Pope John Paul II (A Biography Poem Sequence-1)
The Pope’s Childhood Days:
His home was near to Peter’s square;
The Church had cast its spiritual air
That made Karol, a pope at last,
And rather young and very fast!
His pious parents reared him well;
Prayers were done as if by bell;
As altar-boy in his parish,
His childhood days, he did cherish.
The passion plays of Calvary,
Brought him to Christ, Mother Mary;
His chief weapon, the rosary
Helped war against Satan wary.
His childhood days were prayerful;
The chapel was so wonderful;
Karol was on his knees for long,
Meditating on things gone wrong.
Alone, he prayed with outstretched hands,
With face down on the stone-floor sands;
Engrossed in prayer, he had spent
Long hours with God, with body bent!
The Nazi-boot noise hurt him much;
He slept upon the floor, not couch;
With body spread like perfect cross,
Praying in silence, without pause.
The screaming sirens rent the air;
The noise of explosions was there;
Karol unperturbed walked his way
Across the bridge to Church, to pray!
He had submitted to God’s will;
A sense of calm just kept him still;
While hell was breaking loose around,
Young Karol stood fearless and sound.
He held some persons in esteem;
The modern science was not a dream;
Yet, Karol was aflame with God,
And speaking rather, looking odd.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-01-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Pope John Paul II (A Biography Poem Sequence)
Karol Josef Wojtyla was
Born in Poland’s town, Wadowice,
On May,18th,1920,
Grew up to be remarkably!
The son of Pole army father,
And loving school-teacher mother,
He was athlete, soccer-player,
A dare-devil river-swimmer!
He loved to be a good actor;
Love for literature, a factor;
He worked part-time as stone-cutter,
As Nazis downed every shutter!
When eight-years’ old, his mother died;
When still quite young, his brother died;
When twenty years old, father died;
The loss of dear lives, he couldn’t hide!
His mother, brother, father died;
Nation was Nazi-occupied!
A quarry work, gave him the buck
The war deprived Karol good luck!
His mother’s death affected his
Life on earth that had turned amiss;
The violent blows opened up new
Spiritual depths of heart to view.
His father fell upon his knees
In prayer, asking God for peace;
This man had taught him what’s duty,
And explained things of mystery.
He saw the frenzied Nazis kill;
Yet, it was also holy will;
He drew from God his strength while ill;
His faith gave him a hearty fill!
He helped the Jews from Nazis’ hands;
He loved to travel across lands;
When call to priest-hood came one day,
From accident, in bed, he lay.
Ordained as priest in ’46,
Became Bishop in ’58,
Vicar capitular, even,
Cardinal in ’67.
He rose to be a good leader;
He was a poet and writer;
Communism was his one hate!
He was made Pope in ’78!
He was the first pope from Poland;
And shot in Peter’s Square, his land!
He prayed to Mother Mary and
Recovered through her divine hand!
He met assassin in prison,
Forgiving him, his murder-sin;
His talk to him was kept secret;
To youngsters, he opened his heart!
First World Youth Day was held in Rome;
With people young, he was at home;
They were to live by Bible’s Word,
And spread the message of Christ Lord.
He went to see the Holy Land!
His life was linked home Poland,
That gave him his Christian vision,
And on earth, his papal mission!
His heart had roots in Polish soil;
His antecedence, made him toil;
He was a modern global pope,
Who gave mankind, a special hope!
He was an intellectual man,
Who came out of the Vatican,
And founded churches everywhere;
And breathed for long, a friendly air!
He worked to make peace with all Jews;
He was a pope always in news;
He was the most popular pope;
Despite all darkness, he didn’t grope!
He raised his voice against evils;
He cautioned all against devils;
He listed out the mortal sins
That filled the modern man’s soul-bins!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-01-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Popularity comes from allowing yourself to be bored by people while pretending to enjoy it.
quote by Karol Newlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Holy Rosary
O let me say a ‘Hail Mary’,
And add a white rose to the crown,
Atop the head of Heav’n’s Queen –
Mary, Mother of Jesus Christ.
