I was an adopted child of my grandparents, and I don't know how I can ever express my gratitude for that, because my parents would have been a mess, you know.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Way They Express Their Gratitude
When one allows him or herself,
To follow the dictates of a child.
Perceived by others to be mature,
But isn't.
That very same child will grow,
To believe a controlling over others is easy.
And a disrespect shown for parents left,
In convalescent homes.
Is a way they express their gratitude.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Steve Jobs being adopted
Steve Jobs being adopted had a great affect on him. It is no accident that he made the computer and later the smart phone irresistible. As an infant he had to sell himself, make something that was potentially great yet rejected acceptable, similar to what he did with the computer. No matter how good of adopted parent you have or are, there is always Miss-attunement. Good adoptive parent’s face it, except it and deal with it thus allowing their child to except this reality so they could cope with it in their own way. Most parents from the sixties and prior were like mine, they told their child that they were lucky they did not end up in an orphanage; most adopted children do not have a chance to sublimate their miss-attunement the way Steve Jobs did. He used his skills to transform the inaccessible and incomprehensible computer of his time into an instrument of freedom, of happiness, of creativity. Something as a child he could not experience directly from his parents.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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What My Dreams in Life
When I was a child I'd a tough life.
I dreamed of becoming a doctor.
I dreamed of becoming a lawyer
But I ended up of being a nurse.
At an early age,
My parents were away from me
And only grandparents were there for me.
But then I understood it was for our future.
Though I'd encountered troubles with my playmates,
I was never a prodigal son to my parents.
I was just spoiled by my grandparents
And I don't blame them for loving me, of course.
When I was a high school student,
My parents trained me to be independent
That's why they sent me to the Seminary
To become a God-fearing person today.
When I went to college for study,
I took B.S in Nursing Degree
And all my teachers were proud of me
Especially on my personality.
Now that I'm a Registered Nurse in America,
Philippines, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia,
Part of me is still missing...
I dream of a peaceful place to live
where my wife can stay with me.
I dream of a better world
Where my children can grow old.
Until all these dreams never come true,
My life is still an empty bottle.
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
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Express Your Gratitude
Say it,
With a meaning done.
Express your gratitude,
To someone.
Do it,
Why delay in hesitation?
If someone is deserving,
Of your thankfulness...
Say it.
Do it.
Let them know...
They are separate from the rest.
Say it.
Do it.
Express your gratitude.
With a meaning done to 'someone'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
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The one that the child loves
The child loves most the one
Whom it defies, demands, dictates
And is at liberty to provoke
And not the one whom it obeys,
Concedes, and fear to provoke.
Grandparents score over parents.
09.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faith And Gratitude
In the midst of seeking joy,
Where is the search one makes...
To show and express faith and gratitude?
Many pleased with their lives,
Seem to be absent in the display of it.
Although complaining quite a bit is heard and done.
Everyone enjoys some attention when they get it.
Even if not admitted...
Statistics will prove that is why conflicts are commited.
In the midst of seeking joy,
Where is the search one makes...
To show and express faith and gratitude.
I am not too heavily traveled,
But there are days I wish I observed more people...
Determined with a purpose just to express this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I was a child in the 1940s and early 1950s, my parents and grandparents spoke of Britain as home, and New Zealand had this strong sense of identity and coherence as being part of the commonwealth and a the identity of its people as being British.
quote by Michael King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I moved up over Lower East Side and I was adopted by eight foster parents; I lived all over New York City with these parents, man, till I was about ten years old.
quote by Gregory Corso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?
Which child will care for parents when old-aged?
Which child will show compassion and respect?
Which child will find the time to talk kind words?
Which child reciprocates their affection?
Gone are the days of joint family system!
Gone is the sense of values in people!
Gone are the times when blood was quite thicker!
Gone with the wind is honouring parents!
Have parents not showered love on children?
Have they not slogged to give them life's comforts?
Have they not nursed them whenev'r they fell ill?
Have they not done their duties to their kids?
The world today is selfish to the core;
Children just want the wealth of parents old;
None volunteer to tend to old parents;
Children show scarce love to their parents dear!
What has then come upon children today?
Who should take care of parents, elderly?
Should not one's children take care of parents?
