You Have To Decide....
even prophets are pilgrims,
and infidels are priests.
the murderer you sent
to be executed,
is just you in another form.
the child he killed,
is also you....
the drunken father who beat him
mercilessly as a child,
you got it, also you!
the prayer he prayed before he died,
you have to decide!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
What If It Was Your Child
I saw a child yesterday sitting on a corner, tears
streaming down its face, and I stopped to ask
why and the child replied, “no one likes me,
they laugh at me and say I lie, but I don’t lie.”
I walk away after leaving a hug and some words
of encouragement, but as I walked home I said,
“thank God it was not my child.”
Today thousands starved to death because they
had no food. Some ones little girl, some ones
son, but my child ate well.
I turned off the television news and I said, “thank
God it was not my child.”
Every day it seems there is more tragedy, more
horrors, children dying, abused and killed, and it
seems nothing is done to change these things, but
my child is safe, warm and fed.
So when I go to sleep at night I pray and say,
“thank God it was not my child.”
This morning someone screamed at my child and
when I in anger started to reply I thought of Jesus on
the cross, his father watching as he suffered and died
at the hands of the very ones he came to save and I
walked away and prayed, “thank God it was not my
child.”
So my friends the next time you are upset over some
wrong you feel has been done to your child, think of
all the wrongs in the world and should you feel the
need for revenge remember, Jesus could have called
all the angels in Heaven for help but instead he cried,
“father forgive them they know not what they do.”
And God said, ” what if it was your child? ”
Star Of Bethleham
As a child I first met Christ
and prayed a child's prayer.
I grew
in wisdom,
wealth
and worldly ways,
but lost
that child's prayer.
As age infirms
I seek lost youth
in sky above;
and there
I find
that Eastern Star
my child's prayer;
REJOICE.
poem by Thomas Ruth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I was a Child
I was not the one
Who killed my father
I was quite young
When he died.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
They say he loved me
Willed me grow great
He played with me
We sang in the eves.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
We hoped for brightness
And for tomorrow
Then he slumped
To breathe his last.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Dirge for me I pray
Papa lives no longer
Beady salt water drops
From my sockets.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Things happened fast
Leaving me stunned
I racked my brain
I rack it still.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I cling onto mama
Perhaps she'll keep
Will console me well
For days gone by.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I search her eyes
To find some faith
She must stay here
Ever at my side.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
She too escapes
Abandons me quick
I am raw and untaught
I have learned no trade.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
My father's brothers
Like not my face
Gang together, they say
We must squelch him.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
He must not be great
Like his father
How he struts
Like the old block!
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
This chip will be a cyber
If we lag and tarry
Hound him like the jackal
Aim at his blood.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
I run fast and scurrily
I fain would live
Great to be like papa
Greater even than he.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
Now I am a man
I truly can know
I am not too dazed
Even to think.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
poem by Samuel Munachim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father whispers to the child
As the child continues to ignore his spoken words
As if his owner was almost invisible from the corner of his eye
The child shouts – silence” the father then trembles disfigured to heart
He stands crying tears of fury with the spark of love of his child’s naivety.
The child carries on his missions, his father watches him do his thing”
When finally one day the child realizes his insane character, the father then
Ignores his presence..
Appreciate what you have here, now, but not always.
because 'you never know'.
poem by Noorie Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mary from Nazareth
Mary innocent girl from Nazareth
when you went on your knees
standing in front of the God of the universe,
before your marriage already pregnant against the law
did you know that the Godly child that you were carrying
would only depend on His heavenly Father,
that He would be downtrodden by men and despised
without ever complaining about his fate?
With your fear during childbearing with pain circled out wider
did you know that He would bring salvation to the world with pain,
that blows would cleave into his body, with a crown of thorns upon His head,
before nails would pierce his hands and feet mercilessly?
That night right there in the stable
when your gaze fell over the bare circumstances
did you know blessed woman,
that the God of the universe
came to this world only as a mere man,
stripped from his omnipotence without end
to fulfil His mission here as a mortal
without cursing those that were murdering Him?
When you nursed and cared for Him day after day
teaching Him to count on His fingers
did you realise the depth of His love and knowledge
when He told the priests in the temple about God?
Mary from Nazareth, when fear were cutting through your motherly heart
when you saw your darling child suffering,
hanging for the entire world on the cross
did you know that his omnipotent Father was still near?
When His last power dissipated on the cross
were you then estranged from your son
or did you know that He would rise again
to take up His place as the conquering God?
