Looking Uncomfortable
Why didn't you give me a signal?
Before I opened my mouth.
Did you see the picture of their first grandchild,
Before I did?
'Yes, I did.
But your reaction?
Was really out of line.
If you thought the child,
Looked unusual...
You should not have exclaimed,
The child looked like a baboon.
Wrapped too tightly in that blanket.
Looking uncomfortable.
I thought it myself!
But did I say anything? '
No.
No you did not.
But that comment you made,
About taking your children to the zoo...
This weekend,
Wasn't appropriate either.
'That had nothing to do with it.
I take my children to the zoo every weekend.
In fact...
They know that.
Before you appeared...
That had been the conversation.
And...
We were all going before you showed up.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
One More Weekend
Slippin and slidin like a weasel on the run,
Im lookin good to see you, yeah, and we can have some fun.
One more weekend, one more weekend with you,
One more weekend, one more weekendll do.
Come on down to my ship, honey, ride on deck,
Well fly over the ocean just like you suspect.
One more weekend, one more weekend with you.
One more weekend, one more weekendll do.
Well fly the night away,
Hang out the whole next day,
Things will be okay,
You wait and see.
Well go someplace unknown,
Leave all the children home,
Honey, why not go alone
Just you and me.
Comin and goin like a rabbit in the wood,
Im happy just to see you, yeah, lookin so good.
One more weekend, one more weekend with you,
One more weekend, one more weekendll do (yes, you will!).
Like a needle in a haystack, Im gonna find you yet,
Youre the sweetest gone mama that this boys ever gonna get.
One more weekend, one more weekend with you,
One more weekend, one more weekendll do.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas Remembered
A Christmas Remembered
Day before Christmas it was cold and we walked down
to the harbour to buy a tree and I remember the sea
that slapped against the dock was apple green and foamy.
Mother bought a tree, for next to nothing, since its top
was broken and it looked like a rejected child that waited
for a car to come pick it up and bring it to the orphanage
By putting the tree on top of the dinner table and a star
and a bit of glitter it looked nice in a child’s eye.
Mother was angry we didn’t know way, and went to bed.
We children sat on the floor and ate lukewarm rice pudding
and there was nothing under the tree. Mother got up told
us to dress and we walked to my uncle’s house. At first he
didn’t want to let her in, but when he saw us children he
opened the door. We had plenty to eat although my aunt
had a sour mien. But happy we walked home and thought
we had had a splendid Christmas.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weekend
Friday night and everythings right on the weekend
Crazy clothes and anything goes on the weekend
John called in and jim got sue
I made a date with a little ol jew
Off he went to make a date on the weekend
No harm done, just having some fun on the weekend
Cartop down, just a ridin around on the weekend
Took a ride to lookout hill
The view up there was sure a thrill
That was all, we had a big fall on the weekend
There we were just sitting cool and cozy
I just had time to steal a little kiss
A police with a flashlight tried to nose in
He said, holy mackerel there, what is all this?
No harm done just having some fun on the weekend
Took a chance on crashin a dance on the weekend
We were almost inside the place
Then some boy slammed the door in my face
Hey you guys, you gotta wear ties on the weekend
Crazy clothes and anything goes on the weekend
That was all we had a big ball on the weekend
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Teachers
If we looked to our children,
So simple and pure.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn so much more.
If we looked to our children,
We could rise above.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn how to love.
If we looked to our children,
We could find a way to be free.
If we looked to our children,
We could learn how to see.
If we looked to our children,
Without being so stern.
