Bonkers For Conkers!
A tiny chestnut tree grew tall
To span the decades well
And in the Autumn or the Fall,
Its spiky conkers fell...
The green leaves lost their chlorophyll,
Became like gold leaf's glow
And children gathered with the thrill,
Grabbed conkers then would go...
A piece of string, a three inch nail
And soon it's testing time,
For some succeed while others fail,
No reason and no rhyme...
Some are champions, born to win,
Despite a crack or two,
As if so brave they won't give in,
They're forced to see things through...
The chestnut tree stayed where it was,
Of fights it wasn't told,
But if it knew, it would be cross,
Because that's kind of cold...
Its children smashed to smithereens,
Defenceless every one,
By human children, even teens,
As if such games were fun...
Tremendous trees deserve much more,
Their grandeur warms the heart...
Alas, Man has no Conkers Law,
So no-one makes a start...
Thus conkers end up fighting fights,
While children laugh with glee,
For all of these lack wise insights,
Hence inhumanity...
Now you may giggle, laugh and snort!
Why should you care at all?
I bet you never gave a thought,
Why should you? You've left school...
Should conker contests carry on?
Or should we get them banned?
If all the chestnut trees were gone,
Perhaps you'd understand...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
See The Children
(la la la la la la la...)
I stopped the car
The other day
I had to ask a little
Girl the way
I thought she'd show me
Better if she got inside
And once inside
I thought i'd taker her
For a little ride...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
I'm a supermarket santa
Underneath the christmas tree
The little one all like to
Come and sit upon my knee
I have to hold them tightly
'cause they fall to the floor
A little concern ain't
Against the law...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time
See the children
(something something something??) all the time
I pass by the infant school
Every single day
I push sweeties through the fence
But the kids just run way
I only want to talk with them
And join in their fun
But all the little children do
Is run run run run run run run run...
(la la la la la la, la la la la la la..etc..)
See the children
Feel the children all the time..
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time........
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Children Of Persia
Children of persia
Some are the brothers of human kind
And own them, whatsoever their estate;
And some for, for sorrow and self- scorn
Man's enmity with unguarded fate
Feel the love tonight
I will cherished you children of persia
Children of persia I put a smile on the faces of you all
So show your smile for me in return
I give you praises
For being the children of persia
I light up your life children of persia
I share this music that fills my heart with you children of persia
This is your song children of persia
So let's sing it along
The magic comes along
God will lift up your spirit children of persia
If you need to cry children of persia
I will understand
Go ahead and cry
If you want to laugh
Laugh your heart out children of persia
I won't let you fall
Children of persia
I will never abandon you children of persia
This is your song
Let all your fears die children of persia
I am your friend children of persia
What are you going to do at the end?
Children of persia I believe you all could fly
Won't you light the way God for the children of persia?
Children of persia believe in your dreams
Don't give up your hopes children of persia
When tears are in your eyes children of persia I will dry them
I am on your side children of persia when times are rough
Children of persia
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night a candle glows
Children of persia
I believe that the prayers you are saying will be answered
Children of persia
Children of persia you all live from day to day
And you children of persia don't borrow from the sunshine
Children of persia your future is written in the stars
Children of persia I don't want to watch you all drown
Children of persia don't worry about tomorrow
Because tomorrow will worry for it's self
I don't want to hurt you children of persia
This is true
I am being honest with you all children of persia
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Along Came a Spider
Three small children played under the trees,
giggling as the crimson leaves
floated down onto their soft, innocent hands.
They ran about after eacher other
until they collapsed on the roots
holding the forest together
and their breath came out as a flutter,
their giggles came out in bursts,
and their hair stuck to moist skin.
They were tired.
They decided to go hom for their supper,
as they knew that their mothers would worry.
But, along came a spider.
This spider was no monster.
It was no towering beast coming
to attack the children. To do them harm.
It simply scurried past them,
and somewhere in their human nature,
the children were told to follow.
The children did as they were told.
To a feast the children came, following this spider,
and grinned at a tiny table set for a hundred-
each guest sat in his chair.
Their friend, the spider, took his seat and awaited
his applause, for he had brought,
as the party knew,
their dinner, fresh and soft.
And so the insects climbed the children;
they giggle as the tiny feet
caressed their untainted skin,
and the children ran in circles
with their new tiny friends,
until the insects could hold on no longer
and the children were safe at home.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Horse Sense Under The Oak Tree
It was the greenest green
that she had ever seen.
A tiny, sad-eyed frog,
daydreaming on a log.