O let me say a rosary,
And place a crown of white roses,
Upon the head of Queen Mary –
Mother of God’s son, Jesus Christ.
The perfect array of prayers,
That brings all souls to Salvation,
By freeing them from every sin,
And bestowing God’s redemption.
Our Lady loves the Rosary,
And grants requests, reciting it;
And converts souls to divine love,
By warding off all evils rife.
Most powerful weapon on earth,
That draws God’s mercy and His grace,
And makes a person most devout,
And holy like Christ’s own mother!
The Rosary – gift of Mother
Mary, has every prayer
That’s needed for miracles too,
And heaven’s blessings, one can woo!
Mary, Jesus’ intercessor,
Can get things done, we ask from God;
And spares sinners from fire of hell,
And from Almighty’s just, fair rod!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-27-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Marian Holy Rosary
A crown of roses for her head;
A rose-garland for heaven’s queen;
A heap of rose-petals for feet,
That’s what the Rosary’s about.
The queen of beauteous flowers –Rose,
Whose perfume tickles any nose!
What hues and sizes grow on earth!
Give them to Mary, full of mirth.
St. Dominic was first to get,
The rosary when he had met
Our Lady of the Rosary,
Lord Jesus Christ’s Mother Mary!
The string of beads stands for prayers –
A magic blend for all sayers;
Just pray with meaning, mind steadfast,
To get the mother’s blessings vast!
A lovely weapon against foes;
A contemplation ’midst our woes;
Reciting it, we earn graces,
And win life’s spiritual races.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-30-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pope John Paul II (A Biography Poem Sequence-4)
Faith of the Millennial Pope: contd
He prayed to Mary and all saints,
And drew from them, his divine paints,
That sketched the glorious work of God,
And brought more souls to Lord’s abode!
Faith sustains man throughout his life,
Providing answers for things rife;
His passion for depicting truth,
Did bear him ultimately, fruit.
The pope, a philosopher great
Was preacher too, with clean a slate;
He loved all mystical debate;
Communism, he did well hate!
His link with God was quite profound;
His faith had strong roots in Poland;
The murders of the Holocaust,
An upheaval of heart had caused.
He fought against ‘culture of death’;
He was Christ-centered right from birth;
Spirit mattered in life on earth;
Christ was the crucified God-Mirth!
How could man live in harmony
Away from God, with just money?
How could there be a destiny
Without a true eternity?
To him, Christ was the only hope,
For mankind’s woes, and every pope;
That came from suff’ring on the cross,
And showed that Christ was God and Boss!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-01-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pope in US
(A poetic gist by Dr John Celes, India)
A historical moment for the world;
Pope 265 set foot on US soil;
Pope Benedict XVI was his name
The Apostle of peace and human rights;
He planned his itinerary with shrewdness;
He touched upon all themes that plague the world;
He brought the only hope to US- Christ;
‘With faith, let’s encounter the living God.’
He timed his visit when he thought most fit;
‘Humanism must be revived quickly.’
Modern world dabbled with key issues now.
The foundation of faith was in doldrums.
The heart of man could not be won by war;
For lasting peace, dialogue was needed;
He left his mark, indelible behind;
America could not forget the Pope!
The Gentle Giant spoke in candid terms;
The world cannot rely on human strength;
The help of God was needed doubtlessly;
He brought to US blessings from heaven!
The nation’s heart and mind was enraptured;
They heard the Pope’s message most lovingly;
God’s humble servant made them even laugh;
All human life was sacred until death!
All Catholics were directed to follow
The teachings of the Holy Catholic Church;
They should reflect their faith in daily lives;
And leaders weren’t exception to this rule.
Human sexuality was sacrosanct;
All clerics must be pure in heart and soul;
Few good priests were better than many bad;
The Church and world were at cross-roads today!
Society’s foundations were crumbling fast!
Good families formed framework of the church;
Morality couldn’t be thrown to the winds;
Freedom entailed preserving one’s virtues.
