A faint-hearted dinky doll
When she reached the adulthood and she forgets her childhood friend who accompanied her in the nursery road.
She becomes a mother and numberless new toys scatter around her child.
Saga of a sad toy continues and this old doll wants to join with the new dolls but she is very scared.
Her child plays with toy guns, helicopters, warships, armory and etc.
The rustic old doll repents of the new civilization and she cries in an isolated trash box.
*Is the human cruelty immeasurable?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Mother
A mother shows the child the world
A mother is its world when small
A mother shows the child what's love
A mother loves her child like a doll!
A mother makes the home and bed
A mother cares for all at home
A mother trains the child to walk
And stand on own, perfectly talk.
A mother is the teacher prime
A mother moulds the character
A mother shows the child to pray
And trust the unseen God all life.
A mother is the child's best friend
A mother knows its needs and wants
A mother cares for child when sick
And feels so proud, when child achieves.
Children, thank God for a good mother
On ‘Mother's day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-05-12
poem by John Celes
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Funny Fake Doll
As a kid I made a fake “me” doll,
she was like me but not too tall.
I sewed her up with bathroom towels,
she was original and had no jowls.
Practical joke I did make,
with Funny Doll that was fake.
I put fake doll in my bed,
covered the blankets over dolls head.
Then my sister went to sleep,
I told her from far away,
I was sleeping “Please don’t make a peep? ”
My sister said, “Are you alright?
you look very sick looking tonight.”
I replied, with a yell, ha! Ha!
Then I ran to room laughing like hell.
My sister got scared, and then she laughed,
It was very funny, it was a blast.
These funny childhood memories are the ones that last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzaechevalier.com
www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Rag Doll
Rag doll.
What tales you could tell.
A child's embrace
By a wishing well.
A painted face
And a Wizard's spell.
Ay birthdays
Young.
She always clung
To you.
Rag doll.
Of red and blue.
Rag doll.
You lay abandoned
On the floor.
Now lonely
Behind a cupboard door.
You weep.
Where is that spark
She used to keep
In her heart.
That you could feel.
Now she is grown.
You play no part.
You are not real.
From pigtails.
To E- mails.
Smiles,
For him now.
Not you.
Old rag doll.
Of red and blue.
poem by Kevin East
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The Small Little Rag Doll
The small little rag doll
Made with love
Each stitch sown
By tender loving hands
Places under the tree
Wrapped in Xmas cheer
The little rag doll
A waits to be held
Small young hands
Rips wrappers apart
And smile with delight
At the little rag doll
The gingham dress
The Goldie lock hair
And sown on smile
Make a small child gasp
At a beautiful sight
Loving she holds
The little rag doll
And makes her a bed
In her make believe world
Her mother look’s on
With pride and Joy
That her little baby girl
Loves her little rag doll.
poem by Kaila George
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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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Baby Doll
Girl of my dreams she dont love me
Always the way it seems to be
My baby doll
Light of my life she turns it on
Over my head not close enough
My baby doll
Baby doll
You look so good
Baby doll
You feel so big
Baby doll
You let me have it
Why did you do it baby doll
Quick-tempered queen knows what she wants
And what I got is what its not
My baby doll
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wishes And Dreams Within
Four dolls in my work station, the
prettiest small amounts of money
could buy - a special doll must be
cheap, otherwise I cannot
play with her at all
The smallest doll represents the
grown-up shell in which the child-
hood version of adults dwell, the
two bigger, younger dolls re-
present the wonderment
Of early youth - the smallest one
reminds of undeveloped potential,
everyone has probable personalities
which had been repressed to allow
one main ego to develop well
A shock might activate other ego-
possibilities - a split into several
identities - I sincerely wish I had
several personalities in me, one
for mathematics, another
For transcribing legalese, one for
cooking, another for social activities
while the real core personality would
be free to write poetry - or swim in the
sea or - dance to the music
My dolls represent my idea of human
personality, a bunch of unrealised
wishes and ideals within…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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At Helen's for Tea.
After school
Helen's mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don't want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen's mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can't see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the darn doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they'd laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you're glad
they aren't there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
poem by Terry Collett
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Sister Lisa's Surprise
As a kid I made a fake "me" doll,
she was like me but not too tall.
