To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.
quote by Karl Shapiro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The age of image.
The people who know you
Are the canvas on which
Your image, good or bad,
Is drawn rightly or not.
Mind! The image you built
Will die with the canvas
When it’s torn or worn out.
Yet, each one wants an image.
Don't we desire leaving
A child for our copy,
which will not last long though?
02.01.2009.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child's Expression
A look of awe
on a child's face,
Discover.
A look of surprise,
on a child's face
Delights her.
A look of fear,
on a child's face
Reassure her.
A look of pain
on a child's face
Soothe her.
A look of glee
on a child's face
Laugh with her.
Expressions of a child
Innocent and true,
Expressions of a child
Save the image in you.
Let a child smile
Let a child blissfully grow,
Don’t try and obstruct his natural flow.
Let a child sleep,
Don’t try and break his dreams.
Let a child run,
Don’t try and smack his ear-drum.
Let a child confidently walk,
Don’t try and lure him with your talk.
Let a child create,
Don’t try and teach him to hate.
Let a child be innocent,
Don’t try and show him the art of disguise.
Let a child be naughty,
Don’t try and instruct him to be haughty.
Let a child play,
Don’t try and intentionally spoil his day.
Let a child make mistakes,
Don’t try and show him the stick.
Let a child roam in Sunlight,
Don’t try and hide him from the bright.
Let a child express his thoughts,
Don’t try and be a mental block.
And let a child prosper and SMILE,
Don’t try and expose him to worldly guiles.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Why Hate Me I Am Just A Child
i born as a child
i grew as a boy
i need love as you have
i need peace as you have
i need respect as you have
i am a little boy sitting at my table
i cry because you hate me i don't know why
i am afraid to walk the streat because of enemies
i am a little child a little humble child
why you hate me please love me
please accept me i am a little child
i don't have no one it's me alone
i am a child just a little child a little lonely child
can you be my friend and i will stop cry
you is my greatest fear please love me hi
i am a little lonely child just sitting at my door
waiting for you to say hi i need love or i may die
i am a little child a little humble child
poem by Gamar robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lotus-flowers
Lotus-flowers
Naked I am before The Author of Life
-the child of nature’s birth and death
Imperfect I am before The Great Mind
-the child of passion’s limited to earth
Rebellious I am before The Truth
-the child of desire clothe with pride
Vicious I am before The Law
-the child of deceit and endless lies
Avaricious I am before The Master of All
-the child of corrupt and distorted image of life
Nauseous I am before The Ancient One
-the child of folly, ignorant antagonist
And I am the pilgrim before the God of the Universe
-the ‘you’ and the ‘I’ across time and space
Note:
Inspired by the teaching on “Nirvana”
poem by Jordan Legaspi
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The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember Me, The Child! Michael Jackson: In His Own Words!
Remember me, the child!
Look past the man, deep into the innocence of my eyes
A towering giant of a man before I was grown
Still, searching for the childhood I have never known
Have you seen my childhood, the innocence of my age?
Remember me, the child! A life devoid of its shade!
Remember me, the child!
The child, forced to grow up long before his time
The evil had landed; life, I was outdone
Haunted by the image of the man I have become
A life less wanted, with an ever mounting cost
Remember me, the child! I tried to beat it, but lost
Remember me, the child!
Follow on this journey into the mystery of my life
Dark shadows and buried secrets, controversies reigned
Unable to grow up, mines was more of torture, and pains
Enslaved by the demands of a vindictive ideal
Remember me, the child! The horrors of my ordeal!
Remember me, the child!
A thriller of epic melodies, I sang the songs of life
I danced my way into hearts with a musical rage
Transcended every border, the world was my stage
I bridged the racial, cultural divide, my talent defined me
Remember me, the child! The music, my legacy!
Remember me, the child!
Look past the image, into the innocence of my eyes
Walk with me in an adventure down memory lane
See what it costs to wear the honor of my name
I may be bad, with an attitude, still, I am who I am
Remember me, the child! The legacy, the man!
Remember me, the child!
Like a burnt of flame, there is no more light
The journey has ended, it took flight with wings
In the twinkling of an eye, gone with the wind
The blossom is no longer a flowering bloom
Remember me, the child! Sadly, gone too soon!
An Image Springs to Mind
An image springs to mind:
A child, with childish innocence
upon the shores of life, inclined
to play, without pretence
or mask. Or, if a mask there be,
it still retains a quality
allowing all with empathy to penetrate behind.
An image springs to mind:
So freely see the child dispense
the sifting sand, so unrefined,
with slight apparent sense.
It takes some perspicacity
to see each grain is memory -
dispersed or treasured as may be - quicksilverly defined.
