My childhood should have taught me lessons for my own fatherhood, but it didn't because parenting can only be learned by people who have no children.
quote by Bill Cosby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My childhood should have taught me lessons for my own parenthood, but it didn't because parenting can be learned only by people who have no children.
quote by Bill Cosby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About Survival And Life
There are so many things I have learned,
About survival and life and healing from pain.
I've learned that those who ignore,
Others doing their best to painfully survive...
Will eventually learn a few lessons themselves.
And for some who shun others as an expectation,
Especially those...
Unaccustomed to being shunned themselves,
The pain to them that comes will be incredible.
Although...
An adjustment aided by one's hindsight often helps.
Allowing lessons as lessons are to be taught and learned,
No matter how difficult the acceptance is....
To provide just the right amount of significant influence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through Hands Of Time
‘Early in the morning, just around supper time.’
Contrasts are good, to make children laugh.
There is something in an opposing rhyme.
Which appeals to a gleeful childhood mind.
There are wise lessons learned in nursery rhymes.
Morals taught best with humour as they ought.
Powerful wonderful images, a child’s mind binds.
Ancient teaching passed down, through hands of time.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Their Knees
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
An escape hatch is sought,
As the plunge from their throne is felt!
The misuse of their own citizens,
Inflames them from within.
They can not blame anyone else!
Their struggle to maintain integrity has gone!
Not one of them fed on greed,
Has an identity that is strong.
Listening with patience and correcting their faults...
Had not been a priority.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How We Learned Our Lessons
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.
And we understood each one of them.
With our minds, eyes and ears opened.
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the acceptance and loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the giving of respect,
We ourselves sometimes did not get!
That's how we learned our lessons.
And even though our steps made forward...
Were made to believe by others as limited.
And sometimes we wept and knew this was negative.
It was through the acceptance of who we were,
And loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.
And the parents we loved and had,
Did not brag about their college degrees!
Or 'things' with them we could buy to achieve...
To succeed in the repossessing of our minds,
Some permit an entry for this to be done!
They were with us all the time,
Telling us we could accomplish anything!
And could prove that too to ourselves and anyone.
'Whatever' it was we chose in our lives to do.
And working hard we did...
To pursue.
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Dedicated to:
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
My sisters.
'Love you for your 'gifts' given...
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar
And Lawrence Pertillar, Sr.'
Our Parents.
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mama Didn't Raise No Punk
Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
Not when she would slam dunk me,
Away from public view.
Or dared me not to do those things,
She told me to.
Or take my time!
Mama came from the old school.
And she didn't hesitate,
To strike fire to my behind.
Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
She knew exactly what she was doing with me.
She raised me to become independent.
Not a chump.
I was raised to use my mind.
And defend my thoughts!
And any gift I got from mama,
Is was bought for me because it was earned!
Like those whippings for my backtalk.
My mama didn't have easy lessons taught.
None that I remember were for me quickly learned.
But over time I did.
Since I didn't like to sit...
On a burned butt after getting whipped!
Eventually they sunk in...
Those lessons.
Deep.
To stay.
If I was ever to become a punk...
It was going to be done mama's way.
With a tormenting whipping,
As she held me,
Screaming...
'I've got it, if you want it.
And you're going to get it good.
What's my name? '
Mama.
'What is it? '
Mama.
'And don't you forget it!
Who's your mama? '
You're my mama, mama!
'That's right!
And don't you forget it,
Not one bit.
Or I'll be back to give you more...
Of some of this.
Don't play with me, boy! '
Dedicated:
My Mother, Edna Pearl Roberts (Prudhomme) Pertillar
And my paternal Grandmother, Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
'Thank you! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dictation Done
If there is anything experience teaches,
To those who have gone through that process...
With a final acceptance of lessons taught,
Is this...
No matter where one goes with an experienced life,
Achieved through the benefit of failure...
Sometimes repeated.
And lessons learned that have been taught.
Those who seek comprehension,
Will never find time to be bored.
And will one day discover their observations,
Are the ones that are eagerly sought!
Since so many others seem to be awaiting...
A school bell to ring and an announcement made,
That a thought one initiates should soon begin!
With a dictation done that has nothing to do,
To provide one with the tools to use common sense!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dad's Lessons Passed On
He was not filthy rich
But had the depth of knowledge
That he had blessed me with
To face my trials with great courage.
Dad taught me the love for books
A quiet spirit in times of strife
All those years his lesson took
Me through the hardships of my life.
Teach a child the wealth of reading
To feed his mind, keep him from trouble
Values learned he will be using
To grow up wise and be responsible.
Dad's lessons I now try to teach
On the next in line there to impart
My children know their goals to reach
By keeping his lessons in their heart.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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WHO And WHAT Implemented This
How can anyone think or believe,
They could distance themselves...
From actions their own children take,
That provokes others with disrespect...
To then proclaim they are not responsible,
For those actions their children have learned...
From behind walls where they were first taught.
To then take those lessons beyond their own backyards?
With a doing done to create for others havoc!
Is the First Amendment that diverse?
WHO and WHAT,
Inspired with encouragement their transgressions?
With beliefs to violate others is okay?
And with rights that entitles them to do it their way.
From WHERE was this thoughtlessness generated?
WHO and WHAT implemented this in their minds,
To have those who should be accountable...
