Lovee Toys
Children's
All way's
wanted too
Play with
Toy's gun's...
Gun's are
Vilonted Simbol...
Vilont is
Very poor of love...
So...
Teach the parent...
Teach love...
At play toy's of
your children
Bat and ball
Or cat and dog...
With other's...Toy's..
Avoid a gun toy's...
Play with your
Children at
Too much better
Loving and gentel toy's..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
WHO WILL TEACH THE CHILDREN? (rated 24)
Who will teach our children?
Who will teach our children? I speak not
of the lessons of school, but those of
life, living and those of God.
Who will teach our children, that in
war no one wins and all humanity loses
a part of who we are.
Who will teach our children, that God,
morality, honesty, love and respect are
the coner stones of the civilized world.
Without them, mankind will crumble and
disappeared forever more.
Who will teach our children of compassion
for their fellow man and respect for anothers
God, or color or creed?
Who will teach our children, all these things
and more?
The answer is whispered in your love...beating
in your heart....and echoed in your soul.
Who will teach our children? ...It must be you.
Who Will Teach The Children?
Who will teach our children?
Who will teach our children? I speak not
of the lessons of school, but those of
life, living and those of God.
Who will teach our children, that in
war no one wins and all humanity loses
a part of who we are.
Who will teach our children, that God,
morality, honesty, love and respect are
the coner stones of the civilized world.
Without them, mankind will crumble and
disappeared forever more.
Who will teach our children of compassion
for their fellow man and respect for anothers
God, or color or creed?
Who will teach our children, all these things
and more?
The answer is whispered in your love...beating
in your heart....and echoed in your soul.
Who will teach our children? ...It must be you.
What Of The Children?
Who will teach our children?
Who will teach our children? I speak not
of the lessons of school, but those of
life, living and those of God.
Who will teach our children, that in
war no one wins and all humanity loses
a part of who we are.
Who will teach our children, that God,
morality, honesty, love and respect are
the coner stones of the civilized world.
Without them, mankind will crumble and
disappeared forever more.
Who will teach our children of compassion
for their fellow man and respect for anothers
God, or color or creed?
Who will teach our children, all these things
and more?
The answer is whispered in your love...beating
in your heart....and echoed in your soul.
Who will teach our children? ...It must be you.
So I Ask You...What Of The Children?
Who will teach our children?
Who will teach our children? I speak not
of the lessons of school, but those of
life, living and those of God.
Who will teach our children, that in
war no one wins and all humanity loses
a part of who we are.
Who will teach our children, that God,
morality, honesty, love and respect are
the corner stones of the civilized world.
Without them, mankind will crumble and
disappeared forever more.
Who will teach our children of compassion
for their fellow man and respect for anothers
God, or color or creed?
Who will teach our children, all these things
and more?
The answer is whispered in your love...beating
in your heart....and echoed in your soul.
Who will teach our children? ...It must be you.
Theatre Of The Absurd
(ian hunter)
My tea turned seven shades darker
As I sit n write these words
And londons gettin paler
In my theatre of the absurd.
You figured for an evening
And you made it all worthwile.
Its seldom people have a job
And even rarer that I smile.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
And if your songs be classics,
Throw them to the hurd.
Truth is where they came from
And not this theatre of the absurd.
Some say you wanted to play for me
But its only what youve heard
That made you want to capture me
In your theatre of the absurd.
It was not me, I said myself
And you must do so, too.
I hope you have the strength to stay
When Ill be watchin you.
So baby,
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
Oh when I got here back home tonight
Something within me stirred.
Oh it must have been a different kind of play
That touched my theatre of the absurd.
Now Ill be on my way alone
But an interesting thing occurred
See nobody ever shared too much
In my theatre of the absurd.
And there I was back in london,
Thought about history.
It was just like being in school again
But I felt something movin in me.
Hearin just a bit of the future,
Oh its comin and its still blurred
And thats the only thing worth living for
In my theatre of the absurd.
