Related quotes: My mother would have my...

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Your Assessment Pleases

If I had no embedded indoctrinations,
Or a thumb to suck when I was young.
Would I be as stunned to discover,
Those unaccustomed to living in the projects...
Had less dysfunctions,
Than the ones I was 'told' I had?

Especially when I grew up in a time,
When all my neighbors kept their doors opened.
And parents disciplined not only their children,
But any child within their reach.

And those who lived in suburbs then,
Would pretend they did not sit on toilets.
And I often wondered about that.
Since my mom would often say...
'Just be 'you'.
Let others folks think they have silver spoons in their mouths.
And walk around with their butts on their shoulders.'

For a very long time I looked for this.
I wanted my mother's visions to be validated.

~Ma?
May I ask you a question? ~

'What is it now...
Larry? '

~Check this out.
I've been looking all around for folks,
With silver spoons in their mouths.
And butts on their shoulders.
I walked all over too!
Where did you see this? ~

'Boy?
Something is wrong with you! '

My mother had her way of telling my sisters and I...
We were 'different' children.

And I think about my childhood every now and then.
Wondering about all of those 'fortunate' and well dressed children.
Living in the suburbs.
And why they seem to have more problems then we had?
And why those 'kids' now with children...
Can't seem to hold themselves accountable,
For allowing the world to get sooo
Crazed!

'Boy?
Something is wrong with you! '

~Thank you, Ma!
I 'think' I know what you mean.~

'That's good to hear.
Now prove it by leaving me alone,
And go outside to play...
Like you're a 'normal' child.*

~Again...
Your assessment pleases.~

*Boy, if you don't get outta my face! *

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prayers of parents make a peaceful heaven to a home

Prayers of parents make a peaceful heaven to a home
The children who neglect their parents will be cursed,
The Nature makes such children’s house a hellish dome,
They are lucky children who are blessed by their parents,
It is said that there is a heaven under the legs of mother,
The children love or not to their mother but she loves all,
She embraces good or bad children but she can’t smother,
Mother is habituated to pray to God for all their happiness,
A few children won’t love their parents but love their wives,
In old age parents are in need of only their children’s love,
Who devote God, adore parents will be happy in their lives,
Love of parents always comes to children from the sky above,
God bless those children who are blessed by their parents,
And God curse those children who are cursed by their parents.

poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The 'Weird' Child

I was the 'weird' child.
You know...
The odd one out!
The one with chores and responsibilities.
The one all the kids would laughed at,
When I had to stay home...
Sometimes with my sister and I alone.
And told not to answer the door or telephone.
And if we did...
'You'll be sorry for that,
When I get back.'
My mother would say.
In a way that was understood.

And when my mother and father would return...
No excuses were made,
Or jokes told.

If the floor wasn't swept...
A frown I would get from mom.
If I forgot to line the garbage can with newspaper.
I was told to empty it.
Wash it quick...
And do it without a sound.
And I was grounded,
If I looked as if I wanted to say something about it.
My father 'tried' to be strict.
But my mother handled the 'raising' business.

My mama had us go get a 'switch'.
From a bush.
Strip it.
And whipped us with it.
If we did not do what mama said!

I was the 'weird' child.
Made to feel different then by my peers.
And today I see many of them,
That bring me to tears.

They don't know how to do anything...
But complain!
And when mama would lift up that switch,
Prepared to swing it...
I gritted my teeth.
And I closed my eyes.

But she was the one that ended up crying.
My sister and I would look at each other...
As if to wonder why.

~She whipped us...
And she's crying? ~

'Sssshhh. Shut up! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Play Children Play

I came home late one night,
In my door stood my daughter-in-law,
Park your car, I have something to tell you,
As I entered the door, she said, "Mother left today."

Play children play, your mother left today.

There is no where for a writer to start,
When his wife leaves and breaks her children's heart,
When she walked out, she never said good by,
No one has ever known why.

Play children play, today your Mother went away.

Many things we planned to do that day,
For no reason she just walked away,
Twenty years has past and gone,
Some how we took care of our home,
You children have married, but still alone.

