Direct and Indirectly
Direct and indirectly...
God has blessed me!
Not to have a child to have lived.
And I am today pleased with that.
And I am being extremely positive.
No one on this Earth,
Would tell me how to raise my kids.
Or suggest that I read,
How someone else believes...
That should be done!
I would spare that rod.
And use one thick belt!
If my child spoke back to me...
A behind would be whipped.
Burning hot!
Preventing him or her to sit!
'Go to your room! '
Would not come from my lips.
'Get out of my house...! '
And that would be it!
911?
They could call it if they wish.
And that child of mine should call...
They better disappear.
Or they will never again exist!
I am not going to be disrespected,
By someone I support!
Or be cussed out in public.
Like I hear some children,
To their parents exhort.
I don't think so!
'Excuse me...
May I use your PA system for a moment?
Thank you!
ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
There is a child needing immediate medical assistance.
Will someone please call the police and an ambulance!
I will be in either produce or Aisle 17.
I have shopping to finish.
I thank you for your patience! '
My children will be disciplined.
Respectful of others.
And not a selfish bone will they have in their bodies.
Free they will be of lies and deceit.
I will not be busting my ass...
To weed my flowers of crabgrass.
And God knew!
~But 'why' would you break your son's nose,
Mister Pertillar? ~
*You see those braces on his teeth?
They cost me a fortune.
His nose will heal and I will probably go to jail.
Far less expensive of a price to pay.
But this 'kid' is in his 20's.
And 'he'...
Not 'you'
Reminds me 24/7...
How long 2 minutes of pleasure can aggravate.'
**You told me it was 4 hours! **
*Do you see what I'm saying?
Even with a broken nose,
His mouth is still open! *
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
To Be Free of Not Having Children
My mother would have my sister and I...
As kids,
To go look for a nice sized switch.
Then strip it before she whipped us with it!
And then dared us to cry...
As if we weren't already hurting inside.
Then made us stand up straight,
As if at attention.
Telling us not to roll our eyes.
And not a word she wanted heard mentioned.
One day I did something...
And I chose from my mother to run.
I was stunned she was running right behind me fast.
She snatched me by the neck,
And proceeded to spank my ass!
Disciplined?
My mother played softball,
And my father had been a boxer.
Do you think I have survived all these years...
Trying to out foxed those two.
Knowing what they could do...
And convinced they did well at what they did!
Disciplined?
We were not told twice,
To do something again they said they did not like.
And my father did not have to raise a finger.
All he did was use his eyes.
'Daddy, please! Don't look at me like that! '
But my mother on the other hand,
Commanded well our ship!
Whenever she began to raise her voice...
Mimmie and I knew we were heading for something quick!
And crying we would do first...
Because we knew there was no exit!
I can hear my mother's voice today.
If I had threatened to call 911.
She would hand me the phone and tell me to dial.
And if the police should arrive...
They would discover a missing child.
Both of my parents were extremely humorous.
However...
My mama did not play,
If we did not obey!
In those days when parenting
Was out of the hands of the government!
And although we may have grown up 'slightly' dysfunctional.
Dysfunctions and all...
Today?
We are happy we grew up the way we did.
And if I had children,
Living today as these 'hardhead' children do...
I wouldn't dare them to call 911.
That option?
Not available!
Not if I'm to play poppa.
No!
They wouldn't get a chance to!
And I might be visited as I sat in prison!
But any child of mine...
Would get a rod struck to their behind.
Like lightening...hot and sizzling.
Sparing me the grief that today's parents find.
My children would pay me attention.
And we together would share respect.
Perhaps that's why I live my life blessed.
To be free of not having children!
I could not stand by as they lived lives,
Attracted to standards bathed in degradation.
I'm not 'that' patriotic!
And to live without feeling guilt...
Or in a remorse,
That leaves me in debt AND regret!
I am grateful to be that blessed...
Yes.
I know my limitations.
And I am glad I do not have children,
Insisting to see me pushed to them!
I love my life lived...
Without displaying a rage that drives me crazed,
And confined!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Archaic Can They Be?
Only children not given attention,
Are out of control.
Spare the rod, spoil the child.
That's what I've always been told.
And the evidence of that,
Is not an assumption!
That's a fact.
A child undisciplined,
Will bring grief in the end.
And those doing their research through books,
Are the ones seen tearfully...
Expressing they've done what they thought it took,
To keep their children from becoming...