If we looked to our children,
How much we could learn.
poem by Cindy Kocsis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When my mother was dying in the hospital, he thought, when she knew her end was coming, it was not me she looked to but someone who stood behind me: her mother or the ghost of her mother. To me she was a woman but to herself she was still a child calling to her mother to hold her hand and help her. And her own mother, in the secret life we do not see, was a child too. I come from a line of children without end.
quote by J.M. Coetzee
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Weekend Fatherhood
Out of all of life's raw deals
Weekend fatherhood is the rawest
48 hours to undo 5 days of propaganda
'I do love you, no matter what your mother says'
Try to do the impossible, squeeze 7 days of love, caring and fatherhood into 2 measly days
Days that fly by faster than the speed of light
No sooner do you pick them up, it's time to take them home
Weekend fathers, you see them everywhere
They're easy to spot by the attention they pay to their children
Their smiles and laughter, tears they so bravely try to hide
After bringing their children back to their mothers
The malls are full of this special breed of man
Buying their children anything and everything
Especially if they say 'Mom won't let us have this' 'Keep it at my house, and don't tell your mom'
From Monday 9AM to Friday 5PM
You're just a man, one of millions, nothing special
But 6PM Friday you become a father again, picking up your children and taking them for the weekend
And if you're one of the lucky ones
Their Mother, your ex-wife
Won't take your children and move away
Halfway across the country
And your weekends along with them
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seven Day Weekend
See the girl in the cabriolet
Im gonna make her mine someday
The traffic stops and she steps out
Every man starts to scream and shout
Theres a space in the week
Its a date I can keep, oh yeah
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
See the girl in the pale peach dress
Shes got a body build to caress
Like a one-eyed cat
Outside a seafood store
Shes got me begging
More, more, more
Ive been saving and saving
And saving my money
To spend it on her
* seven day, seven day, seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
(* repeat)
Seven day (saturday)
Seven day (every day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
Seven day (seven day)
Seven day (seven day) seven day
Its a seven day weekend
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Cried
seeing her child
part from her, the mother cried
she cried hard
for just one more glimpse
of her dear child
ruthless was the society
who didn't accept the mother's child
though the mother loved him loads
despite knowing his illness couldn't be cured
everyone rejected him
no one was ready to accept
though he was one of them
the mother cried and cried loud
yet no one came to help from the huge crowd
her child wasn't different
from the others in line
what made him unique
was just the way people looked at him....
poem by Areena Arora
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mad Gardener's Song
He thought he saw an Elephant,
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
'At length I realise,' he said,
The bitterness of Life!'
He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piece:
He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
'Unless you leave this house,' he said,
'I'll send for the Police!'
He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
'The one thing I regret,' he said,
'Is that it cannot speak!'
He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.
'If this should stay to dine,' he said,
'There won't be much for us!'
He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.
'Were I to swallow this,' he said,
'I should be very ill!'
He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!'
He thought he saw an Albatross
That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
A Penny-Postage Stamp.
'You'd best be getting home,' he said:
'The nights are very damp!'
He thought he saw a Garden-Door
That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
'And all its mystery,' he said,
'Is clear as day to me!'
He thought he saw a Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
'A fact so dread,' he faintly said,
'Extinguishes all hope!'
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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See The Children
(la la la la la la la...)
I stopped the car
The other day
I had to ask a little
Girl the way
I thought she'd show me
Better if she got inside
And once inside
I thought i'd taker her
For a little ride...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time...
I'm a supermarket santa
Underneath the christmas tree
The little one all like to
Come and sit upon my knee
I have to hold them tightly
'cause they fall to the floor
A little concern ain't
Against the law...
So i see the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time
See the children
(something something something??) all the time
I pass by the infant school
Every single day
I push sweeties through the fence
But the kids just run way
I only want to talk with them
And join in their fun
But all the little children do
Is run run run run run run run run...
(la la la la la la, la la la la la la..etc..)
See the children
Feel the children all the time..
See the children
Feel the children
See the children
Feel the children
All the time........
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Innocent Child
I was just a child, an innocent child
I didn't know when, I didn't know how.
I was just a child, an innocent child.
She couldn't save me from what happened,
even though she tried. She always tried.
she was my guardian angel.
I was just a child, an innocent child.
I couldn't be saved then, and I cant be saved now.
The dark angel came over, knocked on my door.
sucked the life out of my family, I was only 5.
I was just a child, and innocent child.