Come on,
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Oh play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
(beautiful)
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
(john, come on)
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Oh, play me some, (come on, eric) play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Oh, play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
...
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Forget Them...
Who will teach our children? I speak not
of the lessons of school, but those of
life, living and those of God.
Who will teach our children, that in
war no one wins and all humanity loses
a part of who we are.
Who will teach our children, that God,
morality, honesty, love and respect are
the coner stones of the civilized world.
Without them, mankind will crumble and
disappeared forever more.
Who will teach our children of compassion
for their fellow man and respect for anothers
God, or color or creed?
Who will teach our children, all these things
and more?
The answer is whispered in your love...beating
in your heart....and echoed in your soul.
Who will teach our children? ...It must be you.
Remembering The Children
Let the children sing,
Let the children dance,
Let the children play,
In a safe and joyful way.
And teach them how to pray.
Let the children walk,
Let the children talk,
To friends, relatives, parents.
Show them all nature's wealth
Let them relate to its health.
Let the children work
At chores selected to fulfill
Full use of energies and will
To compete, to give and enact
The meaning of commitment.
Let the children read
Everything within their reach,
All the things that teach,
And when there's peace within
There'll be peace without.
poem by Hildred Marjorie Schloss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Children
Little children are a gift
An heritage in the Lord
That we might learn humility
According to God's Word.
Little children teach us much
As we open to their love
For we must be as little children
To our Father from above.
Little children are a blessing
As we watch them play and laugh
For when we look at little children
We see no hate nor wrath.
Little children God does give us
That as parents we might be,
A reflection of the Lord
God calls this, family.
For our Father up above
Told us in His Son;
'You cannot enter heaven-
unless like little children you become'
So let's bless our little children
As they grow from day to day;
Learn to be like Yeshua to them
And train them in their way.
poem by Richard Merrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teach The Gifted Children
Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem: 'Playtime Slayer
- 6. May.2006 -
Unsuspecting children play, nothing seems amiss
They are jumping, they are running, they’re just ‘being kids’
Unsuspecting children play, unnoticing this little girl
She is crying, she is dying, carrying the weight of the world
Unsuspecting children play, laughing to themselves
They are so unknowing of this little girls living hell
Unsuspecting children play, having so much fun
This girl is used to being bullied, but she’s not the only one
Unsuspecting children play, unknowing of this pain
They don’t even see this girl… they don’t let her join their game
Unsuspecting children play, as a young girls life falls apart
They don’t even suspect; this little girl ‘self-harms’
poem by Rachel Ann Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dublin
The children play in the streets, they say
The children play in the streets
While the ships dock fast in Dublin Bay,
The children play in the streets.
Och aye, the blarney blunderbuss,
He's corked, and who's to blame?
'Tain't that his wee son with a pint,
Too soon to walk the same?
Across Ha'penny Bridge his Molly
Bends to scratch for coal,
And one last fire to celebrate:
Today she quits the dole.
But what of Barry? What of Shane?
Who'll give the tykes their bread,
With Pap in one dyke stone-cold drunk,
In the other Mam stone-cold dead?
The children play in the streets, they say
The children play in the streets
While the ships dock fast in Dublin Bay,
The children play in the streets.
Gambol (a ghazal)
Received and given, preening doves
in courtship sway, they play for love.
Children bouncing balls off walls,
a ricochet they play for love.
Sculptors stories live in folds
of molded clay they play for love.
Gamblers stake to make or break
in rash parley they play for love.
Newlyweds on feather beds
in hideaways, they play for love.
Chiropractors whack the cracks
on vertebrae they play for love.
Glissandi slip from fingertips,
a strummed segue they play for love.
Scrabble rivals settle scores
in worded fray they play for love.
Shady names inflame with games
in sobriquet, they play for love.