Liars, criminals and deceiving petty crooks.
How archaic can they be?
Wanting to whipped their children...
Into respectful human beings?
Only children not given attention,
Are out of control.
Spare the rod, spoil the child.
That's what I've always been told.
And still to this very day,
As the industry of incarceration...
Blooms to a boom without a bust,
There are those who are scholars...
Professing they know a way,
How a restoration of values and standards,
Will eliminate division and the onslaught of decay.
AND return the public's trust.
IF...
We all follow 'their' instructions,
Outlined in their bestselling books!
Instilling within us a more educated way...
To properly train our children to become,
The liars, criminals and deceiving petty crooks...
A decadent society has obviously become.
And with a price to pay.
That's the way it looks!
How archaic can they be?
Wanting to whipped their children...
Into respectful human beings?
Only children not given attention,
Are out of control.
Spare the rod, spoil the child.
That's what I've always been told.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?
Which child will care for parents when old-aged?
Which child will show compassion and respect?
Which child will find the time to talk kind words?
Which child reciprocates their affection?
Gone are the days of joint family system!
Gone is the sense of values in people!
Gone are the times when blood was quite thicker!
Gone with the wind is honouring parents!
Have parents not showered love on children?
Have they not slogged to give them life's comforts?
Have they not nursed them whenev'r they fell ill?
Have they not done their duties to their kids?
The world today is selfish to the core;
Children just want the wealth of parents old;
None volunteer to tend to old parents;
Children show scarce love to their parents dear!
What has then come upon children today?
Who should take care of parents, elderly?
Should not one's children take care of parents?
Much love seems lost in families these days!
poem by John Celes
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Children?
Children are the easily led,
Their learning is profound,
Their lift is happy and proud,
Why do parents forgive them?
We produce the fellow children
To lift and uplift each of us
When there happens a life.
Children need growth to boast,
To live and outlive, to death is their journey
After a life of straightforward happiness and bliss.
Felt good? Why children? Because, say Children,
We live among others who are like the mothers
In the land we call Children.
Child after child shall learn of the existing ones
That need admirals and generals of late.
The defence of a child is the greatest concern,
And I laugh at one who destroys life,
Ever in turmoil is a child because of this act.
Children will be enough to be today.
Children can upset no one who is old and ancient,
Selfless students are children.
However much you push and pull at the threads that children weave
And sort, and spread, and sew,
The adult will sew better and more often than a child.
That is the secret, children.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Three children
Three little children.
One with a home.
One sitting on a thrown.
The last child only skin and bones.
One child lives happily with his family.
One child sits alone; his family won’t spare the time
The last child watches his mother die.
One child has a few new toys.
One child has the best toys anyone can imagine.
The last child plays with sticks and stones.
One child attends public school.
One child stays home and studies alone.
The last child has to cook and has never opened a book.
The children become men.
One man is off to war.
One man is sitting behind a jail door.
The last man is very far from poor.
poem by Yvette Carbajal
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What's Your Name?
while walking...
i stopped beneath a tree,
and spoke to a leaf:
'what's your name? '
the leaf paused for a moment,
and spoke,
'you can call me child of the limb,
or child of the tree,
or child of the earth,
or child of the sun and rain...
or you can just call me, Bob!
what's your name? '
i thought for a moment,
and smiled:
'you can just call me...
.....leaf! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Parents Vs Children
Things that i don't understand in this world is that why do some people
get into relationship, getting married, enjoying life and making love.
But when it comes to children or when they already have kids, they
could not accept their responsibilities as parents. They do have
regrets of having kids especially if the kids are naughty, giving problem
or giving them headaches. They always beating, shouting, saying bad words to the kids saying wish you never exist, wish you never been born.
Instead of being calm, giving advice, doing good things which would make their children happy and be proud to have good parents.
Instead of thinking good ideas which would make them close to each other
.
Child is a child, they need more time with their parents. They need
attention, care, and love. Children are curious to everything, they need
to know antyhing as part of growing up. They need the guidance of
parents, but what I see nowadays is different. Parents just give material things to show their love for their kids.
Some parents just go out to parties, shopping, prefer to hang out with their friends rather than their kids. Then they just leave the children
to the nannies/babysitter.
Parents make their children be far from them instead children to get
close to the nannies who always there for them and give the love to the children. Parents must be a role model for the children, but what i see
now is that children do as what their parents do, they become more liberated.