Vicar of Christ- the Pope lauded US;
‘May God bless America even more! ’
Americans should set an example
In earthly life to others in the globe!
Prez Bush saw God very eyes of Pope!
Pope came to feed those souls hungry for God;
He prayed terrorists’ hatred hearts too change;
Love was the one weapon to win all wars!
The world was glad to see Pope in US!
May be, God would do miracles through him;
‘The sheep were happy with their Good Shepherd! ’
May be, the world would make a new beginning!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-22-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Above the ocean, stands a star –
In human form and feminine;
She carries in her hands, a babe –
The Son of God, the King divine!
She calls us all to pray with her –
For conversion of heathen souls;
She tells the rosary is one –
That saves sinners from going to hell.
The baby boy with her is Christ –
Who died upon the cross for us;
He is the light and way and truth –
Through Him we go to heaven’s bliss.
So, pray the rosary, will you?
No harm can ever befall you;
The Virgin Mary can help you
To keep your soul in grace, sin-free.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-31-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children's Special...
Every child is born with a gift,
and there is a day to celebrate it.
A child is your treasure given by God,
Be blessed so, and pray to the Lord,
for that child gives you happiness,
Gone are your day's of loneliness.
Childhood does not last,
Every child remembers the past,
It depends on how you groom,
Give the child more than a room.
A child carries an ocean of innocence,
not knowing it's consequence,
does a deed that is not desired,
Many parents have always admired.
Thinking of a day for children,
is a wonderful thought,
Cherish every moment of what they have brought,
to you with their playful minds,
which do leave a trail of joy in your mind.
Remember your own childhood days,
make it more than special today,
make the children feel how good you felt that day,
when you celebrated the children's day,
in your childhood days.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Childhood Reminiscences
But this is how we were when kids;
And this is how most passed childhood;
We dressed and played all kinds of games;
We never knew what risks, life brings.
Our childhood life was best of all;
Our parents met our every want;
What love they gave, we can’t repay;
Our lives went off in dreams and play.
Those pleasant days cannot come back;
The memories are evergreen;
As children we were angelic!
Oh, what a change when now adults!
Those were the days of real joy;
A little pain was there, sometimes;
To most, it was a care-free life;
We wish but can’t go back in time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-27-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vox Ecclesiae, Vox Christi
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in sooth,
There more than elsewhere,—is the cry, “How long?”
The right sown there hath still borne fruit in wrong—
The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence, (in hate of truth)
O'er weapons blessed for carnage, to fierce youth
From evil age, the word hath hissed along:—
“Ye are the Lord's: go forth, destroy, be strong:
Christ's Church absolves ye from Christ's law of ruth.”
Therefore the wine-cup at the altar is
As Christ's own blood indeed, and as the blood
Of Christ's elect, at divers seasons spilt
On the altar-stone, that to man's church, for this,
Shall prove a stone of stumbling,—whence it stood
To be rent up ere the true Church be built.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
‘holy Family Church House-warming, Perundurai, T.n.’
Excerpt from Dr John Celes’ Welcome Speech
(to be held on 05-02-2010)
The Shepherd comes to meet his flock,
And bless the church that’s newly built,
Wherein an older church had stood on rock –
A sacred ground of prayer for Catholics!
Let’s welcome him; let’s welcome him, ye sheep!
He brings with him his staff that protects us;
This is the time our hearts with joy must weep;
The anointing will give us greater bliss.
Let’s thank the Lord for giving us this house
Of prayer to worship the ‘King of kings’;
Let everyone take Jesus Christ as spouse,
And tread the road to heaven as earthlings.
The Church though small looks splendidly laid out;
It has been christened ‘Holy Family Church’;
Our parish is a small one without doubt,
Nevertheless, peeps in internet-search!
The flock is one led by our parish priest,
Father Claudius, a dynamic, young man!
Who works hard without mistakes in the least;
‘May God give him good health and long life-span! ’
Our heart-felt thanks to Bishop and all souls
Who gave the land for building the new Church;
Our hearty thanks to all who played new roles,
And doled the sums that can now help to preach.
