Karmic Debt
To be treated with disdain,
Is this the bane
Of parents
Of this generation?
Please don’t have
Any expectations
Of me,
As I have a family
Of my own,
Is the constant refrain.
The silent cry,
Pain and disgust
Over such callousness,
Too overwhelming to discuss.
Overcome with regret,
Over a life time spent
On putting them first,
Is this just?
Don’t cry
Over those who could not
Care less,
Shrug it off
As a Karmic debt.
Judge not,
Just get on with
Your own life.
Nothing escapes God’s eyes.
Written after reading the plight of senior citizens, left alone in their twilight years
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
Things happen is life that we must always be ready for!
You know how are parents are always trying to say that there just preparing us for the real world, well be thankful things happen they’ve been through it if not everything. Something’s in life you must prepare for and see it in a new way for me, I see life as a book life like a book and not just an ordinary one it’s one of those that you must take your time reading. Otherwise you’ll miss something really important there’s always a detail or something to learn, but as you turn the page in your mind you say oh or yeah like your understanding or likeness. Unfortunately some people never get to there story weather it is by accident or purpose, and as friends and family or just associates we all have to be ready for life. Sometimes life can end in a heartbeat or prolonged suffering I say to you never underestimate the person next to you, cause they could be going through a lot more than yourself. Sometimes the smartest guys is only that way because he escapes to a library to get away from his parents, arguing or complain on the things that he or she has no control over which may also apply to the most athletic person. Some of have friends whom we may entrust to hold or secrets and share our pain, others do not I Allen gill jr ask that we as students of Glenville high school don’t just look at him or her but as brother and sister. Let go of this pain and hate for they blind you from the happiness you could have in life. I know sometimes we want to yell and scream but we need to keep converting that energy to something more useful, but sometimes we have to be ready cause here comes that curve ball from life whereas we just explode because people are dumping there problems on us. We try so hard to help them that we forget about ourselves so what im trying to say is be ready for life, just prepare things will happen no ones life is prefect not even for celebrities so don’t just say “oh I’m going to be a celebrity when I graduate” life is so much harder than what we may think the time and effort to make dreams come true comes at such a great cost I ask are you ready to spend the time needed or will you end up on the corner we all have the potential to do so much more with our lives don’t let other people be your fall from fame I ask you to stand up and be you Glenville students and staff.
By Allen gill senior classman and homecoming king candidate
poem by Allen gill
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Karmic Debt
If someone steals from you
and becomes your foe—
There is one thing you should know.
if you seek revenge things could go wrong.
You then have a karmic debt to surely repay
if not in this life then another life faraway.
Hold up to your karmic obligation
for you want to evolve
Better to take the high road
realize this before you get too old.
Written by Christina Sunrise on July 26,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Time Is
In the twilight of our years,
When time in wisdom's dried our tears,
I reach for you, and know ‘tis true,
This life was meant for me and you.
The battles fought, a victory won.
It's not time still for our swan song.
We've soothed away the pain and sorrow,
There's much time still to live tomorrow.
You ask 'could we not have seen much sooner,
That our Karmic journey could have been smoother? '
But time's a space, not a line that's been drawn.
We still have now our own new dawn.
There always is a 'sheet' so pure,
‘Tis not just pain we must endure.
For life is meant to teach us much,
Within joy, sorrow, pain and touch.
And then awakes a brand new dawn,
Once more our lives afresh reborn.
‘Twill always be, can you see how?
Years don't count, time is just now.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Do I Consider Me A Senior? 2nd Version
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive.
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
I am now crossover fifty,
but I am still very nifty!
Is it always too late! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Cold wind knocking on the door,
Old shrivelled man on the floor.
Ashamed, lost control over bladder.
Broken, fell from the ladder.
Who knows its pain or melancholy
Over the absence of progeny.
Overcome with impotent rage
Who said its golden age?
Trembles with loud paroxysms
Why I could have kept a nurse.
With the hard earned money spent
On raising kids; late to repent.
Spent, looked up shocked
Spouse watching with a stoic look
The shelves filled with favourite books
He loved reading to his kids and quote.
No health, wealth, poor eyesight.
Lessons ignored on hindsight…
His son had brought a gift,
A book' Tuesday with Morrie.'
He recalled the last message;
Can one live on regrets?
Doesn't help when you get this far,
Make peace, forgive yourself and others.
Its too much, this tension of opposites
Why dwell on withdrawals, not on deposits?
