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
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Related quotes
Be a child-parent-adult
To the child, it is a day.
To the parent, it is a night.
To the adult both are inclusive.
The child lives in fantasy.
The parent lives in fallacy.
It is the adult that lives,
Where he is put, in ecstasy.
The child admires things.
The parent criticizes them.
The adult realizes them.
The child appreciates.
The parent deprecates.
The adult rationalizes.
The poet is the child in man.
The priest is the parent in man.
The logician is the adult in man.
Live a child to be youthful.
Live a parent to be awesome.
Live an adult to be credible.
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An adult is still a child
A child imitates its mother with air.
An adult imitates models to seem fair.
A child imagines a child in a doll
And enjoys tending it with fantasy.
An adult imagines some ones in his
And experience bliss in fantasy.
A child fears and pretends ignorance.
An adult dreads and pretends innocence.
Though old, still a child, I amuse myself
Though wise, still a child, I fool myself.
12.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Social Studies- Jesus' Birth
Mary was blessed with a child,
The child whose kicking is so wild
but this child is not wicked nor evil
With this child our Future is grat,
and every child, and every adult
Shall one day be saved
poem by Melinda Sordini
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Yesterday's Child
Yesterday's child
I remember so well.
So young, full of hope
of good things they tell.
Yesterday's child
future of life.
Free from the pain
of discord and strife.
Yesterday's child
innocent gift
running free and wild,
mind adrift.
Yesterday's child
soft and pure.
If I wonder away
you're loves' great lure.
Yesterday's child
an adult today
neither soft nor pure
but gone a stray.
What has possessed our hearts so cruel?
Once a perfect child
is now a perfect fool.
poem by S.W. Clark
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Gender determination
‘Is this a man or a woman? ’
asked a child the other,
pointing to a nude picture.
‘How can I, no dress? ’
answered the other child.
‘Is this a male or a female? ’
asked an adult the other,
pointing to a clothed child.
‘How can I, it’s dressed.”
Answered the other adult.
Child decides by clothes.
Adult confirms without cloth
01.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Broken Child
A broken child hides at night.
A broken child cries in fright.
A broken child hides the bruise.
A broken child is pushed and refused.
A broken child always with heartache.
A broken child who cannot fake.
A broken child who has no treasure.
A broken child used for sinful pleasure.
A broken child is so scared.
A broken child has no faith to bare.
A broken child lost in dispair.
I am the broken child, the one that no one cares.
poem by Haley Brown
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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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
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I am o.k. you are o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘Don’t worry, I shall get you one’
A child like question
And an expected parental reply.
I am o.k., you are o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘I know you will do only that’
Parent reply belied the question.
I am o.k. You are not o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘You can borrow from me’
A child-like question.
An adult like answer.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Is the bus late?
‘Which bus comes in time?
An adult seeking an adult
But received a parent reply.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘Is the bus late? ’
‘Yes, heard only ten minutes’
Both responded as adults.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘Yes, let me hide first’
A child sought from a child
And received it.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘No, this is not the time’
The reply is parental
And belied the question.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘Yes. Then we should read’
A child and an adult reaction
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘You should not smoke’
‘Yes. I shall cut it’
A parental question.
An adult reply.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘You should not smoke’
‘First, you cut your chewing’
A parental question
Seeking a child answer
But was belied.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘She should be taught a lesson’
‘ Yes, otherwise she will worsen’
A parent seeking a parent and got.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘I love you.’
‘I can’t forget you.’
Both are adult,
Expecting and receiving
As adults. I and you are o.k.
‘I love you’
‘Shh.. Others may watch”
A child’s reply to a child
Both are o.k.
‘I love you’
‘Bitch! Go to hell; I’ll report’
A parental reply, instead.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘I love you.’
‘I think you misunderstood.’
Both behaved as adults.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
You be the way you are expected.
You are then o.k. to others.
When others fail to be the way
You expected, you reason for it.
Others will be o.k. to you.
Then where is the individuality?
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
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Broken child
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has seen more than his young eyes should.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who would run away from it all if he could.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has been ravished by the likes of you and I.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child with to much pride to cry.
I see the face off a broken child.
a child who fights off anyone who cares.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wishes his mother was there.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wont let his hardships keep him down.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who refuses to give up and reveal a frown.
poem by Joshua Reid
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Monday's Child is Ill
Monday's child is ill, I'm told.
Tuesday's child has caught a cold.
Wednesday's child is down with the flu.
Thursday's child is feeling blue.
Friday's child can't eat any food.
Saturday's child is in a foul mood.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is the only child that feels okay.
poem by Bruce Larkin
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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? ”
Waiting For My Child
I am waiting for my child to come
Home today from school
And I will be sad when the day comes
That my child will be one adult
Because my child won't live home anymore
And I will be left all alone
But for my child it will be the happiest time in his life
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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
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A Child Not Forgotten
A child as a mother
You know in your heart
Not likely they'll make it
One's damned from the start
A child born too early
and there's not a sound
You pray for a miracle
then slowly break down
A child with no name
and future so bleak
not here to hold on to
was to tiny and weak
A child not forgotten
tho you need to say bye
to the one that you lost
but still makes your heart cry
poem by Bonnie Harding
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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
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Just Another Black Child In The Ghetto
Cerdic a 7 year old boy got killed last night
but no one seems to care he is just another black child in the ghetto.
Janet 6 she got raped by one of the men her mom had her call uncle
but once again nobody cares just another black child in the ghetto.
Ahmid, can barely read and write and he's 13
but you know who cares he's just another black child in the ghetto.
Cyndi about to be a mother and she just a child of 15 herself
but she'll blend in with the others just another black child in the ghetto.
It is time for us to pay attention to the Cedric's, Janet's, Ahmid's and Cyndi’s so the children know of the ghetto that they are more than just another black child in the ghetto.
Heartless World
She was lying
Bleeding and crying
She lost her little son
In a car accident
A luxury car with a beautiful woman
Killed the innocent child
Of this poor homeless woman
A white cute dog was
Peeping out the car
And
I was standing like a lifeless beast
Nearby the dead child
And, trying to get
The difference of destiny
Between the cute dog, and
The dead little child
Nobody came to
The crying mother
With a word of sympathy
For
This is a selfish and
heartless world.
poem by Dr. P. K. Verma
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