Play children play, for the day your Mother went away.

poem by Kenneth McKinley Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher

Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher
Parents are the builder of children’s characters and minds,
The mother won’t be a fighter but should be a well preacher,
If she is an illiterate she must carry her children to tuition,
Howsoever the mother should educate their children first,
And she should send her children to school daily and regularly,
Teachers are not blamed not to fulfil children’s educational thirst,
Both the parents and teachers should make them the best citizens,
As we can’t work with one hand likewise we can’t walk with one leg,
Hence, parents and teachers are the same faces of the same coin,
If parents and teachers do them careless they suffer in life to beg,
Do well and have well it is said to see your own profit in life or ruin,
That is why parents and teachers are the best artists of the child,
If an art is spoilt the statue of the child looks like an ugly and a wild.

poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Pro-life…

I thank my mother,
Who brought me forth
Into the world,
God made, so bold.

And my dear father,
For doing his worth,
To raise me up,
With love-filled cup.

I admire them
For such strong faith,
And duty-minds -
Both rare are finds.

I was their child eighth,
Of ten children!
God blessed them well;
Their work was swell.

But had they stopped with
Just one or two,
Like how some did:
Oh, God forbid!

What lovely parents
They turned to be,
And lived all life,
Despite much strife

If not for them both
What would I be?
-An abortus
Or dead fetus!

The love of Maker,
Good parents give
To children all,
When they are small

Such children bring them
Blessings from God,
And intense mirth,
Right here on earth.

I thank you parents;
I thank you God,
For gift of birth,
And lovely earth.

Just think of parents
Who do abort,
Against God’s will,
By their weak will.

Their life will be filled
With emptiness;
Their guilt and sins
Makes life non-sense.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother Is Dying: Part 2 (Filicide)

Mother is infuriated
Mother is irritated
Mother is agitated
Mother is aggravated

Tormented by Her children
Sickened by Her children
Scarred by Her children
She is beginning to die

Mother was gentle
Mother was accepting
Mother was enduring
Though mother is now corrupted,
Similar to Her children

Her anger boils from her very core
Swirling vortexes of hatred dominate the skies
Her loathe floods Her children’s lives
The incarnate of Her disgust with Her children
Is devastating and cataclysmic

Her children can no longer find
Sanctuary from mother’s mercy

Mother is too enraged to rationalize
Mother will create The Rapture.
Mother will cause The Apocalypse.
Mother will eliminate humanity.
Mother will commit filicide.

poem by Alex Gomez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Mother Does Not

A mother does not raise her child for to fight and die in war
Or to kill another Human Being in a Country from home far
That her son or her daughter should at someone else shoot to kill
A person they have never known or who have never bore them ill.

Picasso's 'Screaming Woman' is for all woman kind
The mother weeps for her dead child with grief 'out of her mind'
Mothers do not raise their children for to be remembered on War Memorial Day
For to fight in war for war mongering non combatants and throw their lives away

A mother raises her son or daughter so her seed of life will live on
That her genes will still be around when she herself has gone
From the World of the living to be numbered amongst the dead
I wish for my children to outlive me that's what the mother said.

A mother does not raise her child for to meet with an early death
Not for her War Memorial Day or the words 'Lest we forget'
She wants her son and daughter for to grow old and gray
And she does not wish to hear of War and War Memorial Day.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Random things about my Mother

My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue

My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake

My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane

My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine

My mother who knew
No contentment in living

My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two

My mother who it is true
Stopped living long before she died

My mother from whose mouth flew
Words of disappointment and fury

My mother whose lips
Tasted bitter tears

My mother sat impatiently
In sorrow through her years

My mother who like Kunta Kinte
Was tamed by Diabets

My mother who was tamed
By my father

My mother who was captured by my father

My mother who fought with my father
The two them struggling false teeth piercing each others flesh

My mother who my father told to go and cook the mint

My mother who would beat us and cause wounds and bruises to our skin

My mother who love to walk about

My mother who gave a toe
A day away

My mother who kiked with her stump of a leg after she lost her foot

My mother who was a great dresser

My mother who could sing
Sang on the church choir

My mother who would be at the front of the church earliest every Saturday
My mother who insisted I be baptized and save by the holy ghost

My mother had beautiful handwriting
My mother who had nine children for five different men

My mother who tried to settle down with my father

My mother who could never swim

My mother who loved to sing

My mother who would tie us up on leashes and take us for long walks through the town

My mother who sought out hand me-downs – for our clothing

My mother who was active in the Welfare Society at church so she could cream the crop for her family

My mother who instigated many a conflicts with her numerous friend was left with only a few in the end.