God made it possible to build His house!
Let’s worship Him with masses, hymns and pray;
Let’s reach the world at the click of a mouse!
And preach the Word of God by night and day.
We thank You God for giving us this place,
And worship Jesus Christ, as a family;
Let sweat of foreheads reinforce this base,
And help to rear this provident LILY!
Dedicated to: The Most. Rev. Dr. Thomas Aquinas M.A., DCL.,
Bishop of Coimbatore diocese
Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius, the Parish priest and
All parishners of ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai, T.N., ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-11-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Ascending To My Father
I have fallen upon my knees heavily; God cast
me down, before entering this holy sacred spot;
the Garden of Gethsemane, in the Kidron valley;
among those ancient olive trees I pondered
upon my pilgrimage way, their twisted arms their
gnarled trunks, witnessed Jesus pass this way;
blood my Lord sweated here in fear in agony
his prayers to heaven, to his father were carried;
but the bitter cup he bore, could be not removed.
I have walked upon the sacred Via Dolorosa
where Christ carried our bloody cross, chastised
first, by his whipped tortured stripes, we are healed. 1 Peter 2: 24.
I have walked upon the Hill of Calvary Golgotha
where the New Testament describes Jesus, crucified
entered, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, venerated.
Here once many women viewed the crucifixion
from a distance, here by the Cross, three Marys’ stood
Christ’s mother, her sister Mary and Mary Magdalene. John 19: 25.
Here the sepulchre the Church of the Resurrection
acclaimed to be the site, of the resurrection, of Jesus
here while weeping, Mary Magdalene, stooped forward
looked into the memorial tomb and she viewed
two angels in white sitting one at the head
and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had
been lying. And the angels said to her: “Woman,
why are you weeping? ” She said to the angels:
“They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know
where they have taken him.” After saying these things,
she turned and viewed Jesus standing, ....
Jesus said to her: “Stop clinging to me. For I have not yet
ascended to the Father. But be on your way to my brothers
and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and YOUR
Father and to my God and Your God.’ ” Christ had risen. John 20: 11-18.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song in Honor of BVM on Her Birthday (Sept.8th)
Baby Mary born today,
Of Joachim and of Anne;
Chosen by God long ago
To Mother Jesus Christ Lord.
Blessed Virgin Mary dear,
Who found favor in God’s heart;
Mediatrix for mankind;
Pray for us to earn God’s grace!
Holy Mary, God’s Mother;
Queen of heaven forever;
Pure of heart, immaculate
Conception who bore Jesus.
Hail O Mary, clad in grace;
Crushed the Serpent’s head and face!
Help me pray more rosaries
For the souls in purgatory.
Give us health of body, mind;
Help us keep soul in pure state;
Guide us lead a holy life;
And avoid sin and all strife!
Speak O Mary to Jesus;
Help us win against Satan;
Save us from the fire of hell;
Show the way to God’s abode.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-8-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballad: Pope Benedict XVI in US,2008
The Apostle of peace had come:
Pope Benedict by name;
To US, where he was welcome,
With missionary aim.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
In doldrums lies, world of today;
Man’s faith in God is weak;
Most think that science has final say;
So, God, most men don’t seek.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The family in danger lies;
Now love does not prevail;
As virtues are replaced by vice;
And freedom blows like gale.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The quest for God is dying fast;
Rely men in own toil;
‘The mole is mound’- all sins of past!
Man’s soul is on the spoil.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
With fervent prayers, send your pleas,
To God who is above;
The caring God will surely ease
Your problems, with great love.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Encounter living God in life;
Blessings will follow then;
God cares for you in any strife;
Keep eyes upon Heaven.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Though holy is matrimony,
And sacrosanct is sex,
Man sins for sake of more money,
In ways that all can vex!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Like love of God that radiates,
Let man’s heart do like-wise;
Let’s take the narrow road to Gates
Of Heaven; Be soul-wise!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-23-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Lady of Health, Vailangkanni!
O Queen of Heaven, Star of Sea!
Our dear Annai Vailangkanni!
