Where I grew up in Dallas, things might be a little more traditional. People have the same things in mind. They're supposed to grow up, go to college, get a job, get married, and have children, grandchildren. That's the world I grew up in.
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)
i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,
it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people
inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses
she says
these are all for her children
and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren
what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due
to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible
but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see
perhaps
forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed
and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all
her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren
...and then justice shall reign
but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy
>>>ii
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Children are today.
Children are today, Too outspoken for their age,
Some of their attitude stinks, and they have too much rage;
When we as adults grew up years ago, learnt to behave,
We respected the older folk, and no drugs did we crave.
Some children today, through abuse, and neglect,
Are hurting inside them, what they need is hard to detect;
They need guidance, love, understanding and care,
They need to be shown that someone will be there.
Children today, are expected to grow up too quick,
Taught to much, far too early, so wrong things they'll pick;
And as they grow, let them grow slowly at their own pace,
Let them be children while they can, and give them space.
poem by Margaret Haig
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This War’s for you..
Microwave with packaging too
This War’s for you
No Secondhand – everything new
This War’s for you
A 4 by 4 won’t smaller do?
This War’s for you
Living in your plastic zoo
This War’s for you
The rubbish that just grew and grew
This War’s for you
The things you brought and threw
This War’s for you
Heating up to 32
This War’s for you
A Revolution perhaps a coup
This War’s for you
Children maimed by bombs that flew
This War’s for you
TV propaganda for you to View
This War’s for you
poem by Ray Harrington
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She Gave Birth in a Fox-Hole
Victoria Elizabeth Borg
Born June 22,1920 in Agana, Guam
Died Pearl Harbor Day 2009
Victoria sang many lullabies
to her
5 children
5 step-children
26 grandchildren
36 great grandchildren
2 great-great grandchildren
and a host of heavenly nieces and nephews.
She was married to Tomas T. Calvaron and his 5 children
on the island of Guam in 1943.
After giving birth to her daughter Rosalita
in a fox-hole during World War II
she made it through
to have 4 more children.
In 1950
she was widowed and remarried to her
brother-in-law.
She passed on to be with the Lord
surrounded by her children and granchildren.
We
her many friends and family members
will keep her memory in our minds
and her love in our hearts
until we meet again.
poem by Bob Genevro
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Gray
We lived well for a while, then didn't.
That's all. Our world grew shabby
And started to shrink. We moved back
To the city. We ate cheaper food,
And our bodies grew heavy, as if
We had weakened. Maybe we had.
Even now, having mostly grown used
To not having the things we once did,
We are quiet and slow, two old
People who wait for the bus you're
Awaiting. You hope its wheels turn
To take you ahead. That's not where
We want to go.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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You Weren't Supposed to Go
You weren't,
supposed to go...
You were supposed to stay,
and watch mom's new baby grow.
To watch,
your grandchildren graduate...
To counsel us,
when everything goes wrong on a date.
To cheer us on,
through school...
To talk to us,
when our tempers need cooled.
To watch us,
get married...
To see your first great grandchild,
and hold it lovingly.
To make sure we don't stray,
from the right path...
To help us keep,
up with our math.
It wasn't suppposed,
to be this way...
You were supposed to be here,
for all these events and God took you away.
We will still envision you,
sitting there watching...
tears of joy in your eyes, a smile on your face,
your memory forever remaining.
poem by Cally A. Nixon
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Hiroshima Child
I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead
I'm only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I'm seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow
My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind
I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead
All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Dallas
[ jimmie dale gilmore ]
Chorus:
Did you ever see dallas from a dc-9 at night?
Dallas is a jewel
Yeah, dallas is a beautiful sight
Dallas is a jungle
But dallas gives a beautiful light
Did you ever see dallas from a dc-9 at night?
Now dallas is a woman who will walk on you when youre down
But when you are up shes the kind you wanna take around
Now dallas aint a woman to help you get your feet on the ground
And dallas is a woman who will walk on you when youre down
Oh, I came into dallas with the bright lights on my mind
I came into dallas with a dollar and a dime
Dallas is a rich man with a death wish in his eyes
A steel concrete soul with a warm-hearted love in disguise
A rich man who tends to believe in his own lies
I say, dallas is a rich man with a death wish in his yes
Oh, I came into dallas with the brights lights on my mind
I came into dallas with a dollar and a dime
Chorus
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Access Denied
Ofttimes enwrapt in reverie
I have a distant memory
but I cannot be sure it’s true
Of my mother who I barely knew.
She died so very long ago.
