Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.
quote by James Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be what you are
Cats don’t imitate tigers;
Ducks don’t imitate swans;
Cocks don’t imitate peacocks.
Must you imitate to live up?
28.08.2000, Madras
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It is the duty of children to wait on elders, and not the elders on children.
My Fore-Elders
When from the child, that still is led
By hand, a father's hand is gone, ---
Or when a few-year'd mother dead
Has left her children growing on, ---
When men have left their children staid,
And they again have boy and maid, ---
O, can they know, as years may roll,
Their children's children, soul by soul?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
My elders' elders, man and wife,
Were borne full early to the tomb,
With children still in childhood life
To play with butterfly or bloom.
And did they see the seasons mould
Their faces on, from young to old,
As years might bring them, turn by turn,
A time to laugh or time to mourn?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
How fain I now would walk the floor
Within their mossy porch's bow,
Or linger by their church's door,
Or road that bore them to and fro,
Or nook where once they build their mow,
Or gateway open to their plough
(Though now indeed no gate is swung
That their live hands had ever hung ), ---
If I could know that they would see
Their child's late child, and know of me.
poem by William Barnes
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Jeane
Jeane
The low-life has lost its appeal
And i'm tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare
Jeane
I'm not sure what happiness means
But i look in your eyes
And i know
Oh ...
That it isn't there
Oh, we tried, and we failed
Oh, we tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
Oh, jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
So how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave ?
Yet you still have that greedy grace
As you tidy the place
But it will never be clean
Jeane
We tried and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
And we tried
Oh ...
Cash on the nail
It's just a fairytale
Oh ...
And i don't believe in magic anymore
Jeane
But i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
Oh yes, i think you know the truth
Jeane
Oh ...
No heavenly choirs
Not for me and not for you
Because i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
I think you know the truth
Oh, jeane
We tried, and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Midst Of War
in the midst of war with bodies lying on the ground
walks a band of children-their families can't be found
searching through the rubble of homes that used to be
looking for food and clothes just to survive
because of their elders who choose to live a lie.
as i look through their eyes-all i can see
is death and destruction staring at me.
these children are not to blame for what is all around
but! if its not stopped they'll be laying on the ground.
they search thru this destruction in hopes that
they'll find-others to join them.
as they walk down the streets-the elders stop their fighting
to let them pass.
but this is just temporary- they know it will not last.
other children see them marching down the streets
they dropp what they are doing to join this band
knowing in their hearts it's time to take a stand.
this band is getting larger and the children start to shout..
what is this war? whats it all about?
can't you see the lives that have been taken?
because of this war the ground is still shaking.
the elders stop their fighting as the children all sit down.
they scream'we are not moving until this fight is through.
if this is what you want we will die with you.
you think only of yourselves and not what we're going through.
and when we die-what are you going to do.
there will be no one to carry on your name
there will be no heritage to be found
it will be burned to the ground.
look at our faces and you know what you will see
death and destruction surrounding me.
so we ask you from our hearts-it's time to change.
it is not something which is hard to do
it's all up to every one of you.
poem by Louis Rams
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Tessa's Song
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I fell
Straight from grace
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I lied
Straight to your face
The world you know
Keeps getting bigger
And badder
And all that's true
And all that's good
Doesn't seem to matter
What's good and what's bad
What's right and what's wrong
Is getting harder to comprehend
And just when you think
You've figured it out
The rules are changed again
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry you see
All that I lack
I'm sorry I failed
And if I could
I would take it all back
It's hard to believe
This war has gone on
Since before you were born
And I worry
That it will still be raging
When you are grown
The things you see
The drugs and the sex
And you're still so young
I lie awake at night
Hoping I've shown you
Which road is the right one
I'm sorry I failed
I pray that you know
I'm doing the best I can
I'm sorry I failed
I know you will become
So much more than I am
So much time that I've wasted
So many tears that I've tasted
Knowing I'm not the best
But my love for you remains
Untouched by anything
Wondering why I've been so blessed
poem by Sarah Deen
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We Arrive At Where We Are
WE ARRIVE AT WHERE WE ARE/ WITH REGRET FOR WHERE WE FAILED
We arrive at where we are
With regret for where we failed-
We try to sing
But who can sing
When there is no joy in our mind?