So many met a grave, watery!
Could you not stall the Tsunami?
A lady with her infant child,
Who wore stars for crown on her head,
Had appeared in a divine way,
When sailors prayed for help, that day!
The Portuguese promised to build
A church for her if she would quell
The stormy sea, threatening to kill;
And take them safe to shore God-willed!
They knelt and prayed to her with tears:
‘Mother of Jesus, take our fears;
O Spare our lives for ones all dear! ’
The Queen of Health did promptly hear.
The sea became all quiet, calm;
The ship was protected from harm;
The sailors landed on the shore
Where stood ajar, a church’s door!
Our lady with infant Jesus
Had saved their lives from Satan’s curse;
Their hearts with gratitude afilled;
By miracle, the sea was stilled!
They built a bigger church for her;
And hoisted flag of dear Mother;
The church wrought miracles with time,
As people flocked to her all clime.
O Queen of Heaven, Star of Sea!
Our dear Annai Vailangkanni!
How many died so easily!
Could you not stall the Tsunami?
Perhaps, if they had prayed to her,
She would have saved their lives, mother;
Yet, those inside the Church escaped,
As sea-water did not enter!
While many those around saw death,
Caught by the swirling killer waves,
With death and destruction galore,
The church was spared by miracle!
Pray for us, O Mother Mary!
With tears we say the Rosary;
Our lives at times do turn scary;
Our cross in life, Help us carry!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-24-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Priest with Christ’s Stigmata – St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina
A baby boy was born
to Catholic parents both –
Father, Grazio and mother, Maria,
On May25,1887,
In Pietrelcina, town in Italy.
Fourth amongst the seven children,
He was baptized next day as Francesco,
After St. Francis of Assisi,
At Castle Church.
He was a special child of God.
The Forgione family
Was pious to the core;
They were just peasants;
Although, they could not read or write,
They kept God above everything:
Attending daily mass;
Reciting Rosary,
And fasting quite often;
They told their children
Bible stories and Scriptures
By heart!
Strong faith in Jesus Christ
Was nurtured in Pio
When he was only five!
He spoke to Jesus,
Mother Mary,
And guardian angel,
And suffered temptations
From devils.
When only ten years’ old,
He yearned to be a friar
Of the Capuchin order.
He joined the order
And took the habit
When he was fifteen,
And the name, Pio
After Saint Pius V.
At twenty-three,
He was ordained priest,
And said his first mass,
Four days later.
A month later,
He got the stigmata
Of Jesus Christ;
Unable to bear
The annoyance,
He prayed;
The wounds vanished
For a while.
Pio desired to suffer
Secretly.
Due to illness,
Pio was sent home
But kept his friar life –
Said mass,
And taught at school.
He went to the friary
Of Our Lady of Grace,
And led a holy, simple life.
Ordered to work
In the Italian Medical Corps,
He was unhappy,
But was discharged soon.
Pio grew up in piety;
‘Prepare for battle in the morning;
Purify your soul in the evening;
Pray, hope and don’t worry.’ –
Were his keys to spiritual success.
Pio prayed for the end to the World War;
He saw Christ and got a wound on his side;
It showed his love of God and vice-versa.
In 1918, he saw the wounded Christ
And received the Visible Stigmata:
The five wounds of Jesus Christ
Forever – a gift of God!
The wounds were painful
And bled from time to time.
For fifty years, he bore
The stigmata of Christ!
The blood had an odor of perfume;
He could Prophesy and foretell;
Bilocation was his unique power.
He read the sins of persons
Who came to him to confess.
Padre Pio became famous
So, did the Friary and the Church;
People flocked to see and confess sins;
Pio became very busy;
He’d barely just two hours to sleep!
Spiritual fame brought detractors;
False accusations were leveled;
They tried to curb his work-schedule;
They tried to transfer him afar.
Undeterred, Padre Pio continued;
The ban on Mass was soon reversed;
His faculties were soon restored;
He was also allowed to preach.
More pilgrims flocked to visit him;
He heard their confessions promptly;
Pio started a Medical Center;
A larger Church was constructed.