Find someone else to blame!
And with accusations that dismisses their teachings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have you learned the lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned great lessons from those who braced themselves against you, and disputed passage with you?
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weekend Fatherhood
Out of all of life's raw deals
Weekend fatherhood is the rawest
48 hours to undo 5 days of propaganda
'I do love you, no matter what your mother says'
Try to do the impossible, squeeze 7 days of love, caring and fatherhood into 2 measly days
Days that fly by faster than the speed of light
No sooner do you pick them up, it's time to take them home
Weekend fathers, you see them everywhere
They're easy to spot by the attention they pay to their children
Their smiles and laughter, tears they so bravely try to hide
After bringing their children back to their mothers
The malls are full of this special breed of man
Buying their children anything and everything
Especially if they say 'Mom won't let us have this' 'Keep it at my house, and don't tell your mom'
From Monday 9AM to Friday 5PM
You're just a man, one of millions, nothing special
But 6PM Friday you become a father again, picking up your children and taking them for the weekend
And if you're one of the lucky ones
Their Mother, your ex-wife
Won't take your children and move away
Halfway across the country
And your weekends along with them
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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To Like Your Talks
Lessons that interest the beginners
Will dull the learners and bore the learned.
Lessons for the learned will bore the layman.
Listeners less than you will like your talks.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I think he had a wake-up call. It's a different kind of race, and I think maybe he didn't take it quite as seriously as he might have, but you can bet he learned a lot of lessons.
quote by Frank Shorter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What My Mom Left Me (Novelinee)
Sometimes memories of my Mom and me
an aging daughter's stories of delight
my children often hear quite randomly,
her love for art that bless with hand and sight.
She taught me skills and crafts I now pass on
her lessons to the next generations,
wise use of time for things that can be done
with hobbies, joy is the compensation,
in times of need, the handy solution.
My Mom loved to sew and make home decors from scrap cloth and ribbons - a hobby we learned as children. I set up a home business with my daughters making these things and this wall decor is one of our products.
Novelinee - 9 lines in 10 syllables, with ab/ab/cd/cd/d rhyme scheme.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Simple Lessons
Simple, simple lessons, simple...
Sound to be where, make you want to scream.
Always left without, saying hello.
Ive seen chains the bear less, snap and fall long before you let go.
Times run over your sink onto my floor,
Its okay, weve cleaned them many times before.
Simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple...
Sounds might be where, yeah I want to cry
Always left before, I said hello.
Hes had days where shades of brilliance, never granted him space.
Green shades of painful rains, its okay, theyll wash away now
Simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple lessons are, simple...
Always taught you how, drain yourself empty.
Always taught you how, drain yourself empty.
Were all scarred up from ages of childish games.
Yet Ive never seen your head up higher.
It feels real this time, I see you happy again.
Reel it in for awhile, oh enough to take my
Aint enough to take my aint enough to take my, aint enough to take my, aint enough to take my place
Sounds might be where, you want to scream.
Always left without, saying hello.
Ive seen chains that bear less, snap and fall long before you,
Long before you let go
song performed by by Candlebox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
Mimicry Assignment
Many classrooms were my home
and dozens of teachers called my name
thousands of lessons taught and learned
after time its all the same
For I was an intelligent child
my knowledge knew no end
homework tests and lessons
it seemed book smarts were my best fried
Everyday I proved ready
to ace my work with ease
with hardly any effort or drive
my lessons were a breeze
For I was an intelligent child
my teachers and classmates knew it
the lessons were long and tedious
but i knew i had to do it
During all those monotonous years
I decided it wasnt for me
I hated math and things with rules
I desired creativity
Yes, many classrooms were my home
and dozens of teachers helped me see
while i excelled at math and science
creative writing was for me.
poem by Greta Streed
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With An Acceptance To Acknowledge
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
Mistakes I have made.
And not one did I excuse.
I admit I have a low tolerance for weepers.
Perhaps I understand them too much.
I have yet to witness the sharing of sorrows,
Mend anything to become productive.
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
But the loneliness of doing that alone,
I abandoned to socialize with others.
Needless to say...
Some lessons learned should never be abandoned.
Early in my life,
I learned to navigate.
And appreciate what I initiated.
With an acceptance to acknowledge,
Some lessons learned should never be abandoned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Once We Were Child
Once we were children
everything was supper
We could fly
if we hadn't trusted our mothers
Once there was no difference between boys and girls
Once it wasn't important, having wealth
How many times we fell on the ground?
We just wanted playing around
We always made a big noise
We didn't have to be poised
When we laughed in each case
But we didn't laugh in someone's face
Everything we had we did share
Which color? we didn't care
Once we were children
The sky was blue
The world wasn't so wild
That was the issue
When we loved it was real
Of dying, we didn't have any fear
Did we know what discrimination is?
Did we know how to tease?
Did we have lust? Could we tell a lie?
Now we have to tell to our childhood goodbye
Once we were children
The life was so funny
We were just called honey
And our world was summed up to our tiny
Homes.
Here is a feeling in my gut
That once we were child
How close we were to God
Spite of having no attention to God.
poem by Nader Baheri
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In School
When I was young and went to school
I learned my lessons well
But in school they never taught me
That love could be so swell
12-19-05/RJH
poem by Ray Hansell
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