I sewed her up with bathroom towels,
she was original and had no jowls.
Practical joke I did make,
with Funny Doll that was fake.
I put fake doll in my bed,
covered the blankets over dolls head.
Then my sister went to sleep,
I told her from far away,
I was sleeping "Please don't make a peep? "
My sister said, "Are you alright?
you look very sick looking tonight."
I replied, with a yell, ha! Ha!
Then I ran to room laughing like hell.
My sister got scared, and then she laughed,
It was very funny, it was a blast.
These funny childhood memories are the ones that last.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzae.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Doll
The Doll
When mum went to work at the fish factory, there was no
money for baby-sitters; she gave me a black rag doll, to play
with. The doll, called Tom, was a caricature and today would
be seen as an insult. We had no radio or TV, and in the long
hours, when it rained and I could not go out, Tom became my
friend. Mum didn’t believe me when I said Tom could talk, but
only when we’re alone. School began I had new friends, and
boys don’t play with dolls; Tom ended up at the bottom of
a drawer. Forty years later I found Tom, in a shoe-box in
the basement, his fuzzy head rested on a pillow. I thought of
the time when he could talk. I put him back in the box and
taped the lid. Tom is dead, so is my childhood. In the stillness
I hear winds of coming chill, blow leaves along the asphalted
lane and far from where it all began.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lover Doll
(words & music by wayne - silver)
Lover doll, oh lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Youre the cutest lover doll
That I ever did ever see
Let me tell you lover doll
You were meant, just meant for me
On the first time that I saw you
How I fell for your cuddly charms
Lover doll Im crazy for you
Let me rock you in my arms
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shabby Doll
Giving you more of what for
Always worked for me before
Now Im a shabby doll
Whats going on behind the green elevator door
With just a shabby doll
Theres a hit man facing
A compromising situation
With just a shabby doll
And a very neat line in character assassination
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes putting him off and putting you on
Shes just the shabby doll
Youre swearing upon you know in your heart
Shes gone you know in your heart
Shes just a shabby doll
Theres a girl in this dress
Theres always a girl in distress
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes so sure shes self-possessed
Then again shes half undressed
Shes just a shabby doll
The boy that I used to be
Showed no sign of sympathy
For just a shabby doll
I have betrayed you and me
And paid for my own bribery
With just a shabby doll
(chorus)
Hes the tired toy that everyone enjoyed
He wants to be a fancy man but hes nothing but a nancy boy
Hes all pride and no joy
And being what you might call a whore
Always worked for me before
Now Im a shabby doll
Untie the gag the cats out of the bag
But wont show his claws
Hes just a shabby doll
She said you must be joking
Some things are left unspoken
Youre just a shabby doll
Hes lying limp and soaking
He was openly broken
By just a shabby doll
(chorus)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ragetty Doll
Rosemary has of dolls a dozen,
Yet she disdains them all;
While Marie Rose, her pauper cousin
Has just an old rag doll.
But you should see her mother it,
And with her kisses smother it.
A twist of twill, a hank of hair,
Fit for the rubbish bin;
How Rosemary with scorn would stare
At its pathetic grin!
Yet Marie Rose can lover it,
And with her kisses cover it.
Rosemary is a pampered pet;
She sniffs a dainty nose
Of scorn at ragged dolls, and yet
My love's with Marie Rose,
In garret corner shy and sweet,
With rag doll Marguerite.
Though kin they are, a gulf will grow
Between them with the years;
For one a life of love will know,
The other toil and tears:
Perhaps that shabby rag doll knows
The rue of Marie Rose.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Valley Road
While no one was looking on the old plantation
He took her all the way down the long valley road
They sent her away not too much later
Left him walking down the old valley road.
Sometimes I lead, sometimes I follow
This time Ill go where she wants me to go
She said maybe today, maybe tomorrow
Go deep in the woods down the long valley road
Walk on walk on little doll walk
Walkon little doll
Out in the hall they were talkin in a whisper
Everybody noticed she was gone a while
Somebody said she was gone to her sisters
Everyone knew what they were talkin about.
