The child who grows up with you is your fellow.
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Way Of Life
Birth is to Death
Like East is to West
Pain is to Love
Like Greed is to Wealth
A family mourn
A child is born
The child is taught
This child cannot be Bought
The child grows
His words flow
His eyes wander
As his mind ponders
The teen grows
His legacy grows
His career escalates
His family evacuates
The Man grows
The family, frighten
The noose tightens
A family mourn
poem by Corey Fauchon
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I'm Immortal
I am immortal
A demented
Guilt-free child
Voiced
I am immortal
And incompatible
So far
While turned
From a hand to another
Topsy-turvy
She fell in
A conversation
With a fellow
And spoke fondly
Of Einstein
Shakespeare
And other immortals
Liar
Demented child
Cursed to utter
Incompatibility
Voiced
The fellow
Hurt
She took
The way towards
The immortals
I am going
To the library
Voiced
A demented
Guilt-free child
There is a show
At the cinema
Laughing is good
For your health
Voiced
The fellow
Ah, you can
Go back to
Kindergarten
There is a lot of
Laughing
There too
Voiced
A demented
Guilt-free child
poem by Benjamin Paa Willie
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Todays Child
A child grows with time, and time changes,
But does the child change?
Yes, he changes
But how does he change?
A child’s future depends on his people, his elders, his friends
The world today decides the future of the child
Look upon the child, see him, hear him, and understand him
Do not ignore the child and destroy him.
poem by Joy Lovelet Crawford
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The child to be a child
When a child is not a child
When he is a child
He will not be young
When he is young.
He will not be old
When he is old either.
Let the child grows as child
Without pressure to outgrow.
01.04.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Look To The Rainbow (feat. Barbara Cook)
On the day I was born
Set me father said he
I've got an elegent legacy waiting for me
It's a rhyme for your lips
It's a song for your heart
To sing it whenever the world falls apart
Look, look , look to the rainbow
Follow it over the hills and stream
Look, look, look to the rainbow
Follow the fellow who follows our dream
It was a sumtuous gift
To beguife to a child
Or the lore of that song kept her feet running wild
For you never grow old
And you never stand still
With whipper will singing beyond the next hill
Look, look , look to the rainbow
Follow it over the hills and stream
Look, look, look to the rainbow
Follow the fellow who follows a dream
Strike one me heart and I roam the world free
To the east with a lark
To the west with the sea
And I searched all the Earth
And I scanned all the sky
But I found it at last
In my own true love's eyes
Look, look , look to the rainbow
Follow it over the hills and stream
Look, look, look to the rainbow
Follow the fellow who follows the dream
Follow the fellow
Follow the fellow
Follow the fellow
Who follows the dream
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man and Child
Inside every man.
There lives two people.
Man and child.
It is the child inside of the man.
That grows his compassion and love.
It is the child inside of the man.
That let him lead with his heart
It is the man inside of the child.
That gives him the strenght to care on.
When all is seem to be lost.
It is the man inside of the child that understands.
One man right to stand alone is just as great.
As one man right to stand with many.
Inside every man.
There lives two people.
Man and child.
poem by Jackie Compton
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War grows out of the desire of the individual to gain advantage at the expense of his fellow man.
quote by Napoleon Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Reflect Those Ideals Projected
Children,
Reflect those ideals projected.
With a caring less,
Of how their wants and needs are met.
And a child caring less,
Of how their innocent desires are met...
Will do his or her best,
To express no regret...
In the showing just how much they are upset.
With a display of embarrassing tantrums,
A parent tries hard to minimize and suppress.
A 'child' grows up to expect,
That a loud voice heard in protest...
Will get as demanded,
What is wished with no exception.
A child never forgets,
Who promised what and when...
The day and hour,
That promise was mentioned.
Regardless of the dust that may collect in pockets.
Or the emptiness in each corner of a treasure chest.
A child,
Raised to be a 'child' teased by success...
Will never be satisfied by just a taste of it.
Since to sacrifice is not,
A conditional part of a child's mindset.
A CHILD,
No matter how old that child gets...
Will demand what is wanted,
Caring less who pays for it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Young Fellow My Lad
"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad,
On this glittering morn of May?"
"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad;
They're looking for men, they say."
"But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad;
You aren't obliged to go."
"I'm seventeen and a quarter, Dad,
And ever so strong, you know."
* * * *
"So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you're looking so fit and bright."
"I'm terribly sorry to leave you, Dad,
But I feel that I'm doing right."
"God bless you and keep you, Young Fellow My Lad,
You're all of my life, you know."
"Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad,
And I'm awfully proud to go."
* * * *
"Why don't you write, Young Fellow My Lad?
I watch for the post each day;
And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad,
And it's months since you went away.
And I've had the fire in the parlour lit,
And I'm keeping it burning bright
Till my boy comes home; and here I sit
Into the quiet night.
* * * *
"What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad?