Players love and lovers play
I love to play, I play for love.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child right to play
All children need to play,
they should play once a day,
All children should go outside,
even if they are small and wide,
All children should have fun,
it's well worth it to all the work they've done,
if children stay inside they can be snappey,
if they go out they will be happy!
poem by Amelia Gardiner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Love's Test
We teach our children never to quit.
We do so often, by words.
Yet, when things seem so bleak,
We turn our cheek on our own words,
And also the battles we face.
Children do, what children see.
Rarely what children hear.
Hoping they follow our instruction,
But never considering our own example.
When love hurts, we run.
We teach them of success in life,
But rarely of success in love.
It was love that made them.
Love will test us, try us,
And shape us to who we become.
Also, to who they become.
When love tests them,
Will they pass or fail?
That is for us to decide.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song: The Cries of Today’s Children
I hear the cries of children,
Of children of the world; I Singer
The unwanted and unlucky,
The orphans and of streets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children who want love;
The illiterate, sick, handicapped; II Singer
Poor, without any sheets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children that must work; I Singer
To earn while young for family,
Have no place, time to play!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children war-ravaged;
Who know not what is joy in life, II Singer
Living in squalor, strife!
Let’s make this world for children,
A better place to live; I&II Singers together
With encouragement, dignity, * 2 times
And all love, we can give.
(
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Name Was Snow (childrens story)
)
There is a story that not many children know
Of a young girl - her name was snow.
She would come down - you know not when
But she would become every child s friend.
Children would say that she was
“ as white- as white can be”.
And the suns reflections would dazzle me.
She could make herself “ a blanket on the ground”
Where children could roll and jump on her
And she would not make a sound.
Snow would only come in the winter months.
So that with her the children could play
She was very cold, but they loved her that way.
You could mold her like you would
A piece of clay, and that is the way
That she would stay.
You could make her as an igloo or
A very high wall, or roll her up and
Make her a ball.
There was so many things that you
Could make her to be.
but the thing that she wanted to be the most
Was a white sparkling ghost.
Where she could come when she liked
And the children could have a “snow” ball fight.
So children! When you don’t see snow
coming your way, then wish for her on Christmas day.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Name Was Snow (children s story)
There is a story that not many children know
Of a young girl - her name was snow.
She would come down - you know not when
But she would become every child s friend.
Children would say that she was
“ as white- as white can be”.
And the suns reflections would dazzle me.
She could make herself “ a blanket on the ground”
Where children could roll and jump on her
And she would not make a sound.
Snow would only come in the winter months.
So that with her the children could play
She was very cold, but they loved her that way.
You could mold her like you would
A piece of clay, and that is the way
That she would stay.
You could make her as an igloo or
A very high wall, or roll her up and
Make her a ball.
There was so many things that you
Could make her to be.
but the thing that she wanted to be the most
Was a white sparkling ghost.
Where she could come when she liked
And the children could have a “snow” ball fight.
So children! When you don’t see snow
coming your way, then wish for her on Christmas day.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You Know?
A blue ball bouncing merrily
arrives upon a motorway.
A recipe for tragedy
when children carelessly at play.
Follow the ball on flying feet
then with an accident they meet.
The distraught driver’s not to blame
but he feels guilty just the same.
Do you know where your children play?
Do you know where they are today?
It’s your responsibility
to supervise them properly.
I must confess that I did not
now memories are all I’ve got.
20-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: on children
There is a smile on the lips of children;
There is a look of innocence, always;
They seem to forget and to forgive when,
Adults display a wretched, gloomy face!
Oh, how they play about and love their play!
Oh, how they long for love and words of praise!
Oh, how they dream of presents from a fay!
And how they fall asleep or cry always!
But, does this world not ill-treat children?
Do children have their freedom, entitled?
Are elders kind, giving them tender touch?
Many a time, their hearts seem anguish-filled!
How can this world deny children their needs?
What kind of trees develop from ill-formed seeds?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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