There is so much I do not know
I only know what I’ve been told
and that recedes as I grow old.
Although I try I can’t recall
her face: bring it to mind at all.
I feel I should be able to
but there is nothing I can do.
Sometimes I wake to find I’ve wept.
But I can do nothing but accept.
That time’s erased the memory
of the face I long to see.
Some faded photographs remain
which I look at, try to regain.
The memories I have repressed
It may be that it’s for best.
I was so young when mother died.
My wants and needs were satisfied.
By father and the family
and I grew up quite happily.
Would mother have been proud of me?
I she’d lived long enough to see.
The man her little boy grew into.
My mother who I barely knew.
Then I remember guiltily
my mother lost much more than me.
The grandchildren she’d never know
the chance to see her children grow.
But I still pursue selfishly
that one elusive memory.
That’s buried somewhere deep inside
A need that can’t be satisfied.
Perhaps because I’m growing old
and only have what I was told
to remember mother by.
I know I’ll fail but I still try.
24/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Inner Angel
If I look at the mind of God I can see
A vast pure energy ball grow up a tree
He is the pure inner self of us all
Connected within us contained in the ball
The white is the inner the outer is red
Energy from the outside created the dead
Like he grew up the tree he can also grow you
With red interference it’s the best he can do
Past present and future contained in the ball
It was the white energy zone which started it all
Right at the centre of life itself
He grew out the past and future himself
Attached to his mind was the vast Mister Red
Who forced exactly wrong onto his poor head
His mind had to grow whatever he could
And that was to grow everything up to be good
The red weighs deep in parts of his mind
You can see it clearly as you look through time
World War One and World War Two
He was weighted down heavily as the energy grew
Did the red grow his dolphin into a shark
Did it grow through a black Labrador to create a rottweiler bark
Did the uncontrollable red energy ball
Grow a dinosaur up ever so tall
We have the bones to prove the dinosaur
And old people to prove there was a war
Did he shoot the red energy backwards to create the bones
To question our existence in the age of the Stones
Did Jesus grow from the future into the past
To block the red energy which was growing so fast
An intelligent white ball to shoot through time
To be placed into a virgin mother of thine
The Son of God he stood out to be
Past present and future he’s contained in all three
He wanted to help dominant in all
To destroy the red contained in the ball
As the future looms I pray for the white
To force through the red ready to fight
To grow us higher to destroy the sinner
Whether dead or alive we remain inner
poem by Donna Caldwell
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Grew Up Fast
We grew up fast
And no one seemed to notice
We grew up fast
And we grew up alone
Mom and dad
Were never what we wanted
We grew up fast
And we grew up alone
We grew up along
Well you know who I am
So dont treat me like Im someone else
Well you know what I am
So dont treat me like Im someone else
You never act like that with no one else
We grew up fast
When lies were just a fact of life
We grew up mad
Cause we never had a home
We faced the past
And forgave the revolution
We grew up smashed
And we grew up alone
We grew up alone
Hey my brother
I got no fight with you
I just cant lie down
Hey my brother
I got no fight with you
I just cant lie down
No, I just cant ride down
I just cant ride down
Well you know who I am
So dont treat me like Im someone else
Well you know what I am
So dont act like Im something else
Well you know who I am
So dont treat me like Im someone else
You know where I am
So dont act like Im somwhere else
You never talk like that to no one else
You never scream like that for no one else
You never suck like that for no one else
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rebellious Vine
One day, the vine
That clomb on god’s own house
Cried, “I will not
grow
And, ‘I will
not
grow,’
And, I
will
not grow,’
And,
‘I
will not grow,’
So God leaned out his head,
And said:
‘You need
not
Then the vine
fluttered its leaves, and cried to all the winds:
‘Oh have I not permission from the Lord?
And may I not begin to cease to grow?’
But that wise God had pondered on the vine
Before he made it.
And all the while it laboured not to grow,
It grew; it grew;
And all the time God knew.
poem by Harold Monro
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Mr. Finney's Turnip
Mr. Finney had a turnip,
And it grew, and it grew,
And it grew behind the barn,
And the turnip did no harm.
And it grew, and it grew,
Till it could grow no taller;
Then Mr. Finney took it up
And put it in the cellar.
There it lay, there it lay,
Till it began to rot ;
When his daughter Susie washed it
And put it in the pot.
Then she boiled it and boiled it,
As long as she was able;
Then his daughter Susie took it
And put it on the table.
Mr. Finney and his wife
Both sat down to sup;
And they ate, and they ate,
Until they ate the turnip up.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Without Regret
Saddened memories,
I once held as property.