'She' was, of course, a horse,
who used, as a good source
of minerals the log
upon which sat the frog.
It was a cloudless, balmy day
and many children were at play.
They did not bother either critter
due to their spinster babysitter.
Thus undisturbed, they did commence
a conversation near the fence.
The mare inquired why the green
was something she had never seen.
The frog, though young, said 'At my age
I'm somewhat of a macrophage,
my diet has its own routine
most bugs I eat contain some green.
Derived from noble chlorophyll,
the stuff keeps you from getting ill.'
' I see', the horse said, 'what about
a horse like me? I'm rather stout,
a fancy Palomino mare
with chestnut colour, which is rare.
Mind you, I like the way I look
in the reflection of the brook
up at the quarry, near the tip,
though I don't like my lower lip.'
'I know', the frog huffed, 'you were born
with chestnut colour on that morn,
what keeps you chestnut is your habit
to get up late, unlike the rabbit,
you eat the grass when it turns brown! '
The mare had placed a thoughtful frown
upon her fat-lipped oblong face,
'now understand that our race
is quite superior to small fry
like frogs and insects, who all die
without a funeral or wake.
You just get eaten, for the sake
of fighting excess population.
Which, a result of fornication
takes food away from upper classes!
I'm sure you've heard of 'horses' asses',
that shows how popular we are.
A horse is, everywhere, a star......'
'But Sire', interjects the frog,
I am just like a vital cog,
without me, bugs would take control,
that's why all creatures play a role.'
The mare regarded him with pity,
' You do not grasp the nitty-gritty,
I do not mind your bulging eyes,
but in this life, what counts is size! '
They talked some more, but in a while
the frog was tasting bitter bile
inside his gallic apparatus.
But when the mare let out a flatus
it was too much of condescension.
And, rapidly, now grew the tension.
An oak tree who had lived nearby
since Julius Ceasar said good-bye
had overheard this harsh exchange,
suggested that he could arrange
a resolution to enable
both animals within this fable
to make their peace without delay,
as oak trees always find a way.
So, in the shadow of the tree
they let their bygones bygone be.
The oak had told them that 'with age
one gradually discards their rage.
And green turns brown, and brown turns gray
and all of that is quite okay.
But that the wisdom of the ages
occurs reluctantly, in stages,
and that no creature can be free
until they reach old age like me.'
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let Us Talk About The Hunger
Let's talk about the children
Not the tigers trees or whales
Let's talk about the hunger.
Not the guns sins or jails
Let's talk about the innocent blood
Not god faith or prophets
Let's talk about the tears.
Maybe then we can stop it
Let's talk about the reason
Children sleep out in the cold
I'm tired of the greenhouse speech
It's getting a little old.
Let's talk about the meaning
Of why the world is blind
Sound asleep and dreaming
Everyone has words to cure.
Silent are the voices
When human blood is spilled
Before we save the whales and trees
Let's talk about truth
Children come before the trees
Let's discuss the root.
A noble act indeed
But if we spent it on the children
We would give meaning to the seed
Let's talk about the day
We set the children free
Show them they are loved
More than any animal or tree
poem by Dr.genny Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Foolish Fir-Tree
A tale that the poet Rückert told
To German children, in days of old;
Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme
Like a merry mummer of ancient time,
And sent, in its English dress, to please
The little folk of the Christmas trees.
A little fir grew in the midst of the wood
Contented and happy, as young trees should.
His body was straight and his boughs were clean;
And summer and winter the bountiful sheen
Of his needles bedecked him, from top to root,
In a beautiful, all-the-year, evergreen suit.
But a trouble came into his heart one day,
When he saw that the other trees were gay
In the wonderful raiment that summer weaves
Of manifold shapes and kinds of leaves:
He looked at his needles so stiff and small,
And thought that his dress was the poorest of all.
Then jealousy clouded the little tree's mind,
And he said to himself, "It was not very kind
"To give such an ugly old dress to a tree!
"If the fays of the forest would only ask me,
"I'd tell them how I should like to be dressed,—
"In a garment of gold, to bedazzle the rest!"
So he fell asleep, but his dreams were bad.
When he woke in the morning, his heart was glad;
For every leaf that his boughs could hold
Was made of the brightest beaten gold.
I tell you, children, the tree was proud;
He was something above the common crowd;
And he tinkled his leaves, as if he would say
To a pedlar who happened to pass that way,
"Just look at me! don't you think I am fine?
"And wouldn't you like such a dress as mine?"