He’s known now internationally!
With over-work, he became ill;
And bed-ridden in 1968.
He died in the early morning;
As he’d foretold, he lived sick
But died healthy, at 81 yrs’ of age,
on September 23,1968.
With the stigmata,
All healed!
A lakh of people attended
His holy funeral!
His yoke though heavy,
In Christ became easy;
And his burden light,
When borne with faith in Christ.
The crucified Christ
Had chosen the lad
To be a priest,
And make Him glad.
He was declared ‘Blessed’
On May,2,1999,
And Saint, on June 16,2002
Both by Pope John Paul II.
He’d drawn a lot of souls,
Closer to God!
Padre Pio loved to repeat:
‘I’m a poor Franciscan who prays;
Prayer is the best weapon, we have –
A key that opens the Heart of God! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-19-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Days When We Were Young
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The long, long days, with a light and a shade
Like the pearls of a necklace strung,
Like the pearls of a necklace strung?
They are gone, with all our yesterdays --
We seek their like in vain;
But we will shed no tears for them
While the bright todays remain,
While the bright todays remain.
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The homely house in the fat, far away,
Where the love of our childhood clung,
Where the love of our childhood clung?
There is naught to mark that sacred spot,
Save now the beaten loam;
Yet distant altars have we rear'd
In the bless-ed name of home,
In the bless-ed name of home.
Sister! Sister! don't you remember
The days when we were young?
The mates of childhood -- the friend of our youth --
We companion'd and lov'd among,
We companion'd and lov'd among?
Some are wand'ring far, and some in death
Have closed their weary eyes;
But we rejoice in new found friends,
While we weep for broken ties,
While we weep for broken ties.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost My Childhood
Yes i lost my childhood.
And it will never return.
I lost the innocient life
which i used to live.
I lost the fairy dreams
Which helped me for sound sleep.
Yes i lost toy car which i paddled for long.
i remember those fairy tales my mom told me.
I was a small school kid once,
Yes, I lost those moments.
With every day passing i am losing it
And i know it will never return.
Its true that i miss those days
But thats what i can only do.
I wanted to become big
But i was never aware of this hell.
I lost that laugh, i lost that joy.
I want that childhood again
I want to be a boy.
But all i got is a loss of childhood.
poem by James yardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Home, Sweet Home
The childhood home wherein children, we stayed;
The cottage old in which we ate and prayed;
The humble garden, on our own, we laid;
The roof that leaked in rain, though rent was paid!
The tranquil place where parents gave us love;
The wonderful compound, where we worked, ‘wow! ’
The trees and plants that grew by heaven’s grace;
The sun, moon, rain, at which we loved to gaze!
That was the lovely place, in which we lived;
The home we kept quite clean and chores were shared;
Our parents slogged for us and deeply cared;
We sometimes fought although amity ruled!
Our father’s strictness taught us good conduct;
Our mother’s fondness disciplined our mind;
The help we rendered, made us feel the warmth;
Home, sweet home, was great despite some faults!
Home, sweet home, brings memories evergreen;
Comfortable, our mother’s house, had been;
Those days were most pleasant, despite our toil;
We lost our hearts upon that very soil!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Oddball In The Window
The boy sat at the window
Looking out at the other boys
Laughing and playing their games
Enjoying their childhood days
The boy hopes that they will cherish
Those blissful moments of youth
That have been stolen from him
Moments gone forever from his childhood days
He’s not crippled in body or mind
He’s not allowed outside to play
Those boys point and stare at the boy
They call the oddball in the window
His parents have imprisoned him
To wrap him up in cotton love
He is just to much a gift from god
He is their only precious child
The parents say it’s for his own good
He’s such a delicate child
He just sits at the window
Jealous of the children running free
He will never laugh with other children
He will never join in their games
He never smiles in photographs
He’s not enjoying his childhood days
He’s grown up now; still sitting at the window
His parents can’t get him to venture outside
Everyone passing takes time to point and stare
At the man they call
The oddball in the window
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!