There are also some parents who give up for their children. Some choose their own happiness, they don't like to stay at home with their kids. especially if thier husband dont have time for them too. the tendency, both couple would have a problem that result to divorce.
Where is the love that they shared? where is the promises and vows they had?
poem by Judith Kempis
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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
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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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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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Personal Attention
Personal attention
a gifted child leads
Personal attention
an average child needs
Personal attention
at risk child pleads
Personal attention
an autistic child deeds
Personal attention
a parent plants the seeds
Personal attention
is what every child needs
Thus..Personal attention
is what every teacher heeds
poem by Robert John Meehan
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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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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.
If We All Were Like Children
Once there came a child approaching a gentle brook,
Dipping his hands into the water, a small fish he took.
It wiggled, and squirmed, freedom it did seek,
It made the child laugh, and squeak.
Then playing opossum it lay still, and pretended was no more,
the child lay the fish upon the rocky shore.
The fish knowing it was almost free,
flipped up in the air with child like glee.
The child tried to grab it back up,
but the fish very quickly kept flipping up.
It hit the water, and off it did swim,
the child shrugged his shoulders, and gave up on him.
Attention being short, the child saw a bug,
ran off to catch it, and give it a hug.
If everyone were in their hearts like children we see,
then the Earth would be Heaven, and life would be free.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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Today...The Kids Make The Demands
I am not going to say,
One of my three sisters and I...
Were model children growing up.
Although we were told,
We had faces of angels.
And upon hearing those say this,
My mother would smile knowing...
Angels? No!
Whenever my mother disciplined us,
She would describe in detail...
What was about to happen.
And 'then' sent us out looking for a good 'switch'.
Meaning? Pick a nice twig off of a bush outside.
Clean it of its leaves...
And bring it to her to inspect before she whipped us,
For not doing what we were told to do in the first place.
Confusing but so effective!
I agree,
There were moments of contradictions and dysfunctions...
When applying my mother's punishments to our misdeeds,
However...
We did not question or argue.
AND 'if' I should raise my eyebrow as if to disagree...
Just the doing of it would deliver that switch to my behind.
My mother did not play when she told us to do as she said.
The only thing that bothered me was her crying after whipping us.
Today...
The kids make the demands.
And not a tear to dropp from their eyes.
Today...
Kids will call 911 to report child abuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Another clown
the clown with red nose
the clown with green ears
the clown with yellow cheeks
the clown with webbed feet
the children don’t like the clowns
all clowns
all the children are scared by all clowns
the child with orange hairs
the child with blue eyes
the child with pink smiles
the child with wide eyes
the clown don’t like the children
all children
all the clowns want to kill all children
the clown get back at home
He shouts: I hate the children
then he eats the soup of day
quietly smiling
the child get back at home
He shouts: I hate the clowns
then he eats the soup of day
quietly smiling
But the worst is forthcoming:
one child among one million
will become a clown
Me I am not a child
I am not a clown and
I do not like the soup
luckily
all sad stories have an end
and here I write a full stop
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Patience Given
Patience given,
To those dealing with their insecurities...
Have several exceptions!
Patience given to a child,
Learning when and how to use a toilet.
Patience given to a child,
Going to school for the first time.
Patience given to a child,
Learning how to share.
Patience given to a child,
When left with a babysitter.
Patience given to a child,
When learning the difference...
Between telling a lie and being honest.
Patience given to a child,
When being taught to be responsible.
Patience given,
To those dealing with their insecurities...
Have several exceptions!
Extenuating exceptions beyond the call of reason,
Requires one to ignore with an ability...
That preserves a peace of mind one wishes,
To keep and maintain undisturbed...
By those who are,
Disturbed by their expectations to be exceptions...
To the rule.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Child
this is our child.
not just yours or mine
but everyones, that are born in our time.
a child is born every minute around this world
beautiful boys and girls.
these children are gifts from god.
and he has chosen you to be the one
who will carry the daughter or son
look into any childs face and you will see
that they belong to you and me.
the child has a bit of all humanity
this is the way god meant it to be.
these are the children of peace
the children of love
given to us from god above.
.
i read in the papers of childrens lives taken
because of anger, fear, sickness and hate.
lets stop them before it too late
put them in jail and throw away the key.
just so that children can sleep peacefully.
if as a child you was abused, neglected, and not loved
then it's time for you to change your life around
and not let these children die on the ground.
stand up and fight, and take
pride in what you do.
the child you save, could have been you.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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