"Oh, yes!" said the man, "and I really guess
I must fill my pack with your beautiful dress."
So he picked the golden leaves with care,
And left the little tree shivering there.
"Oh, why did I wish for golden leaves?"
The fir-tree said, "I forgot that thieves
"Would be sure to rob me in passing by.
"If the fairies would give me another try,
"I'd wish for something that cost much less,
"And be satisfied with glass for my dress!"
Then he fell asleep; and, just as before,
The fairies granted his wish once more.
When the night was gone, and the sun rose clear,
The tree was a crystal chandelier;
And it seemed, as he stood in the morning light,
That his branches were covered with jewels bright.
"Aha!" said the tree. "This is something great!"
And he held himself up, very proud and straight;
But a rude young wind through the forest dashed,
In a reckless temper, and quickly smashed
The delicate leaves. With a clashing sound
They broke into pieces and fell on the ground,
Like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail,
And the tree stood naked and bare to the gale.
Then his heart was sad; and he cried, "Alas
"For my beautiful leaves of shining glass!
"Perhaps I have made another mistake
"In choosing a dress so easy to break.
"If the fairies only would hear me again
"I'd ask them for something both pretty and plain:
"It wouldn't cost much to grant my request,—
"In leaves of green lettuce I'd like to be dressed!"
By this time the fairies were laughing, I know;
But they gave him his wish in a second; and so
With leaves of green lettuce, all tender and sweet,
The tree was arrayed, from his head to his feet.
"I knew it!" he cried, "I was sure I could find
"The sort of a suit that would be to my mind.
"There's none of the trees has a prettier dress,
"And none as attractive as I am, I guess."
But a goat, who was taking an afternoon walk,
By chance overheard the fir-tree's talk.
So he came up close for a nearer view;—
"My salad!" he bleated, "I think so too!
"You're the most attractive kind of a tree,
"And I want your leaves for my five-o'clock tea."
So he ate them all without saying grace,
And walked away with a grin on his face;
While the little tree stood in the twilight dim,
With never a leaf on a single limb.
Then he sighed and groaned; but his voice was weak—
He was so ashamed that he could not speak.
He knew at last that he had been a fool,
To think of breaking the forest rule,
And choosing a dress himself to please,
Because he envied the other trees.
But it couldn't be helped, it was now too late,
He must make up his mind to a leafless fate!
So he let himself sink in a slumber deep,
But he moaned and he tossed in his troubled sleep,
Till the morning touched him with joyful beam,
And he woke to find it was all a dream.
For there in his evergreen dress he stood,
A pointed fir in the midst of the wood!
His branches were sweet with the balsam smell,
His needles were green when the white snow fell.
And always contented and happy was he,—
The very best kind of a Christmas tree.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The computer tree- algorithm (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)
A free tree is never rooted
Infinite complete binary tree
A finger tree has internal nodes
Each one in this tree has child nodes
And their connection is a walk
Parents and children walking the tree
Nodes without children are called leaves
While roots are leaves for the finger trees
Very intelligent words tree
Trees-no one-to-one correspondence
Adaptive merging operation
Implementing finger searching trees.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song
And when our streets are green again
When metalled roads are green
And girls walk barefoot through the weeds
Of Regent Street, Saint Martin's Lane
And children hide in factories
Where burdock blooms and vetch and rust,
And elms and oaks and chestnut trees
Are tall again and hope is lost
When up the Strand the foxes glide
And hedgehogs sniff and wildcats yell
And golden orioles come back
To flash through Barnes and Clerkenwell
When governments and industries
Lie choked by weeds in fertile rain
For sure the few who stay alive
Will laugh and grow to love again
poem by John Mcgrath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
40-40 Home
Think in time
Early evening light will start to fade
And well be called inside
To wait for chance to say
Can I stay out late or maybe just an hour
But when you call I know that all I have to say is...
Forty forty home
You never could catch me
With a stocking and a ball
Around the world a yo-yo spun
You would skip and I would run
Those long days are slipping away
Days will pass
Taking turns to hide and lose our way
And beats will change the rhythm of the year
A worn out gate will swingalongasister
And running out calling to a friendly teaser
Forty forty home
You never would catch me
My ball against the wall
But around the world a yo-yo spun
Dodge the conkers one by one
But yours always came my way
Cross my path was something
I could not expect again
From beast to beauty, beautiful remain
Slide this way
Dont leave your past in shadow
And paper plane will fly your way on golden wings of...