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
I now reflect,
Without regret.
I know now
Defeats I've met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Those times
Stayed on my mind
For days at a time.
I used that to feed,
My own desperate needing.
I lived with anger and deceit!
I felt those feelings deep,
Within me!
Defeats I have met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
But...
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Who knew,
Like I do now...
When they grew,
Somehow
They would go...
From inside of me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Circumspection
Many things i see concern me about people
I see people do stupid things
I see people do things to help the world
I see people do many things that someday they will not be proud of
Concerns come from the stupid things i see people do
If there a thousands of people doing things that i see
The world is a lot worse than what i thought
But other things i see cause me to see the good side of things
People that i see do acts of kindness make me see the world in other ways
But from what i see some people do i am filled with concern.
poem by Jacob Wortman
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Between The Two Of Them
They married back in '32
They were young and love was new
And every day the feeling grew
Between the two of them
When work grew scarce and times got bad
The hope would chase away the sad
And hope was sometimes all they had
Between the two of them
The 40's came and the 50's went
And the mortgage replaced the rent
They made the most of each day spent
Between the two of them
Their children all turned out just fine
So he retired in '69
And left with oh so, little time
Between the two of them
Today I brave the graveyard rain
And placed a rose between their names
Now that's the most that ever came
Between the two of them
And though I miss them oh so much
His crooked smile her gentle touch
And the pleasure of just growing up
Between the two of them...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rose
There was a Rose so warm and bright.
And from it smiles would grow.
It stood out from the other Plants.
It; s beauty was on show.
A Flower with such presence,
That all that came to see.
A Rose within a garden
Blooming happily.
Then one day it's leavs grew weak.
And the brightness seemed to fade.
How could a bud of beuaty,
Grow dull from day to day?
And suddenly the smiles grew weak.
No more stunning petals
No more standing tall.
Then one day the rose grew weak.
And to the ground it fell.
Such a loss to all around
Enchanted by it's spell.
And so a space in the garden
Where once beaty grew.
A space that could never be filled.
By a presence so strong and true
( not written by me but i liked the poem so much it makes me think of my dad)
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Our Grandchildren
my grandchildren are children of my children,
sounds quite Biblical,
grandchildren are my children once emoved,
neither born nor reared under our roof
the status clear but the state of mind,
unwilling to grow apart is painful and smarting,
each time we see them, a growing warmth,
shining reflections, thrills of yesteryear
crowding the senses, choked with emotion,
we are drowned with sympathies of surrender
symphonies of hugs and embracing,
to kiss and to hold these children of our children
this affinity is like no other, special and particular
reserved only for them, a set, set aside, as we
incessantly seek to find resemblances and like,
about these children of our loins and womb,
remind us of when you were growing up,
their laughter and cheer fills our universe
their pain and fear clouds our horizons,
juat ask and we would give them the skies and galaxies
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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Life-Ending
Who of us can escape death's scene
and if we could what would it mean?
Having to face a world gone mad
that can't seem to understand good from bad.
All of the ones that you held dear
gone beyond to a place you fear?
And if we do, who shall we blame?
Those that have taught us as we grew
all the things that we should do.
Things like hate and things to fear,
things like ageing with each new year,
things that tear into the soul,
things that surface and take their toll.
No, we can't escape death's scene
and if we could it would only demean
the importance of how our lives end
and the knowledge that death
is not a dead-end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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How Mary Grew
With wisdom far beyond her years,
And graver than her wondering peers,
So strong, so mild, combining still
The tender heart and queenly will,
To conscience and to duty true,
So, up from childhood, Mary Grew!
Then in her gracious womanhood
She gave her days to doing good.
She dared the scornful laugh of men,
The hounding mob, the slanderer's pen.
She did the work she found to do,--
A Christian heroine, Mary Grew!
The freed slave thanks her; blessing comes
To her from women's weary homes;
The wronged and erring find in her
Their censor mild and comforter.
The world were safe if but a few
Could grow in grace as Mary Grew!
So, New Year's Eve, I sit and say,
By this low wood-fire, ashen gray;
Just wishing, as the night shuts down,
That I could hear in Boston town,
In pleasant Chestnut Avenue,
From her own lips, how Mary Grew!
And hear her graceful hostess tell
The silver-voiced oracle
Who lately through her parlors spoke
As through Dodona's sacred oak,
A wiser truth than any told
By Sappho's lips of ruddy gold,--
The way to make the world anew,
Is just to grow--as Mary Grew
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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