My mother whom I so wanted to help evolve

My mother who I helped to live

My mother who I had to let die

My mother who lives in me

poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lips Spilling With Disrespect

Grateful today I am not to be raising children.
By anyone's definition,
Of just how old those children grow to be.

And today many are raising children,
Who have skipped lessons taught in their childhood...
With a missing of a switch.
To be in their 30's...
With a lot that has been missed.

I did have a son, Michael...
Who many years passed away.
And I cringe at the thought,
Of what today he, Michael, to me would say.

Lips spilling with disrespect,
From the mouths of these children...
Who are quick to express how they are upset,
Would motivate me to the first policeman I'd see.
To request my immediate arrest from their mess.

'Put the handcuffs on me, please!
Someone dear to me is about to bleed.
And I pay my taxes.
So there is no need to question me.
Put the handcuffs on me, please!
And if you can do this immediately...
So happy I would be! '

I am just not the one,
To throw up my hands to say...
What has been done is done.
Oh no!
Out the door someone has to go.
And since I am paying the bills...
Someone other than me,
Is going to feel that chill.

I am the one I am sure would be confined.
Because no child of mine...
Is going to fill my ears with their nonsense.
And 'if' that should happen...
It will be a long time before they awaken,
From an unconsciousness achieved...
By an asking for 'it'.

'I have no idea what happened to him, officer.
He made a request.
And I delivered.
He requested a taste of fist.
What could I do but to deliver it.'

And that is why today,
I don't guess or wonder why...
I am blessed.
I know this without a doubt,
That's why I enjoy my peace with no regrets.
None at all to figure out!

Oh no!
I am the one I am sure would be confined.
That's why I know,
All blessings I have received,
I have earned every one and know they are mine.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Like No Other...Mother

Mother...

Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.

Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.

Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother...

Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.

Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother...This ones' For You...

Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.

Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

R.I.P: Mom's Death Anniversary,2012

This day, my mother died, two years ago;
It was not shocking as she was too old;
Yet, we could not get over her demise;
Her life and death were holy on the whole!

She lived for Christ and did her duties well;
Her example was worth emulating;
But it was hard to know she was no more;
God gave her happy days until the end!

A mom like her is rare indeed to find;
The way she went about her chores was great;
She prayed a lot whenever she found time;
She trained her children all to be like her!

A cheerful lady always to the core;
Despite her woes, she encouraged others;
In charity, she drew a lot of bliss;
God was foremost in life on earth throughout!

A lovely mother, world could envy much;
A heart of love that swathed the neighbourhood;
A soul that did her many roles with love;
A lady with a remarkable verve!

Until her last, she was not bed-ridden;
All through her life, she tried consoling all;
She toiled incessantly for sake of Christ;
She took her cross and followed Him all life!

A glorious figure, children rarely see!
A mother unforgettable, beloved;
A friend and teacher to her children born;
A voice that guided children to heaven!

May God bless her with eternity soon!
May God reward her ably for her deeds!
May God help her children follow her ways!
May God unite us all some day again!

Fondly dedicated tribute to our beloved mother,
By all her children living today 27-04-2012
Copyright by Dr John Celes 27-04-12

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia®.ro

To Be Free of Not Having Children

Related quotes

When She Played It Was On Her Piano

Today...The Kids Make The Demands

Your Assessment Pleases

Direct and Indirectly

Prayers of parents make a peaceful heaven to a home

The 'Weird' Child

Play Children Play

Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?

Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher

Pro-life…

Mother Is Dying: Part 2 (Filicide)

A Mother Does Not

Random things about my Mother

Missing Link

Children?

Lips Spilling With Disrespect

Like No Other...Mother

Mother...

Mother...This ones' For You...

R.I.P: Mom's Death Anniversary,2012

En.Citatepedia^®.ro