He cried softly, face wet with tears,
Said to his wife, give me a hand dear.
motivated to write this on hearing the plight of my Uncle now 90. senior citizens are really marginalised. their condition is pathetic to say the least
Tuesday with Morrie, a book by Mitch Albom.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Do I consider me a senior?
I am now fifty but I am still nifty.
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
Copyright Philo Yan August 20,2012
You Get Me
Wonderful is what I perceived this life would be
Pain and problem free
But over time I found reality
And through it all I see
That you're the only One who gets me
I MAY BE MISUNDERSTOOD 'CAUSE I WOULDN'T EVER FAKE IT
YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN
'CAUSE YOU GET ME
DOESNT MATTER WHAT THEY DO, WHAT THEY THINK, WHAT THEY SAY
AT THE END OF THE DAY I'M OKAY, ANYWAY
'CAUSE LORD, YOU GET ME
No more tears
It's a silent night
You've Broken down all fear
'Cause You've invaded all of me
You know me better than I know myself
The key to my security
There is no one else who gets me
[refrain]
I don't care what the world may say
I hear You call me By name
And I reach for You, reach for You
There is nothing that I'd rather do
Than just worship you , Lord
I'm gonna worship you, worship you
[refrain]
I'm okay, I'm okay
[refrain]
You understand me so completely
Now I am Free Lord You Get Me
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul-Time
I can not un-regard
I can not deny the sustain,
I can not over-refrain
acknowledging the kind gifts
you gave.
I'll not ever repay
the time
you spent
and came
when I needed
time
time
to cry
time to cry;
I cannot re-pay
all that
but offer
only that
if you need me
if you need me
I'll be there
to pay my Soul-Debt-
the most sacred kind
of debt owed
and debt re-paid.
So here's
my IOU,
my promise
to come through
for you
when
it's your turn
to need
Soul-Time.
Time when
souls mix
and renew.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Poem: In rhyme
I know I am quite sane!
I know, I am a boon, not bane;
Yet, every now and then, I get the cane!
Still, I can't hold God in disdain;
Many who I meet can well feign!
But, what have they tried to gain?
The wheel of Life must turn again;
Sometimes, I end up in a lane!
Love of God is my ambition main;
Sometimes, God gives me intense pain;
Will not the scorching Sun be followed by rain?
My sufferings make me more sane;
My sinful desires are on the wane;
From committing more sins, I try to refrain;
And the devils, I try not to entertain!
poem by John Celes
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The Dying Ex Football Champion
Around his bed his friends and family but of them he's not aware
His life's journey about to end old Joe the ex footballer player
On his back his eyes closed to his surroundings the life from him ebbing away
Last month he celebrated his eightieth birthday and today his life's final day.
Pre-deceased by his wife Mel she died five years ago
The last two years of his life's journey for him painful and slow
Most of those he played with and against in his football years to the Reaper long gone
But like the battler that he is to the end he's battling on.
Fifty five years ago the Captain of the great Premiership team
By football fans from near and far he was held in high esteem
But time takes care of everyone and everyone means all
And time has also taken toll of the champion of football.
Around his bed his friends and family a silent vigil keep
The end of his life's journey no more than an hour away he is in his final sleep
'Tis a fact those who love life do find it hard to die
But 'tis also a fact that all human beings are mortals and facts do never lie.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Soap
you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness
like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line
how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death
there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again
but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems
empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes
then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory
i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help
with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become
myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that
are so abundant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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Remember This Could Happen To You
As I sit here homeless do you really care?
What exactly is it you see,
Try looking deeper as you stop and stare,
There's a person inside, yes it's me.
Are you perfect, have you never done wrong,
To judge others what gives you the right,
To get to where I am doesn't take long,
Look in the mirror you may well get a fright.
Get a job you bastard you're a layabout,
That's just one of the comments made,
I am hurt deep inside when people shout,
It reminds me that I m alone and afraid.
Do you know my reasons for being this way?
If you could would you let me explain,
Or would you tell me the message I convey,
Is I'm nothing but a down and out pain.
Are you aware of my history I bet you're not?
To you I'm a waste of space,
A junkie or alkie who makes you feel fraught,
I'm just a total and utter disgrace.
If you'd just take some time to give me a chance,
Maybe just maybe you'd learn,
If into my history you would just take a glance,
I believe you may then show concern.
I could be your daughter or perhaps your son,
Now don't be self-righteous and say no,
We all have parents when all's said and done,
Through my choices I've now nowhere to go.