Forty forty home
So now you have caught me
Your stocking said it all
Played the game and won, two, three
Made your move and captured me
So never let me go
Counting the spots on the lino
It seemed such a waste of time
But cant you stick to your side of the garden?
And I to mine!
Forty forty home
You never would catch me
My ball against the wall
But around the world a yo-yo spun
Dodge the conkers one by one
But yours always came my way
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Children Power
Children power,
Children power,
Children power,
Children power.
Monkeys are jumping from tree to tree,
Whales are swimming from sea to sea,
Birds are flying from sky to sky,
People are seeing eye to eye.
Were all one.
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power. (children power)
Earth is turning evry day,
Rivers are flowing in every way.
Trees are growing day by day,
And people are loving in their own way.
Were all one.
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power, (children power)
Children power. (children power)
Caring people, (caring people)
Loving people, (loving people)
Learning people, (learning people)
Growing people, were all one.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Goodbye
As the rich red leaves blow down the street
I slowly look down at my feet
The leaves are gone
Apart from one
I pick it up
Winter has arrived, and autumn has had to go
Goodbye colourful leaves, hello frostie snow
The conkers have gone, autumn memories fade
The weather gets worse, all the traffics delayed
The air gets colder, and the nights draw in
The noisy winter wind makes such a din
As the rich red leaves blow down the street
I slowly look down at my feet
The leaves are gone
Every last one
Autumns moved on, winters begun.
poem by Franchesca Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Algorithm of a tree (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)
(A two line image poem, often with a title, in which euphony is the key factor.
Each line may have 8 or 9 syllables to make a total of seventeen)
A free tree is never rooted,
Infinite complete binary tree.
A finger tree has internal nodes and
Each one in this tree has child nodes.
And their connection is a walk,
Parents and children walking the tree.
Nodes without children are called leaves,
While roots are leaves for the finger trees.
Very intelligent are the words tree,
Trees-no one-to-one correspondence,
Adaptive merging operation,
Implementing finger search trees.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ladies' Walk
As children, we loved to go to Ladies’ Walk, if the weather was fine.
The Walk, itself, was situated at the top of town, atop a gentle incline.
To us, as children, the Walk seemed to stretch onwards, for many a mile;
It seemed to us, with our little legs, to be as long as the mighty River Nile.
The earthen path was covered by a canopy of tall, towering trees.
Aromas from the world of nature wafted upon the gentle breeze.
On either side, there were large fields, where horses often grazed.
From vantage points, down upon the town, we would stop and gaze.
My brother and I would often play a game of Hide ‘n’ Seek;
From out of behind the tall trees, we took it in turns, to peek.
We loved to collect conkers; I loved their smooth, shiny shells.
I was blown away by the patches of pretty, blossoming bluebells.
Often, I would find sheep’s wool, caught on the fence of barbed wire;
Of collecting nature’s trinkets and treasures, I never ever seemed to tire.
The tall trees had been there for many a year; some sported ivy-clad bark.
Some were etched with initials and hearts, where lovers had left their mark.
The path was said to be haunted by a man, who was headless, of course;
At dusk, he’d be seen riding along, mounted upon his trusty white horse.
At the very end of the pathway, there were remains of an old Roman road;
I could almost imagine the armies marching along, laden with heavy loads.
Upon our return home, we were always exhausted from being out and about;
We would sit on the floor, while mum cooked tea, and sort our treasures out.
Ladies’ Walk still exists, but from what I have heard, it’s changed somewhat;
But the special times that we spent there as a family, I have never ever forgot.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The two of us
We were ragged
We played in the street
We never had enough to eat.
We had conkers for toys
and strings in our knickers.
We went barefoot,
we never had slippers.
You had a rabbit
and I had a cat,
you had long socks,
some didn't have that.
We had green fields
in the summertime.
We had fresh air
as good as wine.
We had each other,
you and I.
But above all else
no matter what,
we had love
and that's a lot.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Future of Forestry
How will the legend of the age of trees
Feel, when the last tree falls in England?
When the concrete spreads and the town conquers
The country’s heart; when contraceptive
Tarmac’s laid where farm has faded,
Tramline flows where slept a hamlet,
And shop-fronts, blazing without a stop from
Dover to Wrath, have glazed us over?
Simplest tales will then bewilder
The questioning children, “What was a chestnut?
Say what it means to climb a Beanstalk,
Tell me, grandfather, what an elm is.
What was Autumn? They never taught us.”
