, who can guess its real color?
Next to her, all the flower queens are slaves,
Ah, alluring brows and vermilion ink songs.
Ah, she remains here in the painting,
Until the guest comes.
Tenderness everywhere heralds the dawn of spring,
Ah, the guest has gone,
Yet later will come again.
Ah, gaze in the distance,
Breaths of cold harmony,
Ah, the perfume of the plum,
Tenderness in the scroll,
Tenderness in the scroll.
To the Tune of “Pu Sa Mahn”
Mind Realm
One dark, one pale, a pair of buds grow on the
branches
Light green, dark green, samadhi nourishes the world
Following karma, you lightly dance and float,
Immutably still, yourself an ancient Buddha.
You ask about the color of the plum blossom?
It is learning contained in virtue.
Wait until it is plucked, and without bonds
Then freely hold it and turn it in your hands.
To the Tune of “Wang Hai Chao”
The Plum Greets All Beings
The frozen purity of a jade grove
The startled soul of space
Spreads out far to east and west.
Cold fragrance, down of pink,
And though only a single spray of blossoms,
Loveliness greater than any mood,
So time itself becomes a mulberry dream.
Look: wind and bone expressed in ink,
In ten-thousand ages it will never fade.
The compassion of an ancient Buddha,
Captivates all beings, and brings them to truth.
Color artistry, free and graceful,
Powerful brushstrokes crossing vast space,
An atmosphere of erudition,
These words and paintings, year after year,
Bring constant blessings,
The auspiciousness of plum blossoms.
Look: within is a mysterious power,
Which I offer to the ten-thousand ages,
From the brush, an elegant air.
Just look at delightful spring color,
And all beings will enter holiness.
Vocal Mastery
His Holiness is also a vocalist whose songs are unique masterpieces. Whether singing in a robust, resonant, stirring, and thunderous manner, or in a quietly elegant, floating, light, sweet, and captivating manner, His Holinesss vocal performances are marvelous and heavenly. His Holinesss songs and lyrics contain true Buddha-dharma. They teach goodness, impart wisdom, and benefit people. Moreover, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III composes the melody, writes the lyrics, and sings these songs all by Himself. There are many audiotapes and CDs of these songs. Even expert vocalists have sought the guidance of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III on singing. An example of this is a disciple of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III by the name of Jacky Cheung, who is known as a tremendous singer.
Cold Mountain (Hanshan) was a legendary master of Hermetic poetry and Zen practice, although there are few records about his life in the history. Yet his poems, more than three hundred pieces, miraculously survived. He lived in southeastern China during the Tang dynasty, approximately 1300 years ago. People said that Hanshan was the incarnation of Manjushri Bodhisattva. His poems are full of inner realization wisdom. I am really surprised that there are many English versions of his poems. There are even some podcasts to narrate the poems for the audience. I do hope that different cultures can learn from each other, adapting the good parts from each other. Let us work together to make the world a better place for all beings.
Based on the hundreds of poems he wrote on the walls of the cave where he made his home after leaving behind what he called “the dusty world” of getting, spending and delusion, so he could spend his life in the natural world with his heart and mind uninterrupted by such distractions, as his poem said : “with nothing to do I write poems on rock walls/trusting the current like an unmoored boat.” Hanshan found that he was often able to put an end to what he called “useless mixed-up thinking” and enjoy a good measure of peace and tranquility as a “person of nondoing” who wandered in the mountains, idly read a copy of an ancient sage, or played his humble lute on the precipice outside his cave.
Living a life unhindered by worldly concerns, much of Hanshan’s beautifully imagined poetry is filled with compassionate discernment, profound tranquility, and a quiet but compelling purity of unexpected insight. But that is not all. The hermit-poet known as Hanshan discovered that it is not as easy to leave the world behind as one might think. Decades of solitude and wandering brought forward other elements from the full depth of his humanity, and so his poems also express his loneliness, longing for a companion of the way, sorrow at the loss of friends, as well as an occasional biting critique of the many ways his fellow human beings created harm in the world, though it must be said that even in these poems there is a compassion that reveals Hanshan’s deepest longing for others to know the wholeness, serenity and peace he experienced within his tender and all too human heart.
Here are some poems translated by Gary Snyder
1.
Men ask the way to Cold Mountain Cold Mountain: there’s no through trail. In summer, ice doesn’t melt The rising sun blurs in swirling fog. How did I make it? My heart’s not the same as yours. If your heart was like mine You’d get it and be right here.
2.
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there’s been no rain The pine sings, but there’s no wind. Who can leap the world’s ties And sit with me among the white clouds?
3.
In my first thirty years of life I roamed hundreds and thousands of miles. Walked by rivers through deep green grass Entered cities of boiling red dust. Tried drugs, but couldn’t make Immortal; Read books and wrote poems on history. Today I’m back at Cold Mountain: I’ll sleep by the creek and purify my ears.
4.
I can’t stand these bird songs Now I’ll go rest in my straw shack. The cherry flowers are scarlet The willow shoots up feathery. Morning sun drives over blue peaks Bright clouds wash green ponds. Who knows that I’m out of the dusty world Climbing the southern slope of Cold Mountain?
5.
There’s a naked bug at Cold Mountain With a white body and a black head. His hand holds two book scrolls, One the Way and one its Power. His shack’s got no pots or oven, He goes for a long walk with his shirt and pants askew. But he always carries the sword of wisdom: He means to cut down senseless craving.
Cold Mountain is a house Without beams or walls. The six doors left and right are open The hall is sky blue. The rooms all vacant and vague The east wall beats on the west wall At the center nothing. Borrowers don’t bother me In the cold I build a little fire When I’m hungry I boil up some greens. I’ve got no use for the kulak With his big barn and pasture – He just sets up a prison for himself. Once in he can’t get out. Think it over – You know it might happen to you.
7.
If I hide out at Cold Mountain Living off mountain plants and berries – All my lifetime, why worry? One follows his karma through. Days and months slip by like water, Time is like sparks knocked off flint. Go ahead and let the world change – I’m happy to sit among these cliffs.
8.
My home was at Cold Mountain from the start, Rambling among the hills, far from trouble. Gone, and a million things leave no trace Loosed, and it flows through galaxies A fountain of light, into the very mind – Not a thing, and yet it appears before me: Now I know the pearl of the Buddha nature Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.
Peace LiLy 