Introduction: More Beasts for Worse Children
The parents of the learned child
(His father and his mother)
Were utterly aghast to note
The facts he would at random quote
On creatures curious, rare, and wild;
And wondering, ask each other:
'An idle little child like this,
How is it that he knows
What years of close analysis
Are powerless to disclose?
Our brains are trained, our books are big,
And yet we always fail
To answer why the Guinea-pig
Is born without a tail.
Or why the Wanderoo should rant
In wild, unmeaning rhymes,
Whereas the Indian Elephant
Will only read The Times.
Perhaps he found a way to slip
Unnoticed to the Zoo,
And gave the Pachyderm a tip,
Or pumped the Wanderoo.
Or even by an artful plan
Deceived our watchful eyes,
And interviewed the Pelican,
Who is extremely wise.'
'Oh! no,' said he, in humble tone,
With shy but conscious look,
'Such facts I never could have known
But for this little book.'
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Related quotes
She Sinful Or Wild
All or nothing at all
her father had said
and it seemed right
until she met Harpoon
and he seemed her
Mr Right the one she
had been waiting for
the one she'd dreamed
about but then it all
went wrong and he
became Mr Wrong
and oh yes that was
the downfall that was
the way to her deep
depression and that
episode in the bath
when she tried to
drown herself as her
mother had before her
and she discovered her
as a child coming home
from school and the
door was ajar and when
she went in there was
her mother with her
wrists slit and blood
and her mother drowned
and dead and now sitting
there in her mother's
chair her father some
place her husband poking
some other and all or
nothing at all seemed all
there was left apart from
the few books on the shelf
the Bill Burroughs her mother
had read and left and that
Bukowski book she'd found
in some second shop and the
battered Bible which her
father had beat her about
the head and backside with
as a child when her father
had been boozing or she
had been sinful or wild.
poem by Terry Collett
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Eyes of a child
Eyes of a child
Such gems in stones
Staring you close
Still as blue sky
They don't lie
Their sun is shining
While you are crying
Eyes of a child
Day or night
I got no light
Free as a child
I can be wild
Eyes of a child
Let them go, into the snow
Without your grace
There's a lot more to know
Just glance over their face
It's the eye of a child
Free and wild
Child don't think too much
Ain't no worry as such
Joy driven life they live
Half-a-soul they give
It's the eyes of a child
Free and wild
Save me child
Save me child
Set me free and wild
Eyes of my child
poem by Siddharth Shah
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The Fiftieth Birthday Of Agassiz. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
It was fifty years ago
In the pleasant month of May,
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud,
A child in its cradle lay.
And Nature, the old nurse, took
The child upon her knee,
Saying: 'Here is a story-book
Thy Father has written for thee.'
'Come, wander with me,' she said,
'Into regions yet untrod;
And read what is still unread
In the manuscripts of God.'
And he wandered away and away
With Nature, the dear old nurse,
Who sang to him night and day
The rhymes of the universe.
And whenever the way seemed long,
Or his heart began to fail,
She would sing a more wonderful song,
Or tell a more marvellous tale.
So she keeps him still a child,
And will not let him go,
Though at times his heart beats wild
For the beautiful Pays de Vaud;
Though at times he hears in his dreams
The Ranz des Vaches of old,
And the rush of mountain streams
From glaciers clear and cold;
And the mother at home says, 'Hark!
For his voice I listen and yearn;
It is growing late and dark,
And my boy does not return!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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To Be A Child Again
To Be a Child Again by Kenny Davis
I see the children of today
Their smiles take me away
To my times as a child
And the games that I would play
To be a child again
Means to be taken to an imaginary place
Where a box could be a house or race car
Or a ship in outer space
To be a child again
Means Mother is God in my eyes
My father is like my hero
Like Superman in the skies
To be a child again
There are many times, I would smile from ear to ear
I would jump into my parent’s loving arms
With nothing left to fear
To be a child again
Full of bedtime stories and fairy tales
Whether it was Jack and the Beanstalk
Or Jack and Jill with their water pails
To be a child again
My life filled with Mother Goose
The tails of Humpty Dumpty
And Green Eggs and Ham from Dr. Seuss
Now that I have grown
I recall my times as a child
So young, so innocent
So reckless and wild
To be a child again
My parents would wipe away every tear
It is all of those tender moments as a child
That I will always hold dear
© June 2009 k.davis
poem by Kenneth Davis
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Wild Montana Skies
This song appears on nine albums, and was first released on the its about time album, and has also been released on the greatest hits vol 3, changes, the very best of john denver (double cd),
Ry classics, the country roads collection and the rocky mountain collection albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert and the best of john denver live albums.