Much love seems lost in families these days!
poem by John Celes
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In the Raising of Their Own Children
Those that do not play an active role,
In the raising of their own children...
But appear from nowhere,
To claim bragging rights.
When discovered 'their' child...
Stands under a spotlight.
Should not be offended when sent,
A 'Thank You' card by a son or daughter.
Someone has shown them how to express,
An appreciation for being abandoned.
And given an opportunity to feel blessed.
Some children have a right to express that,
As an option.
Not an expectation.
And some parents should not be allowed,
To proclaim that at all.
Especially when the doing of it isn't done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Celebration Of A Holiday
Yes I am a veteran,
Of a life given that is well experienced.
And on Memorial Day,
I think of my parents, grandparents...
And lives of my ancestors also veterans,
Of living lives in the doing for others.
My mind on this day,
Is not only on those who sacrificed their lives...
Wearing a uniform to serve time in the military.
I think of those who have sacrificed their lives,
For beliefs kept many today take for granted...
Just to eat and drink in celebration of a holiday.
Only to be glad to spend time away,
From a regular routine.
Yes I am a veteran,
Of a life given that is well experienced.
And on Memorial Day,
I think of my parents, grandparents...
And lives of my ancestors also veterans,
Of living lives in the doing for others.
And the doing for others many who have passed on,
And done...
Should on this day be always remembered.
And as far as wars, destruction and the loss of life goes?
There is nothing about the act of it that is worthy of celebration.
However...
The showing of an appreciation is a more honorable expression,
Than the rushing to feed one's greed as a priority...
To prove a loyalty in the doing of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feeling Guilty
i am so guilty about it
i am sentimental only
over a few things
my parents, grandparents
and those few childhood dogs
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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That child
Eight years old and already hate life
Abused by her adopted mother
Raped by her adopted brother
She is just a child and she cant be more.
The bruises on her back keeps her silent
She cries at night till the pain is numb
And when he is on top of her she drifts away
Away from body away from spirit.
Nine years old and it continues
To protect her blood brother from the same
She pretends nothing is wrong
For him, trying so hard to be strong.
She cared so much for her blood brother
She took his bruises upon her self
And he was only a year younger
And they both were just kids.
Ten years old and he still knows nothing
She must be the best secret keeper
Or just a scarred girl who doesnt want her brother to know
Either way she is just a child.
Eleven years old nothing changes
Twelve years old she is getting fed up
The nights when he would come in and do what ever
Forced to mature before her time.
Fourteen she tells her adopted mother
And adopted mother beats her and the girl knows not why
Is it because the mother doesn't believe her
Or does not care enough for her feelings
Sixteen she tries to runaway
Her aunt talks to her so she goes back
Seventeen she moves out and graduate high school
What do you know she graduate with honors.
Eighteen she joins the military
Her blood brother still knows nothing
He see her for her success and not her struggle
That is how she want to keep it.
Her childhood was taking
She just met her birth father
Knows not her birth mother
Her biological brother is all she has
At Nineteen she wrote this poem.
And still remembers that child.
poem by Tressa Carliss
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Different From Others
Quickly! !
Emotions,
Missing,
Mixing,
Musing,
To pursuade them,
To pursuade you,
To pursuade me,
For the mind and body;
But, i am very different from others!
And like the eagle's wings to help me fly up high.
Living longer,
Changed,
Challenged,
Parents,
Grandparents,
Great grand parents!
With living habits to meet up to the right rules;
But, i am very different from others.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Rendezvous on Champs-Elysees
Leave Paris in the morning on T.E.E.
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
In Vienna we sit in a late-night cafe
Straight connection, T.E.E.
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
From station to station
back to Dusseldorf City
Meet Iggy Pop and David Bowie
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
Trans-Europe Express
song performed by by Kraftwerk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The people who have recently come to this country to work and better their lives should be given the same opportunities that our parents, grandparents, and ancestors were given.
quote by Jose Serrano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is Not An Act
Perhaps I should not be so quick,
To express my lack of disappointment.
But my take it or leave it attitude,
Developed from realizing...
To no one do I have to prove anything!
My experiences lived,
Has taught me that.
And to express my gratitude for my blessings,
Comes to me naturally.
It is not an act.
I am here to do one thing,
And one thing only!
To be the best that I can be.
That's it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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