I didn't understand, Where did they go? What happened to mommy and daddy? What happened to sissy? Why didn't they come home last night?
They brought the car to my house, thought someone else would be home, but it was just me, just a little 5 year old..I looked at it... I saw the twists and the turns... the dents and the broken glass.. the scars will always be there.. I see it slamming into a ditch..rolling, rolling, and when it stops.
Silence...
I was just a child, an innocent child.
I didn't understand. how could that happen.. what happened?
I was just an innocent child, the innocent child.
She went away that night.. and she never came back.
poem by Forever Gone
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Columbus
Once upon a time there was an Italian,
And some people thought he was a rapscallion,
But he wasn't offended,
Because other people thought he was splendid,
And he said the world was round,
And everybody made an uncomplimentary sound,
But he went and tried to borrow some money from Ferdinand
But Ferdinand said America was a bird in the bush and he'd rather have a berdinand,
But Columbus' brain was fertile, it wasn't arid,
And he remembered that Ferdinand was married,
And he thought, there is no wife like a misunderstood one,
Because if her husband thinks something is a terrible idea she is bound to think it a good one,
So he perfumed his handkerchief with bay rum and citronella,
And he went to see Isabella,
And he looked wonderful but he had never felt sillier,
And she said, I can't place the face but the aroma is familiar,
And Columbus didn't say a word,
All he said was, I am Columbus, the fifteenth-century Admiral Byrd,
And, just as he thought, her disposition was very malleable,
And she said, Here are my jewels, and she wasn't penurious like Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, she wasn't referring to her children, no, she was referring to her jewels, which were very very valuable,
So Columbus said, Somebody show me the sunset and somebody did and he set sail for it,
And he discovered America and they put him in jail for it,
And the fetters gave him welts,
And they named America after somebody else,
So the sad fate of Columbus ought to be pointed out to every child and every voter,
Because it has a very important moral, which is, Don't be a discoverer, be a promoter.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Of A Parent
They had married at a very young age
At the time they thought it was a game.
They had been together for a long time
and he thought that everything would be fine.
They had lived together for two years or more
And they thought they knew the score.
At seventeen years of age they felt they knew it all
And life was to have a ball.
With part time jobs they paid their bills
Living together was such a thrill.
Not having to worry about a curfew hour
Now ' they had all the power'.
Going out partying every weekend
Not thinking of the money that they spent.
Coming home late at night, being drunk
They would start to fight.
She started feeling some menstruation pain
And from this point on their lives would change.
She went to her doctor to check it out
Pregnant she was - there was no doubt.
Now their eyes opened to the fact
From this point on there was no turning back.
They now had a child on the way
And they could no longer go out to play.
He got a full time job and straightened up his act
And a better position he would have to attack.
He went back to school To get a better education
And to give his wife and child all that he could give
And with both their incomes they would have to live.
She worked for seven months till she
Could work no longer, and to get their house in order.
When she went to the hospital because her time was due
She found out she was having not one but two.
She gave birth to a beautiful boy and girl
He was a diamond and she a pearl.
The most precious babies you'd ever want to see
And he was the proud father - as proud as can be.
They struggled like most couples do
But he was determined to see it through.
She took her children and held them tight
For in their faces she saw their fathers might.
His love so strong for his family
And this is what they all did see.
And the rest is history.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not In The Next Few Chapters
I remember how 'old' people seemed,
When they were in their twenties.
And I was then a child...
With a wish to be a teenager.
And I remember walking on my toes,
Wanting to be taller than I was.
Or at least keep up with my father,
Whenever he walked to the neighborhood store.
And I'd walk behind him,
Thinking he was a giant.
And when I then became thirteen,
And my sister Mimmie was still eleven...
I got very bossy.
We were both 'latchkey' kids and...
Well,
I was grown...
I thought.
And I made sure she did things around our apartment,
I just was too 'grown' to do.
Like sweep the floors while I looked at TV.
She hated me.
I didn't care.
I remember being eighteen and being called a 'rainbow',
As the rest of the enlisted boy/men stood at attention...