Mary woman from Nazareth did you remember His words,
or did the mourning mangle you too deeply
when your son carried the shame of the world
to know that you could trust His promises?
l’Envoi
When thunder cleaved through the air and fell in darkness
while He died next to a murderer and thief, of sin an image
did you know why a God had to die
that your own child had to prove that God loves selflessly?
or would this realization only later become clear from the words of His followers,
did you know that He would bring salvation to the world with pain,
that blows would cleave into his body, with a crown of thorns upon His head,
before nails would pierce his hands and feet mercilessly?
[After Elisabeth Eybers/Reference: Maria (Mary) by Elisabeth Eybers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For A Child
FOR A CHILD
No worry can be as great
As for a child.
No caring can be as great
As for a child.
For a child.
The world is made
For a child
All good we have is prayed
For a child
For a child
For a child.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer of a Father
our generation of children are going astray
to hung down pants and children
who don’t want to obey
some mothers are there
but there's nothing like having a father’s prayer
one who is concerned and
there who really cares
to recapture our children from the enemy’s snares
a father that doesn’t run
from the responsibility
of having a daughter or a son
a prayer of a father
covers and protects
it’s a spiritual sound covering which doesn’t neglect
whether near or far
a father's prayer
means more than his car
it shows his love
that no matter what
when he kneels in righteous prayer
it’s a sign that echoes
to our Heavenly Father's Chair
our children or crying and
living with an inner-dying
hidden anger, peer-pressure, and
wickedness danger
don't let myspace be your child's
best friend, ipods, and cell phones
can never take the place
of a human loving touch
by a fatherly face
i admonish you to keep the faith
trust God for your child that
he or she doesn't go astray
thank God for the Church
and ministries not are not corrupt
but know this father that your
first call of God is to sponsor
your child without interrupt
Prayer of a Father
'where there is no happiness lean on commitment'
Much Love,
poem by Yolonda Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Nativity
1914-18
The Babe was laid in the Manger
Between the gentle kine --
All safe from cold and danger --
"But it was not so with mine,
(With mine! With mine!)
"Is it well with the child, is it well?"
The waiting mother prayed.
"For I know not how he fell,
And I know not where he is laid."
A Star stood forth in Heaven;
The Watchers ran to see
The Sign of the Promise given --
"But there comes no sign to me.
(To me! To me!)
"My child died in the dark.
Is it well with the child, is it well?
There was none to tend him or mark,
And I know not how he fell."
The Cross was raised on high;
The Mother grieved beside --
"But the Mother saw Him die
And took Him when He died.
(He died! He died!)
"Seemly and undefiled
His burial-place was made --
Is it well, is it well with the child?
For I know not where he is laid."
On the dawning of Easter Day
Comes Mary Magdalene;
But the Stone was rolled away,
And the Body was not within --
(Within! Within!)
"Ah, who will answer my word?
The broken mother prayed.
"They have taken away my Lord,
And I know not where He is laid."
. . . . .
"The Star stands forth in Heaven.
The watchers watch in vain
For Sign of the Promise given
Of peace on Earth again --
(Again! Again!)
"But I know for Whom he fell" --
The steadfast mother smiled,
"Is it well with the child -- is it well?
It is well -- it is well with the child!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
THIS IS OUR WORLD! ! (SHOCKING n EXPLICIT)
Where a child lives in a warm mother's cocoon
Where a child is sold to the prostitutes, her life doomed
Where a father fiercely protects his child
Yet another father enters another's child
Where children play without any fear
Where men enter boys through the rear
Where a child gets a new toy every day
Where a child becomes a toy near the bay
Where a child is whooped up and twirled
Where a child is forced down and hurled
Where they go to fancy schools, sing and play
Where for a single meal, they sweat and labour all day
poem by Renu Rakheja
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Promised
what,
Is it to say-what i am going to say?
I don't know.
But
the died dreams
will not wish canan lands,
blood of the child,
who doesn't know-
who are you,
and who he was him self.
Ever-It is their plight,
to be cruzified.
Since the god
decided to throw them
to deserts.
But that old truth,
older than the holly lands,
older than books,
and the prophets.
Our father,
my, your, and their-
his seeds on two wombs,
brother-we are one,
Think before you take the gun,
and before the cries of
innocent childen.
Before you fight for your religion/nation.
your brother is
killed by your arms,
she is your sister,
who begged to her child.
You may be jew,
you may be muslim,
or christian,
but you are killing your own blood for centuries.
For what?
Which god told you-
that this is for the faith?
He didn't called us
Jew, muslim or christian.
Dear my brother,
shall we stop?