Then, told by teachers how once from mould
Came growing creatures of lower nature
Able to live and die, though neither
Beast nor man, and around them wreathing
Excellent clothing, breathing sunlight –
Half understanding, their ill-acquainted
Fancy will tint their wonder-paintings
Trees as men walking, wood-romances
Of goblins stalking in silky green,
Of milk-sheen froth upon the lace of hawthorn’s
Collar, pallor in the face of birchgirl.
So shall a homeless time, though dimly
Catch from afar (for soul is watchfull)
A sight of tree-delighted Eden.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fifties
I can remember when children behaved like children.
especially when school closed for the summer recess.
After breakfast we met up for another adventure,
with a bottle of water and sandwiches of jam, or cress.
We would set off for the not too far badlands,
where the taboo river was shallow enough to cross.
With our bows and arrows crafted from willow,
and our quivers made from old school socks.
In a clearing surrounded by trees we'd make camp
and build a fire protected by stones.
We'd sit down cross legged and tell stories of interest,
and crack jokes as old, as old bones.
After a laugh and an exchange of sandwiches,
we'd build a den from branches with leaves.
We'd go swimming in the shallows of the river
until the pangs of hunger forced us to leave.
This was a typical summer's day of adventure,
a day when friends in the morning met.
A day of many that was well worth remembering,
and in adulthood how could we forget.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children’s Day 2011
The bud that tried to form some way
Was disallowed from doing so;
The bud that sprung out fine one day
Couldn’t blossom like how others do.
The buds that bloomed into flowers
Got plucked or crushed before they grew;
The flowers that found the rain showers
Got withered unseeded by dew!
When children are future adults on earth,
Why parents choose to play God while in womb?
And kill them mercilessly before birth,
Converting their first home into a tomb!
When love of God has formed them healthy, hale,
Should mom or dad decide their destiny?
And if to Maker unborn tell their tale,
God’s rage will rise supporting the tiny!
Let parents love their kids before their birth;
Let unborn see world’s grandeur that’s God-made;
Let human beings be humane on earth;
Let love of life be prime and hatred fade!
Allow all children to be born and fed;
Give them the love and tender care they need;
Bestow the warmth and human touch in bed;
Let children grow like mammoth trees from seed!
On Children’s Day, let love enter young hearts;
Let children not be unwanted on earth;
Let children not be used as man’s spare-parts;
Let every nation feel proud by their birth!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Children
Little children are a gift
An heritage in the Lord
That we might learn humility
According to God's Word.
Little children teach us much
As we open to their love
For we must be as little children
To our Father from above.
Little children are a blessing
As we watch them play and laugh
For when we look at little children
We see no hate nor wrath.
Little children God does give us
That as parents we might be,
A reflection of the Lord
God calls this, family.
For our Father up above
Told us in His Son;
'You cannot enter heaven-
unless like little children you become'
So let's bless our little children
As they grow from day to day;
Learn to be like Yeshua to them
And train them in their way.
poem by Richard Merrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Children
What children need is love and care;
Unfairness, they can never bear;
They fight by calling silly names;
They can devise their own good games.
They want nice words for achievements;
And they forget their arguments;
They seek attention all the time;
They love to watch clowns and to mime.
Alas, they are like tender shoots!
They need good foundation like roots;
They crave for opportunities;
They’re offended when others tease.
Children are children everywhere;
To do brave acts, at times, they dare;
They must be given freedom, rights;
They fear darkness and violent sights.
They are the wealth of nations all!
They aim to do things truly tall;
They must be nourished truly well,
Or else, they soon become quite ill.
Yet, children are abused a lot;
As babies, they are killed in cots;
They’re made to work for paltry sums,
And live in unhygienic slums!
Will not the world open its eyes?
Our children should not take to vice;
Adults must give them good advice;
They must become citizens wise!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Plum's Destiny
A little plum dropped from the tree
and struck a frog upon his knee.
The frog did hurt and cried a lot
the plum said Oops, I plum forgot.
Which wasn't altogether true
you see a plum is always blue
a frog however must be green
thus he can easily be seen.
So, folks, it truly stands to reason
that in the Fall, the ripening season
a bit of care would be advised
that way a frog is not surprised.
In any case, the knee did swell
the plum just stayed right where it fell,
so in an effort now to heal
the frog fell for the plum appeal.
He grabbed the plum and opened wide
the plum prepared for its last ride.
And said before it was too late
a plum is to be eaten, mate.
So, you can see that those that fall
from trees or buildings, big and tall
will usually just fail to see
the maker of their destiny.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!