The years have gone by
What we have come to
We have come to
It has not been good enough-
Has it been good enough?
I write these lines falteringly
In the week of Rosh Hoshanah
Shouldn’t my mind be
On a different kind of Judgment?
God who Rules everything
Help my children please.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Black Bruises II
I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?
poem by Norman Santos
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There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
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T'was the Night Prior to the Real Nightmare
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare.
People were sunbathing without a thought or care!
Mockings of inner city people were good and well done!
And out of the blue,
Bird doo hit the head of someone,
And he became startled, baffled and stunned!
Was that the bird of truth?
His nervousness begun!
People stopped listening to him like they should.
He sent in fresh missionaries to keep the 'hood' good!
He took away the alcohol from his kids...
Took away their weapons,
Although they had some hid from him they did!
He spoke to his pastor...
Who was also his lawyer,
Banker and baker of his bread!
He didn't know what to say,
About his dread.
And it was dreadful!
He tried his best,
To provide for everyone.
By selling the land,
Running it!
And racking up bills as he ran,
As far as he could from reality!
And now he wants to be perceived,
As the one most willing...
To piece together a portrait of universal love!
And this...
Will be yet another,
Failed concept!
Laid out on the table....
From a chair he sits that is much too big!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it...
Are no closer to an exit,
Than the first exit plan they claim...
Would win the game!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it
Must do something quick,
Or sit and be finished off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare...
People were sunbathing without a thought,
And none dared to care.
Until out of no where...
Strange Beings appeared.
With pierced skin and tattoos from toe to ear.
They were quite drugged,
And their focus wasn't clear.
But they began to stalk...
In growing numbers.
Surrounding those...
In numbing fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Welsh Dragon
Beware the Welsh dragon,
He huffs and he puffs,
And he scares all the children at night.
For the tales of his antics
They trip off the tongue,
Of the elders who have to be right.
He rattles and roars, and wants to come in,
And sit by the fire with your Ma.
He shrieks and he squeals, makes a terrible din,
‘Til you shake in your slippers with fright.
But then comes the morning so sunny and gay,
And the terrors have passed with the light.
And whatever will happen today or the next,
The elders have always it right.
They say come on Joey, or Megan or Ruth,
He only comes out when it's dark.
So as long as you're snug
In your beds fast asleep,
The dragon can't hurt you- that's truth.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Destroyed
Destroyed
I did my best to please you
But my best was never good enough
Somehow you're only able to see
All I am not
Did you ever look behind
Aren't you afraid of the pieces you'll find
I have failed you
but you have failed me too
[Chorus]
It's so easy to destroy
and condemn
The ones you do not understand
do you ever wonder if it's justified
It's so easy to destroy
and condemn
The ones you do not understand
in your life why didn't you ever try
I close my eyes as I walk the thin line
between love and hate
For the person with the same blood in his vains
You show no regrets
about all the things you did or said
I have failed you
but believe me
you failed me too
[Chorus 2x]
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Younger Ones
The younger ones,
Do not wish any part of it.
The fragmentation solicited...
Or the family divisiveness.
They have witnessed what the elders have done.
And this has made many of them turn away quick.
Because the younger ones wish,
Not to have any of the negative rifts!
They have witnessed what the elders have done.
And the elders are the ones that do not get it!
The younger ones,
Do not wish any part of this.
In their hearts and in their minds,
The youngers ones may not express it.
But their actions are quite dramatic.
And observing that is obvious and emphatic.