For our children,
for their dream to live.
poem by Muhammad Mirash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every Child!
the faces of...
every child who'll
go to bed hungry tonite...
every child afraid to sleep
for fear of the soldiers,
the bullets, the bombs....
every child abused
by his parents...
every child humiliated
for being different.
every child who's never
known his own father...
every child with no hope
for an education...
every child sleeping
in homeless cars.
every child alone,
lonely, without love.
every child of every broken home,
every child, every color, every country...
staring at me this sleepless night,
tearing at my heart...
all my children!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My father was predisposed to drunken rages. I would hide under the bed. My sister and I were talking just the other day about the terror a drunken man in a rage can create in a child.
quote by Antonio Villaraigosa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Age Had Killed The Child
Age had killed the child,
but I the adult was uncorrupted,
somewhere I had lost something pure,
while the child was killed slowly;
rebellion I could inherit from the child.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Wasnt His Child
(written by skip ewing)
He was her man, she was his wife
And late one winter night
He knelt by her
As she gave birth
But it wasnt his child,
It wasnt his child
Yet still he took him as his own
And as he watched him grow
It brought him joy
But it wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
But like a father he was strong and kind
And I believe he did his best
It wasnt easy for him
But he did all could
His son was different from the rest
It wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
And when the boy became a man
He took his fathers hand
And soon the world
Would all know why
It wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
But like a father he was strong and kind
And I believe he did his best
It wasnt easy for him
But he did all could
He grew up with his hands in wood
And he died with his hands in wood
He was gods child,
He was gods child
He was her man
She was his wife
And late one night
He knelt by her
As she gave birth
But it wasnt his child
It was gods child
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Religious Family
Sisters and brothers are one of those precious members
In the family. Their role is infinite.
They shock themselves with delight.
They read signs and play with them.
Their signs are obvious,
Useful to the parents,
Forcing action of the family.
Heaven can arrive around the bend,
When the families die and their hell is dismissed by God.
Mothers shall look forward to heaven, and their husbands
Are found too in heaven, or shall I say Paradise.
“My son is big at religion, ” says the father to his child.
For this prayer to be answered, the boy must be big, an adult.
His life at the moment has laws broken, the lawful one is not him.
For he is criminal in his action, in his life and love.
He spent a time with another person, and did not get married.
He did not like this now, and not seven times a week.
He must pray and be forgiven, would say God.
God loves the boy’s father, however, and thus the boy is forgiven
For he is big at religion.
The father has his prayer answered.
Afterwards, the father cries for his child as he has lost him to the elements.
The story is such that it makes us cry, and cry and cry.
To find the mother, we must find the father and his prayer.
We find she is forced to marry someone else
But the daughter is forced to object, due to her religion.
The daughter is confused and wants to know why this happens.
The mother blames the divorce on her son who adventured and died.
The father’s prayer was answered but his wife went astray,
and his daughter was too big at religion.
The daughter shall grow and grow to be a happy woman.
Both parents died due to cancer.
It means the average family would die in the ways of religion,
And not religion die in the ways of family.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dead Boys Poem
The child sits and weeps,
How could this be all that matters,
Why did this have to hurt so deep,
How could this be life?
The child sits with the pain inside,
He sits with his heart in his chest,
‘How could I have died? ’
Is all he thinks, he forgets the rest.
The child’s eyes closed so tight,
His fists clenched so strong
He feels the night,
He knows everything that happened was wrong.
The child stands and looks into the houses light
He stares at not the window,
Not at the sight,
Yet only for the weeping widow.
The child stands holding the gun,
The gun he died holding,
As he remembers his father killing him, his only son
He remembers his father scolding.
He knows he took a life,
Yet he knows his father took his,
He remembers not the taking of his father’s life,
Only the pain of his father stealing his.
His eyes so dark,
His mind so lost,
His hand tracing deaths mark,
As he remembers it’s cost.
He remembers the scene, the time,
He remembers the look in his father’s face,
He remembers doing the crime,
He remembers seeing the pain in his father’s face.
But then his memory stops,
And reality takes place,
For this is when he dropped,
This is when life left his face.
He walks past,
To eternity; to roam
Of all his memories this shall be his last
For this is the dead boy’s poem.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Crys
Crys are various and many-to list, it would go like this: -
The cry of a newborn just come from Heaven
The cry of the mother's joy knowing her child is born well
She holds her child to her breast to let it know that she loves the child
The cry of the father's joy holding the child in his arms
The father kissing the child on its forehead so the child can feel its father
The cry of the wolf in the woods gathering the pack together
The bleat of a mother sheep after giving birth to her child
The cry of a young boy who fell on the ice while ice skating
He had hurt himself quite badly
The cry of a little girl who fell and scraped her knee
Of all the crys in the world these are just a few
April 25,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meaning Of A Child
MEANING OF A CHILD
My mind boggles,
When someone calls me,
You are still a child,
Or you are still child like,
Wordsworthian concept is
Child is the father of man
Child is more innocent and honest,
Than all,
He is more near to Almighty
Than others,
He is true servant of humanity
poem by Dr. Ram Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!