Do I have children, a husband or wife?
Or have I always been in this state?
Ask and I'll tell you what caused me this strife,
Ignorance is what I really hate.
One thing in life you must never forget,
It's so easy to fall over that line,
Before you know it life is filled with regret,
Then your mind slips into decline.
In life we judge others without knowing the facts,
Who measures failure and what is success,
Circumstances and decisions are the ultimate acts,
They determine if life's good or a mess.
Next time you walk past me don't be all seeing,
The way you judge me may well not be true,
All I ask is you treat me as a Human Being,
‘' Remember This Could Happen To You ‘'
Father –in-law’s and mother-in- law’s daughter is a daughter-in-law
Father –in-law’s and mother-in- law’s daughter is a daughter-in-law
In the long and short journey of life one has to read the same law,
Even the daughter-in-law should not treat with them just like a saw,
She must think that her husband’s parents are like her own parents,
Action and reaction we can see soon infront of our eyes and mind,
And every one has his or her law and so let us always live by a law,
A good son-in-law does not deserve for any kind of dowry to find,
He too considers that his wife’s parents are just like his own parents,
A daughter is born in her own family and lives in the another family,
All will weep to see the changes of her life from the starting to an end,
If that new family members are good for her she lives very happily,
Otherwise in every walk of her life she suffers and herself will tend,
All daughters have to face and face to cross the same path of life,
The Nature itself will pity on them to see their difficulty of life’s strife.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Sonnet: On Love-marriage
Some love to love a girl or boy of choice,
And marry her or him as per one's dream,
Without giving their parents any voice,
Inviting family's anger and steam!
This is because they just believe in self,
And do not care for others' opinion,
But place their duties to loved ones in shelf,
And take their spouse alone as pillion!
To what extent such acts are right, none know!
The plight of family turns pitiable;
To parents, siblings, duty, we all owe;
Our life on earth is unlike in fable.
Though love-marriage is good in its own ways,
Responsibilities, we shouldn't efface!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 28-05-2012
poem by John Celes
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There Are No Victims
We incarnate with agreements made
we would meet our old friends or foes once again.
This time to set the record straight
to learn how to forgive, love and not hate.
Not knowing what happened in our past life
we meet our foes and carry the pain more than twice.
We have all been killers and other names in the book
we came here to clear our karmic debt and have another look.
We can now transcend karma and create without pain
we can be one with the creator and not have to be insane.
For we can have one foot in heaven and the other foot on the ground
we can now be in control consciously which is the new game in town.
Written by Christina Sunrise on November 22,2012
www.suzae.com www.suzaria.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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When Medicare was created for senior citizens and America 's disabled in 1965, about half of a senior's health care spending was on doctors and the other half on hospitals.
quote by Dennis Hastert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up and Forget
One goes up and forgets
Make room for others to let
This is cycle and comes true
In everybody's life as it is very much due
Past may make you unhappy
This type of agony is suffered by many
Old age may be come shadow
Get larger in size to be looked from within in window
Children fly off and go far
Leaving behind tales of sky and star
All beautifully narrated when they were little kids
Now we have to look towards them for any lead
They are on their way out
They have nothing to take care and worry about
Marry and keep happy with the family
Leaving behind curse and things considered to be silly
Old may find it difficult to look for golden days
There was time when they had enough time to find the ways
Now what is left behind except to look at sky?
Make the futile study of what is not done and why?
No need to go through ordeals and punish self for nothing
It was your duty and you had strived for something
It ahs been achieved and cycle is repeated
You are left alone but not badly treated
You will be given all the comfort with peace
Life will be in isolation but at ease
It is time to remember and go through spent years
Listen to good or bad words that others may strike in ears
Abandon no hopes as it is routine and casual
It always takes place in its course as usual
Spend the time with happy mood and excel
Laugh it out at past and smilingly reveal or tell
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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As Expectations Come To Go
As expectations come to go,
Few can bet on what had been selected...
To satisfy what time has realized.
Who can look at someone,
And judge what's next?
Who knows what steps taken,
Who be the ones 'that' someone elects?
And who knows what's best for anyone to get done?
Only the one on a path that is chosen...
Can detect what to expect.
From a life lived inspired by tests.
As expectations come to go,
Few can bet on what had been selected...
To satisfy what time has realized.
And only those with their eyes wide open,
Know better than those who have their eyes closed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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