No letter again to-day.
Why did the postman look so sad,
And sigh as he turned away?
I hear them tell that we've gained new ground,
But a terrible price we've paid:
God grant, my boy, that you're safe and sound;
But oh I'm afraid, afraid."
* * * *
"They've told me the truth, Young Fellow My Lad:
You'll never come back again:
(Oh God! the dreams and the dreams I've had,
and the hopes I've nursed in vain!)
For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you proved in the cruel test
Of the screaming shell and the battle hell
That my boy was one of the best.
"So you'll live, you'll live, Young Fellow My Lad,
In the gleam of the evening star,
In the wood-note wild and the laugh of the child,
In all sweet things that are.
And you'll never die, my wonderful boy,
While life is noble and true;
For all our beauty and hope and joy
We will owe to our lads like you."
poem by Robert William Service
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Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
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Deserter
Soldier 1: Do as they bid with interest,
To school the child and mother with it,
As a man will kick his attacker in war.
I think on deserting a cursed fellow,
One that is regarded by some as nothing.
Am I nothing?
Soldier 2: Yes, (says the forceful fellow with fellowship)
Yes I have to be it, and I have to kick the foe with might.
You are other than the foe, and you are nevertheless a let down,
You have expected me to face the unquestionable.
Soldier 1: Your reason for living is unique,
Yet my reason for existing is the same.
I am in dire need of war,
So much is the foe in front of me.
Am I nothing?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Who Is This God Fellow And What's The Reason Why
Who is this God Fellow
And what’s the reason why
Did he murder the last poet
When he thought to cry
Who is this God Fellow
And what’s the reason why
Dose he never leave the gated community
Of his heaven in the sky.
Who is this God fellow
And what is his gig
It seems to me that he and his priest
Got the whole damn thing rigged
Is he a prince or a pauper a pusher or a pimp
That dose his jealous thing reveal
To me while I smoke a bit of hemp.
Who is this God fellow
Is he married to human by the power of a prayer
And why is it that he should even care
Who is this God fellow and what’s the reason why
Did he murder the last poet when he thought to cry
Who is this God fellow and why are his blessings to live
Only by the hands of priest that are stingy to give
Who the reason and what’s the reason why
That a small rain should collect in his eyes.
poem by David E. Patton
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Declaration Of Life
Declaration of life
Is a written paper
That I keep in the drawers of my desk
It is a declaration of life that is truly an amazing gift
Sign, sealed, and delivered by God
At the time I was born
And at the time I had entered his world
I had grown and seen all his world
Today I am a believer
I am the one who is falling into God's footsteps
And God is life
This day was made for me
Bring it on I will
I will look on your side of the world
Because there are places
Which are brighter
Filled with thy love and peace
God tells me I will take care of you
Many years to come
Declaration of life
Live my child
Live well my child
Enjoy it my child
Drink my child
Eat my child
Sleep well at night my child
And don't forget about me my child
Child I am the one who signed the declaration of life
In your heart, mind, and soul I live
Child take time to consider grace
God the landscape grows green with your love
Eternity isn't something we wait for-it's what we breathe
God
poem by Aldo Kraas
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An Advice To A Father
You may try to be the friend of your daughter
You may treat her as a friend with peaceful laughter
Give her the freedom to get wings and fly higher
Don't become her abject prisoner
My advice to you my fellow man father
Your daughter needs your tender care your advises with hands of care and laughter
Don't forget that her future depends on your actions the most
It's your choice to harvest good seeds
Or to weed the bad seeds
Teach her the value of the love
The necessity to love and to beloved in return
Kids grow young so soon
But with them grows the seeds of love and fear
What you plant you'll harvest
Whice decides their future plans
What they earn from life grows up with them.
May they become successful heroes
Or harmful sick people for community at the first hand
Unsuccessful sad people for their own sakes
And it'll hurt and will afflict your heart the most
Their successes or their failures
So my fellow man you can build your daughter life or destroy its your choice.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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I was not a child prodigy, because a child prodigy is a child who knows as much when it is a child as it does when it grows up.
quote by Will Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Back From A Two-years' Sentence
Back from a two-years' sentence!
And though it had been ten,
You think, I were scarred no deeper
In the eyes of my fellow-men.
'My fellow-men--?' Sounds like a satire,
You think-- and I so allow,
Here in my home since childhood,
Yet more than a stranger now!
Pardon--! Not wholly a stranger--,
For I have a wife and child:
That woman has wept for two long years,
And yet last night she smiled--!
Smiled, as I leapt from the platform
Of the midnight train, and then--
All that I knew was that smile of hers,
And our babe in my arms again!
Back from a two-years' sentence--
But I've thought the whole thing through--,
A hint of it came when the bars swung back
And I looked straight up in the blue
Of the blessed skies with my hat off!
O-ho! I've a wife and child:
That woman has wept for two long years,
And yet last night she smiled!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A narrow fellow in the grass
A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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