He was born in the bitterroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water headin north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south
Bringin the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
On the eve of his 21st birthday he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an aching in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told a story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was somethin in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
And there was somethin in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Now some say he was crazy and theyre glad that he is gone
But some of us miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Oh montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Dr Freud
Dear Dr Freud
You wanted kill your father
To possess your mother
Your parents wanted to kill you
To possess each other
Dear Dr Freud
When a child is born
It has to face two hired ruffians
One is the child's mother
The child' s father is the other
You call them the agents of Superego
Used with the two goons
The grown up child
Learns to live as long as he can
In a world infested with snakes and tigers wild
Call it socialisation?
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Wild Montana Skies (feat. John Denver)
(John Denver)
He was born in the Bitteroot Valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin'
the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin' when he found his way back home
Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad he's gone
But some of us will miss him and we'll try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Montana Skies
(john denver)
He was born in the bitteroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south, bringin
The first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an achin in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad hes gone
But some of us will miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Mystic Child
It was only the time of the newly born dead
With wispy cobwebs in your head
The polar moon looked out instead
Goin wild
Liquor shifting through the brain
The manic depressive goes insane
Goin wild
Goin wild
Desperate anger hits the streets
By the foul smelling river by the meat market
Goin wild
Mystic child
Goin wild
Mystic child
In the winter with frozen toes
Looking out the big windows
To fly
Goin wild
Situation x out of control
My eyes half opened like a mole
Who smiles
Goin wild
Who smiles
Goin wild
In the mystic morning where the river meets
The hurdy-gurdy of the hip-hop beat
5 a.m. the viscous street
Oh, wild
Goin wild
Out the window like a flash
Fallin through a rooftop crash
Blind
Goin wild
Sick and misty like a pup by the curb
Hes throwin up
Wild
Like a child
Goin wild
Like a child
If he cant have all that relates
To testify that he is great
Hell cut someone with a broken plate
Stand upon the subway grate
And smile
Goin wild
Goin wild
With a smile
Holy morning
Sun is up and someone
Here has lost his cups
The dawn is tattered all cut up
Goin wild
Like a mystic child
Like a mystic child
Sunday morning looking down from the rooftop
Goin wild with a smile
Mystic child
Top of the world hes got it made
Rings are gold, braids are jade
Jumped to the street, hes got it made
Goodbye, child
Goodbye, child
Mystic child
Goin wild
Like a mystic child
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goin wild, ah
Goin wild
Like a mystic child
Holy morning
Sun is up and someone
Going wild
Like a mystic, like a mystic, like a mystic -
- child
Goin-goin, goin-goin wild
Like a mystic child
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh
Jumped to the street
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American Child
I was ten, I was thin,
I was playing first base
With a secondhand glove
And dirt on my face
In nowhere, Virginia
Who'd ever figure that kid in the yard
Would go very far
It was 419 Lakewood ,
had no silverspoons
Just an old beat up upright
that played out of tune
Now I'm singin' and living the life that I love
And when I count my blessings
I thank God I was an American child
An American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild
Born inside an American child
Seven pounds, three ounces,
She's got my nose
And she's into my heart as deep as it goes
With a promise that's more
Than just someone's last name
Anyone's equal, in late August came
An American child
An American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild
Born inside an American child
My grandfather would have been eighty today
But in '45 he fell down beside
An American child
An American child
Oh, an American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild born inside
An American child
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Child
im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and you wont regret
cuz ill bring a party
that youll never forget
they say that im crazy
that ill never calm down
so you better watch out
when i come to your town
dont listen dont care
you cant controle me
if you know whats good for you
just let me be
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and im neva gonna change
im an uncontrolable beast
that you just cant cage
when i was younger they used to
lock me in my room
hoping and praying
that ill calm down soon
they dont understand
that im neva gona stop
i just broke free
somone call a cop
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
im hell on wheels
dont diss it dont play
till you know how it feels!
poem by Helena Dombrowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Question and answer
THE CHILD
Father! Within the forest's bound
No bird I found,
No sound of song the woods around.
