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Because I practice often with my children at home.

quote by Andrea Bocelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice Every Step

Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

There's no sleeping for someone who has a place to go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

Focus on that goal,
And tighten on your hold,
And...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

Every journey taken,
Must be thought of as a race...
And,
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

There's no other way to straighten out a crooked road,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

No matter what you're told,
There will be some doubts and woes...
But you,
Practice every step.
Yes you,
Practice every step.

Woes you hold will eventually go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pornography is the instruction. Rape is the practice, battered women are the practice, and battered children are the practice.

quote by Gloria Steinem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Voice On The Wind

I

She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

II

Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

III

She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

IV

Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

V

'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Many Children? (Holiness)

how many children
are hungry this morning?
how many children
without a home?

how many children
with only one parent?
how many children
.....with none?

how many children
faced with no future?
how many children
thrown to the side?

how many children....
and how many know?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You've got to learn your instrument. Then, you practice, practice, practice. And then, when you finally get up there on the bandstand, forget all that and just wail.

quote by Charlie Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I know you've heard it a thousand times before. But it's true - hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don't love something, then don't do it.

quote by Ray Bradbury
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ibrahim's tale

Ibrahim

Ibrahim was a shoemaker
in that Persian land afar
where wisest men practice crafts
in side-alleys without name
and teach with stories

One day, Ibrahim was overcome
by happiness beyond all belief
while the sun moved from there to here

He told his friend, who said
you look the same to me

He went to the doctor who said
we’d better keep an eye on that,
it might need an X-ray

He went to the priest who said
the Devil has cunning ways
to tempt with gifts

He went to the politician who said
it’s just a way to avoid
your social responsibility

He went to the psychiatrist who said
such delusions are uncommon but
not unknown come back next week

Ibrahim walked home
through the market and stallholders smiled
even though he bought nothing

a stray dog followed him home
his wife said you’re late for dinner
how lucky you are to have me for a wife

his children said
didn’t you bring anything home for us?

But here the story of Ibrahim
splits into many versions;

so you who know that bliss
which overcame our Ibrahim
must complete it for yourselves
to tell to your chlldren and
your children’s children

so that wise men smile, and angels laugh,
and poets pause, and storytellers
nod to themselves, while
they shape and tack their shoes, that
a storyteller carries on wise shoulders
a responsibility to human beings
greater than any king..

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lonely Children

You go where the wind blows, leading the life you chose
Your destination remains unknown
No one to help you, nobody cares about you
Youre looking for someplace you can call home
Lonely children on the run
Lonely children need someone
Too many questions, you need to answer to them
Your information is so incomplete
You seek directions, you would be lost without them
Dont let them find you lying in the street
Lonely children on the run
Lonely children, lonely, need someone
Someone to talk to
Someone who cares
Someone who listens
Is anyone there?
They may detest you, someday they may arrest you
They stop at nothing to hold you down
You need to be free, but will they ever let you?
They wont be happy till you leave town
Lonely children on the run, run on the run
Lonely children need someone, need someone
Lonely children in the night, cant see the light
Lonely children need a guiding light, dont forget
Lonely children all alone
Lonely children have no home
Lonely children on the run
Hope someday therell be someone
Lonely, lonely children

song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daddy Won't Be Home Anymore

(Dolly Parton)
As I look around the little house we were so happy in
I think of all the happy times we'll never see again
Then I break down and start to cry, the children ask what for
I can't find a way to tell them that Daddy won't be home anymore
Each night before they go to sleep they fold their little hands
And say a prayer for Daddy fighting in their far-off land
So tonight I'll help them say their prayers like I've always done before
God give me courage to tell them that Daddy won't be home anymore
But honey as for me there'll never be another man
And I'll bring our children up the best way that I can
You died for what you thought was right that much I know for sure
But the children just can't understand why Daddy won't be home anymore
No the children just don't understand why Daddy won't be home anymore

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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School is practice for future life, practice makes perfect and nobodys perfect, so why practice?

quote by Billie Joe Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Your Spirit Right

Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!

Be active in the practice,
Of prayer...
Everyday.
You can!

Care less about the he said,
Or she said...
Conflicting pickers of fights.
They'll keep you awake with sleepless nights.

Be true to your practice,
In active...
Prayer,
Everyday.
You can!

Erratic tactics,
Keep captive...
With distractions,
To minimize your pride.

Don't worry about their appetites...
For doing things the wrong way.
You stay on the side of what's right,
Now!

Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!

Be active in the practice,
With swift actions of your prayers...
Everyday.
You can!

Get your spirit right!
Let backbiters do what they do.
You can choose not to approve!

Just keep your practice,
Active...
In prayer,
Everyday.
You can!

Don't worry about their appetites...
For doing things the wrong way.
You stay on the side of what's right,
Now!

