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Prodigal Blues

Riding my life
Like a run-a-way train
Moving from
One track to that
Howling, crying,
Screaming at the moon
Only my voice came back
Only the echo came back
When I was a boy
Daddy told me
Grow tall
Yes and billy dont crawl
Taught me how to ride
Set me out on my own
And I never came back
And yes Id do it again
Oh wouldnt you
Yeah Id do it again
A-huh oh yeah
Do it again

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song performed by Billy Idol
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Path of a Gambler

A man sought coin in a voluminous fashion,
a few more pounds to add to his loot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.

A father has lost his son to a single action;
when he craved to add to the tempting fruit,
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.

His gambler's heart soon became a beacon;
racing, waiting for a spotter's toot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.

This one risk is only but a fraction
of the goal which he was to pursuit.
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.

When his hands started to feel the burden,
one that he had been too blind to compute,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.

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poem by Michael Roysdon
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Big Joe

Once by a star a beautiful bouncy baby was born
The blooming fields were full of the finest corn
Little Joe was a longed for heir in a noble line
The village celebrated and blessed him in wine

Chorus:
A prodigal son entered their life
A perfect future with no strife…

Time will tell he grew up a very handsome man
Succeeded in all and always with a perfect plan
Little Joe got only A’s in his expensive school
His mother adored her most precious jewel

Chorus:
A prodigal intelligent famous son
Life for him was always fun…

Times went by and Joe had to go to the City
His father’s pride but mum thought a pity

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poem by Isabel Lavender
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Oh Mistress-Mine (Revised)

Oh Mistress-Mine, like the Old Testament's Prodigal Son you
return unto the fold so stealthily, coming to us like a Prodigal
Daughter; you've rested well, it's seen in your demeanour,
you are calm and resigned as sensed in your serenity

Will it be another foray into unchartered territory where
you'll do innovative work, showing how we, like you, can
stay home courageously, with long disappearances, sudden
returns as a new moon after an eclipse

To shyly smile, win new acolytes with strict orders, rejecting
irrational demands made eagerly by troops who stayed
guarding sacred portals from barbarian horde invasions -
uneducated clients who demand non-entitled services

We are a profession fighting for executive recognition of
our smooth relays of foreign texts into a civilised tongue,
one that is understood by the Anglo-Saxon hordes rampaging
south from the cold northern slopes

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Prodigal Son

In a place where outlaws abound from the range
? ? ? on a day mountains has fallen to falls? ? ?
In a land where boys are forbiden to grow
And mell is the only master
Were the higway ends and the desert breakes
And buildings are bendt from great earthquackes
And statesmen crawl on their bellys like snakes
And feed of the public hunger
In a land were sky-scrapers scratch the sky
And delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie
Papa stands on the corner he ? ? ? waitin to beat the drum? ? ?
Welcome home my prodigal son
When rivers run raging through city streets
And great eagels have fallen from their loofty peaks
And policemen moonlight the sideshow freeks
For the final crime is commited
When presidents ride in ford mustangs
And the black man releases his caddilac ? ? ? fangs? ? ?
And your chech died in bed as the landlord thanks the young girl next door
For the rent

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song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Parents And The Prodigal Sons

at this point
of their lives the stingy parents
now dead
shall have no regrets
for then their time shall come
to squander
what was saved: land and jewelries
and whatever
shall be thrown away like garbage
for the pigs,

sometimes one asks
if the prodigal sons are prodigal
because when they
were young
they were deprived of what
is due

kids who were not allowed to play
stored in the room

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The beloved and the wife

I aimed at a fruit.
Some one had got it.
I was in pain, not in anger.
I shall wait to have it
If and when it is left over,
Or given by bits.

On the other hand,
I had a fruit.
Someone stealthily bit.
I threw away,
Not with pain, but with anger.
Not to have anymore,
If returned as reformed.

Why are two standards-
Prodigal beloved and prodigal wife?
Claim of ownership is the cause
25.05.2002, Pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Prodigal Son

My soul is grieved and my spirit in sorrow
My flesh is weak and I am without virtue
On my knees I stay as tears fill my eyes
That my eyes were a great ocean
Then will I flood the earth with my tears
And that my voice a thunder
Then will my cry be heard in the East
How am I backslidden? And how am I fallen?
How am I drawn back and plunged into such a depth?
A once mighty mountain was I
Now, here I lie, a threading of the oxen
A mire and pity of swine
Being driven away from the light
I stumble blindly in the dark
How could I have left royalty and bliss?
And now I live every moment from bleak to dismal
Being pulled down the slopes
I live without life in the valleys
There’s none to help and none to lift
I am sent into the fields where the abominable I do

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poem by Nicholas Boateng
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Feline in Winter

Some days you think the cat will stay till summer comes,
this Prodigal Son you've fed for years, this feral cat
who comes and goes and comes again when hunger strikes.
But he just eats and leaves your porch,
despite the pillows plumped for a Sultan's duff.

He disappears in falling snow
only to appear again outside your door at dawn,
his green eyes dancing when he sees you bring
his mound of kibble, topped with tuna,
and his bowl of milk. Some days he mounts

the pillows for a nap. At noon, however,
he begins to yowl. He wants out again
to parade triumphant down the walk,
his tail an exclamation point. He romps
across the snow and fits beneath the fence.

He's gone again. Out of sight.
He plans to spend another evening

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poem by Donal Mahoney
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Affinities

I.

I will take your thoughts to my heart;
I will keep and garner them there
Locked in a casket apart.
Far above rubies or rare
Pearls from the prodigal deep,
Which men stake their lives on to find,
And women their beauty to keep,
I will treasure the pearls of your mind.

How long has it taken the earth
To crystallize gems in a mine?
How long was the sea giving birth
To her pearls, washed in bitterest brine?
What sorrows, what struggles, what fierce
Endeavour of lives in the past,
Hearts tempered by fire and tears,
To fashion your manhood at last!

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poem by Mathilde Blind
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