An image springs to mind:
The shifting sands are implements
used differently by different blind
for good or ill intents immense.
Some knowledge is acquired for free,
transmitted some, instinctively,
the balance, finely tuned as we progress or slip behind.
An image springs to mind:
The grain in youth packed tight and dense
Age often loosens, cannot bind, -
how great the difference!
If we could meet mortality
with every thought recorded, we
could help those after us to see the answers we can’t find.
An image springs to mind:
These answers must, in self defence,
be hid from those who’d grind Mankind,
enslaving innocence.
Both Time and Knowledge thus should be
weaved secret in Life’s mystery
from here until eternity - or so it seems designed...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
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Man, Thou Shalt Not Kill!
Each human child by God is made
In His image own, with love, care;
To take a life is God-forbade,
No human being shall then dare!
Each human child is called by name,
While growing in the womb by God;
To murder is a sin and shame
Inviting Maker’s just rod!
The law of lands may change with time,
But lives God-made must stay untouched;
To kill is both a sin and crime,
And cannot be ignored or hushed!
The curse of God shall be upon
The man/ woman who kill the child;
The pleas of revenge of unborn
Will bring a punishment, not mild!
To urge someone to kill is just
The work of Satan with much plan;
Such human beings are accursed:
Let all know this – man or woman!
So, spare the life within the womb;
Let every life see world God-made;
The place of birth can’t turn a tomb;
Without blooming, no bud may fade!
‘Abortion is a mortal sin and heinous crime! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-16-2010
poem by John Celes
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Take Your Anger Towards Yourself Not Others
life is life
death is death
you better clean up your mess
love is love
hate is hate
where is all your faith?
you beat a child
you murder a child
you rape a child
and all i have to ask
is why?
you laugh like your free
you cry like your not worth a thing
but can't you see
you take your anger
out on innocents
when what you really need to do
is take your anger
towards yourself
not others
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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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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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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The Child Had No Trust
The child was given a fruit
But the child did not eat
The child was given a shelter
But the child did not sleep
The child was given love
But the child did not take
The child was shown a path
But the child did not go
The child was promised a future
But the child did not believe
The fruit could be poisoned
The shelter could be a tomb
The sleep could be a nightmare
The love could be abused
The path could be an abyss
And the future smelled of the past
The child had no trust
Can anyone make the child believe
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Your Image
In my madness
Transformed agonies
Existential leanings
Yourself because of me
I hold your image
In my eyes
Like after death
The snake is burnt
As he carries
The image of his slayer
In my own circles
Like a mirror in palm
While you do your eyes
A reflection always
As you shatter me
Into dust
But like the snake
Ye shall burn me
To escape thy image
And by then
Ye shall see thine image
In thy soul
27/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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As with sound, images are subjective. You and I may not see the same color red as red, but we will probably agree that the image on the screen is a digital image or film image, based on contrast, bit depth, and refresh rate.
quote by John Dykstra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images
I think images are worth repeating
Images repeated from a painting
Images taken from a painting
From a photo worth re-seeing
I love images worth repeating
Project them upon the ceiling
Multiply them with silk screening
See them with a different feeling
Images, oh, images
Images, oh, images
Some say images have no feeling
I think theres a deeper meaning
Mechanical precision or so its seeming
Instigates a cooler feeling
I love multiplicity of screenings
Things born anew display new meanings
I think images are worth repeating
And repeating and repeating
Images, oh, images
Images, images
Im no urban idiot savant
Spewing paint without any order
Im no sphinx, no mystery enigma
What I paint is very ordinary
I dont think Im old or modern
I dont think I think Im thinking
It doesnt matter what Im thinking
Its the images that are worth repeating
And repeating, oh, images
Images
If youre looking for a deeper meaning
Im as deep as this high ceiling
If you think technique is meaning
You might find me very simple
You might think that images boring
Cars and cans and chairs and flowers
You might find me personally boring
Hammer, sickle, mao tse tong
Mao tse tong
Ooohhh, images, images
Images
I think that it bears repeating
The images upon the ceiling
I love images worth repeating
And repeating and repeating
Images, images
Oh, images, oh, images
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken child
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has seen more than his young eyes should.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who would run away from it all if he could.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has been ravished by the likes of you and I.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child with to much pride to cry.
I see the face off a broken child.
a child who fights off anyone who cares.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wishes his mother was there.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wont let his hardships keep him down.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who refuses to give up and reveal a frown.
poem by Joshua Reid
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Monday's Child is Ill
Monday's child is ill, I'm told.
Tuesday's child has caught a cold.
Wednesday's child is down with the flu.
Thursday's child is feeling blue.
Friday's child can't eat any food.
Saturday's child is in a foul mood.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is the only child that feels okay.
poem by Bruce Larkin
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