After arriving at Lackland Air Force Base,
In San Antonio, Texas.
We were called 'rainbow'
Because we were still in our 'civilian' clothes...
And instantly demeaned.
That was their way of making sure we understood,
We were in the military and mom and daddy weren't around.
We were guaranteed to be made full fledged men.
Thirty came in a hurry.
And I had already been divorced and remarried.
And that was in 1977.
I don't know 'why' I didn't like my 40's!
Maybe because they came and went too quickly.
And I was 'still' passing for the age of twenty-five.
That didn't last too long.
In 1987 I got a phone call from my mother,
Telling me my dad was ill and she was concerned.
So as the eldest and only son,
I thought I would leave San Antonio, Texas...
Where I made my home then,
And make a quick weekend trip back to Hartford, Connecticut.
Well...
One very long weekend later,
It is now close to 2011.
My 40's and 50's were a blur.
And today at 63...
With both my parents deceased,
I am just NOW able to say,
I can enjoy every moment of my life consciously.
And feeling a whole lot younger than I look.
I know this may sound crazy, but...
I've got to relive something that I've missed,
Between my 40's and 50's I can remember...
Other than my parents passing away,
And my getting a divorce.
That was number two.
And...
With God's blessing,
I 'hope' not to do a number three.
Not in the next 'few' chapters I hope to write!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Mary Field French
A dying mother gave to you
Her child a many years ago;
How in your gracious love he grew,
You know, dear, patient heart, you know.
The mother's child you fostered then
Salutes you now and bids you take
These little children of his pen
And love them for the author's sake.
To you I dedicate this book,
And, as you read it line by line,
Upon its faults as kindly look
As you have always looked on mine.
Tardy the offering is and weak;--
Yet were I happy if I knew
These children had the power to speak
My love and gratitude to you.
poem by Eugene Field
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Defiance
The world has captured my attention.
It has smacked me in the face.
I defy the painfulness I see
as it brings so much disgrace.
Children raped by pedophiles,
religion covering it up,
Children dying from lack of food
and water to fill their cup,
Children killed from gangs that roam,
not even safe within their home,
Children, wide-eyed and laced with fear
who face the fact that death is near.
When I was a child I never thought
that children one day would be sold or bought.
I looked at a world that seemed different then.
And now I wonder how, why and when
all of it has become
a planet that tolerates all of this sin?
What kind of a world am I living in?
A 3rd dimensional place gone bad
Are the 5-senses all we've really had?
What about the 6th sense that's been denied?
the spiritual sense from which most hide.
The smack in my face has awakened in me
the fact that there never will be
a 3rd dimension reality
where love and peace and moral obligation
will live in our land or any other nation.
And so I defy these things that I see
and pray for the souls of humanity.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your child your pride, Your grandchild your guide
True
Our children are our pride
They give you
Immense pleasure
With their glowing innocence
And
Such newly discovered expressions
Which you have not experienced earlier
Their growth
Is always showering on you
A sense of satisfaction
Their intelligence
Is always rated by you
To be much higher than
What you possesed in your childhood
Their observations are
Special to you
And you waste not time
In executing corrective or preventive actions
To satisfy their needs
And you do that all with great pleasure
There comes a gap
As they mature
And you are relieved to see
A new childhood again
When your grandchild comes in your life
You see a still higher degree
Of innocence
And intelligence in this generation
You feel your grandchild
Has much greater potential
To achieve than
Your own child, leave alone
The very your own self
As you have gained
Some more maturity
Than what you had when you reared your child
And have crossed
Hurdles with deeper troubles
Your association with the new arrival
Gives you more pleasure
Than what you had with your child
Not only that
With a renewed syllabus
In the study of life
Your grandchild looks a professor to you
Had you seen a teacher in your child
Your grandchild guides you
Through a research project
On this subject
And confers on you a doctorate
Or rejects
Based on your self searching skills
And learning abilities
Your child your pride
Your grandchild your guide
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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