Practice.
Active,
Prayer...
Everyday,
You can!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Practice Maker Perfect

D. roberts / e. gold
If practice makes perfect
Lets try that old embrace
In some romantic place
Where we can take out time
If practice makes perfect
Just close you eyes again
Well try those sights again
And make them more sublime
Were in loves kindergarden
Learning from a to z
And if its fun just starting
Think what its going to be
If practice makes perfect
Lets have that kiss again
We mustn miss again
Were not doing bad right now
Were not doing bad
Lets practice some more
Were not doing bad right now

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celtic Ray

When lewellyn comes around
And he goes through market town
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready?
When mcmannus comes around
On his early morning rounds
Crying hey...
Youll be on the celtic ray
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
When the coal brick man comes round
On a cold november day
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready? are you ready?
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Ive been away from the ray too long
Ive been away from the ray too long
All over ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, come home children
Children, come home on the celtic ray
In the early morning well go walking
Where the light comes shining through
On the celtic ray
Come home children
Come home on the celtic ray

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Sky

Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your children’s cries
They have been taken away
By non tribal hands

To a place far from your eyes
Taken off of federal land
Your children now cry for you
Eighteen of your children missing

Their spirits grow weak
Has they are together trying to reach you
Wishing to be back home
Under your watchful eyes

Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your people’s cries
We wish to have our family
And our friends back home

Investigations continues for your children
The eighteen that are missing
Photograph taken of the site
Now are missing as well

Eighteen children missing
From our holy cemetery
Help us find your missing children
Whose tribe looks endlessly for them

We want them back home
Here in Kingman Arizona
Home of the Hualpai tribe

poem by Davina Vanessa Rivas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Way Back Home

(Vince Gill)
A little girl was cryin'
for her mama and her daddy
She couldn't understand why they were gone
She never knew the danger
Of talking to a stranger
Now the girl can't find her way back home
A little boy went walkin'
Down to the corner market
To buy a loaf of bread and an ince cream cone
He never knew the dnager
Of talkin' to a stranger
Now the boy can't find the way back home
Too many kids are missin'
Is anybody listening?
Won't you be the children's eyes
They're all alone
The hardest part's not knowing
Where they are or where they're going
Won't you help the children find
The way back home
The faces on milk cartons
Thrown away and soon forgotten
What if one of those sweet kids
Was your very own
Tonight those kids are weeping
While yours are safely sleeping
Won't you help the children find
The way back home
Too many kids are missin'
Is anybody listening?
Won't you be the children's eyes
They're all alone
The hardest part's not knowing
Where they are or where they're going
Won't you help the children find
The way back home
Won't you help the children find
The way back home

song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With A Caring Less Of Their Obviousness

Not having an ability to face truth,
When the practice of hiding behind excuses...
Has become as stale as denials still used,
Makes the mistakes made by innocent children...
More comforting to witness,
Than the fools adults make of themselves.
Especially the ones attempting to implement,
The same innocence.

And since children haven't lived that long,
To be labelled with a title of ignorant.
There are many who have reached adulthood...
That seem to be proud to be entitled as such,
With a caring less of their obviousness.
To earn to get no respect.
Even from their own children.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candy Lady

Candy lady keep selling the candies to the children here at home
Because the children here at home loves to buy candy
Specially from you everyday here at home
Candy lady the candies that you sell to the children taste just like Heaven to them

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nativity only is not loyalty

Your mother is the Queen to reign in your home,
Not born though was she in your home.
With her blood drawn from her parental home,
She breathes your air, prides with a parental air.
That impeded not her taking you under her wings.
A woman of virtue is worth ruling her children’s home.
So is Sonia Gandhi, worth ruling her children’s country.
28.12.2000, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mother

Every criminal has a Mother!
And this Mother goes to the *Supreme Court
And begs for his Son!
Then the Magistrate tells her;
'I am sorry Mother, your son has killed another son.'
Then Mom says; 'In Your honourable Court every criminal hangs? '
'That depends on the Witness.' The Judge said politely.
'O.K. Sir, You hang me and send my son home because he wants to be a Judge one day! '
You see, only a Mother can sing that sad song!

[*This special Supreme Court even the Magistrates could practice.]

* To Maxim Gorky for his superb novel 'Mother'.

Quoted from 'get on the bus' (Uniting children with their mothers and fathers in prison.) 'I noticed things about my mother: She was pretty and she looked like me.I found something in common with all the children on the bus.They have a Mother in prison too. -a little girl-

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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When the Parents Refuse to Come Home

When the parents refuse to come home
The children sleep beneath the babysitter’s skirt.
She will eat you out of house and home.
When the parents refuse to come home
The children shall set the house on fire,
And the babysitter shall save the family pet
That is content to be hand fed at the breast.
This night the parents are outside the loop,
They are out for a night on the town to renew their bound without the incessant want of children who shall burn the house down for attention.
The babysitter is watching TV under the blaze of the burning house where the family pet snicks beneath the smoke colleted by the ceiling.
When the parents stay out all night the children are discontented with the babysitter who have no time for children, she rather babysat the TV.
The babysitter refuse to pay taxes on her earning, she have parked the children in their beds where they learn the art of conversation from the TV.
The parents are having fun while the children are safe in the dream shatter of the right brain telling midnight stories of the day’s doings and the babysitter has invited her boy friend over for the night and he will eat you out of house and home while in their dream the children are buring the house down.
When the parents dance the night away in the night club the children are dreaming of the violent of the babysitter who eat the last of the pot roast left over from dinner.
When the parents refuse to come home the babysitter is contemplating the meaning of death and dying in the burning house.
The babysitter will grow up to become a parent and she will hire a babysitter when she go out to dance the night away as her children burn the house down.

poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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