The younger ones have had it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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unicef**united Nations Interest For Children Of Every Faith
look around, and what do you see
children of all races and creeds
white, yellow, black, olive complexioned too.
don't you realize that they all need you?
look at pictures and read the news
children all over the world
starving and without parents and love.
must they pay for the elders mistakes
must they be the victims of our ignorance.
let us give them what we had as kids.
love, food, affection is all they ask.
look at their faces and think
of your own children and if they would
survive, if they were in their places.
no matter what our beliefs.
we are children of GOD
so let us all do our part.
let us help and love one another
let us all become sister and brother.
don't let our little sisters and brothers starve
open up your minds and your hearts.
give a part of yourself that you
have yet to give
and let these poor children live.
poem by Louis Rams
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Playing Act
Put your polished smile
Give your irresponsible reason
I'm good at being a fool
But inside you don't know
How wicked I could be
Make everyone believes your plan
Blame to another people if failed
I'm good at being oblivious
But inside you don't know
How observant I could be
Tell a great tales
Sprinkle it with lies
I'm good at listening
But inside you don't know
How murderous I could be
Spill out your secret
Lower your guard in front of me
I'm good at being a loyal follower
But inside you don't know
How traitorous I could be
Reach victory no matter what the way
Get the finest jewelry for anyone stare
I'm good at flattering
But inside you don't know
How defiant I could be
Order me like someone important
Be the main actor in your story
I'm good at being obedient
But inside you don't know
How loathing I could be
Show your fake kindness
Wear your sympathy mask
I'm good at being the weak
But inside you don't know
How unbreakable I could be
Steal every attention
Dominate all the spotlight
I'm good at being the shadow
But inside you don't know
How dark I could be
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Introduction: The Bad Child's Book of Beasts
I call you bad, my little child,
Upon the title page,
Because a manner rude and wild
Is common at your age.
The Moral of this priceless work
(If rightly understood)
Will make you - from a little Turk -
Unnaturally good.
Do not as evil children do,
Who on the slightest grounds
Will imitate the Kangaroo,
With wild unmeaning bounds:
Do not as children badly bred,
Who eat like little Hogs,
And when they have to go to bed
Will whine like Puppy Dogs:
Who take their manners from the Ape,
Their habits from the Bear,
Indulge the loud unseemly jape,
And never brush their hair.
But so control your actions that
Your friends may all repeat.
'This child is dainty as the Cat,
And as the Owl discreet.'
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Refrain from doing ill; for one all powerful reason, lest our children should copy our misdeeds; we are all too prone to imitate whatever is base and depraved.
Need Proper Care
I was pulled from shirt and pushed aside
As house was clearly disturbed and divided
I was preferred more by mother and appreciated
This had lead to heated discussion and atmosphere was vitiated
As the children are normally naughty
Elders shower love and feel pity
They will offer everything to keep them happy
Children too will remain eager to receive and get ready
I was questioned over the scuffle
In the neighborhood there was brewing trouble
I often used to enter into altercation
And this was the cause for bad relation
People may come at home and complain
This will upset me always and puzzle the brain
What was I actually doing wrong?
And why I was now not favored among
I was good at studies also
But hade different style to adopt and go
As it had remained matter for concern
I decided to change drastically and made 'U' turn
It is difficult to go for a change
At a time when you are in delicate stage
You want unrestricted movement
With kind love and preferably no one to resent
I was thrashed and warned of home confinement
If went ahead with naughtiness
I sensed problem with displeasure
But was helpless to think about it for sure
I think back of all those things happened with me
Though I was not completely restricted from going free
Yet it carried a long impression in my mind about behavior
Elders should have thought of my age which was definitely a minor
Children need proper understanding with care
If they are forbidden to go near by or anywhere
It may have adverse effect on their natural growth
The attention has to be paid at home and out side or both
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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We really need to get over this love affair with the fetus and start worrying about children.
quote by Joycelyn Elders
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Listening Week
This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.
On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.
In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.
To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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