THE FATHER
The bird that glad his song us gave,
Flies o'er the wave;
Perhaps he there will find his grave.
THE CHILD
But why does he not wait till later?
THE FATHER
He goes where light and warmth are greater
THE CHILD
Father! It selfish seems to me,
Far off to flee,
When all we others here must be.
THE FATHER
With new-born spring comes new-born song;
By instinct strong
The better new he'll bring erelong.
THE CHILD
But if in death the cold waves swallow-?
THE FATHER
Others will come; his kin will follow.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Child
Ever close your eyes
ever stop and listen
ever feel alive
and you've nothing missing
you don't need a reason
let the day go on and on
Let the rain fall down
everywhere around you
give into it now
let the day surround you
you don't need a reason
let the rain go on and on
What a day
what a day to take to
what a way
what a way
to make it through
what a day
what a day to take to
a wild child
Only take the time
from the helter skelter
every day you find
everything's in kilter
you don't need a reason
let the day go on and on
Every summer sun
every winter evening
every spring to come
every autumn leaving
you don't need a reason
let it all go on and on
What a day
what a day to take to
what a way
what a way
to make it through
what a day
what a day to take to
a wild child
What a day
what a day to take to
What a way
what a way
to make it through
What a day
what a day to take to
a wild child
What a day
what a day to take to
what a way
what a way
to make it through
what a day
what a day to take to
Da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da
what a way
what a way
to make it through
Da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da
What a way
what a way
to make it through
what a day
what a day to take to
a wild child
what a day
what a day to take to
song performed by by Enya from A Day Without Rain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Ruin
(olivia newton-john)
Wash the blood from my hands
Take the pain from my heart
I just cant understand
What it is that we do
Whats the thread running through
The heritage of man
How can I justify to my child what were doing
When I cant explain it myself
And if I close my eyes to the wild silent ruin
Then Im just like everyone else
And I cry for their beauty; I cry for their pain
And I cry that my child may not see them again
Will I leave her a legacy shes being denied
Oh I pray that we will when I kiss her goodbye
How can I justify to my child what were doing
When I cant explain it myself
And if I close my eyes to the wild silent ruin
Then Im just like everyone else
Oh I dream of a time in the future
When we can renurture the damage weve done
For although theres a dark side to all human nature
Our true selves are born in the sun
Our true selves are born in the sun
Please explain to me what we have done
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honey Child
Well, the first time that I met you, You were only seventeen,
But I had to put you down, 'Cause I didn't know where you'd been.
You had a long black dress, Your hair in a mess,
You didn't seem to have no class, But the look on
your face was no disgrace, I knew I had to move real fast.
Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Oh, Honey Child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Well the second time that I met you, You were just turned
twenty-one, An' all your talk about love, Love was gone, long gone.
Oh, Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Yeah, yeah.
Oh, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild, mm.
Honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, yeah, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, oh, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child, now,
Don't you know you drive me wild, Yeah, yeah.
Honey, honey, honey, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Child
It's too late to turn back
When the green lights flash
Too late to turn around
When the love goes down
Your fire my fate
This woman won't wait
So love beam your laser light
Get ready gonna take this flight
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Two hearts one mind
Baby you're my kind
You're too hot you're too much
You've got that personal touch
Push button play thing
Make my back door ring
Fight fire with a little fire baby
You oughta know you make this
little girl sing
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Do your little shake baby
rattle and roll
Ring my bell baby do my soul
Don't let the grass grow under my feet
Bang my drum baby feel my beat
you're so wild
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
song performed by by Heart from Brigade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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