While no one was looking on the old plantation
He showed her what they do down the long valley road
Came back around like nothin really happened
Left him standing on the old valley road
Walk on walk on little doll walk on
Walk on little doll
Walk on, walk on the valley road
Standing like a stone on the old plantation
Rich old man wouldnt ever let him in
Good enough to hire, not good enough to marry
When it all happens, nobody wins
Walk on walk on little doll walk on
Walkon little doll etc
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mrs. Namita Shah-You mean the world to my child…
How can I thank you for all those bountiful values of goodness that you’ve so magically inculcated in my child’s innocent brain?
How can I thank you for so compassionately holding my child’s hand in an alien premises-when I wasn’t the slightest around to hear her inconsolable cries?
How can I thank you for making the whole process of monotonous studies—such an enchanting playground of richness for my child’s eyes?
How can I thank you for so beautifully taming my child into a symbiotically civilized angel—from an unruly doll only obsessed with her very own toys?
How can I thank you for so adeptly solving each barricade in the path of my child—as she indulged the first chords of her infinite mind into the whole process called ‘learning in school’?
How can I thank you for so magically triggering a smile on the face of my child—as she nervously fidgeted for her own space amidst several more of her kind?
How can I thank you for so magnanimously bearing with each bit of my child’s peskiness—converting each tear that dribbled from her eyes into the most perfect nursery rhyme of life?
How can I thank you for so thoughtfully introducing my child to each new aspect of school—letting her marvelously adjust to even the remotest component in the new atmosphere—at her very own pace?
How can I thank you for guarding my child like an invincible fortress of friendship—whilst teaching her the quintessential alphabets of knowledge at the same time?
How can I thank you for untiringly being the eyes of my child as she feebly weaved her way through each bit of unknown territory- amongst the incredibly tall walls of her first school?
How can I thank you for observing even the most intricate development of my child—and then making constant persevering notes on how to improve her all round performance in the chapter called life?
How can I thank you for being the most adorable home for my child away from her real home-and being the most perfect mother for her and all her mates as well in mundane schooltime?
Well let me just start by saying Mrs. Shah -‘That you mean the world to my child’ …..
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Dolls Of Religion
Dolls of Religion
Virgin Mary was a Barbie doll, the only one that has given birth
to a Barbie doll baby. Two thousand years this went unseen till
she appeared in toy shops, together with a cute Barbie doll man
... her son? And you now find them both in many homes placed
on shelves or cradled in children's arms. Artificial created, we can
never be as perfect as them. Timeless they are never get old, not
in the image of man's imperfection, but in image of a dreams that
lack what resemble souls and holds no promise that man was for
a higher purpose than just being alive. As millions of people go on
diets, they can never obtain long legs like a Barbie doll.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Toys In The Attic
So many years have passed me by
and so many toys in the attic lie.
Old rusty skates that used to glide,
I see them lyimg on their side.
A doll carriage, a wheel that's broken,
The doll that said 'Mama' now unspoken.
Coloring books all yellowed with age,
memories of 8 colors are on every page.
A kite assembled all by my dad,
the best kite a kid ever had.
A tricycle that mom and dad kept,
a remembered fall when I had wept.
Yo-yos and batty balls in a box,
and plenty of legos and wooden blocks.
So many toys from my childhood days
are in mama's attic that's like a maze.
They're everywhere I step, everywhere I look
but the best thing there is a pocketbook.
Mama filled it with pennies she saved for me
and they're better than all the toys I see.
See my books at stores.lulu.com/reizerj
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Rag Doll
I might be dirty, but atleast i'm loved
I might be made of rags, but atleast I'm wanted
I might be an old doll, but i'll never leave you
Cause your my only friend
But sometimes i wonder
Why would you want a rag doll like me?
I'm not pretty
I'm used and i've been abused
So i have a question
Why do you want me?
I might be timit, but i have a big heart
I'll be here for you
Even if you're not for me!
Cause you're the first one to love a rag doll like me!
(9-9-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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An adult is still a child
A child imitates its mother with air.
An adult imitates models to seem fair.
A child imagines a child in a doll
And enjoys tending it with fantasy.
An adult imagines some ones in his
And experience bliss in fantasy.
A child fears and pretends ignorance.
An adult dreads and pretends innocence.
Though old, still a child, I amuse myself
Though wise, still a child, I fool myself.
12.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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