That Child Hiding In One Of The Nooks Of The Busy Kitchen
there there
there is that child that hides in one of the nooks of the kitchen
badly beaten
and crying in silence
for years he is hiding there
and everyone is disregarding him
justifying
he is one of those pasts
and pasts
shall be forgotten
there there
there is that child that keeps on crying silently
and endlessly for years
my attention is
always caught
saying
i am you and you are in me
do not pretend that the years have grown some callous skin in your hands
that you are hard
and impenetrable
i am your father my child
and you cannot just treat me like a shrug on a shoulder
like dandruff on your hair
like some
old uncut fingernails
think some more
for solutions
and if you find it
this trembling room shall stop trembling
your nightmares
finally gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father whispers to the child
As the child continues to ignore his spoken words
As if his owner was almost invisible from the corner of his eye
The child shouts – silence” the father then trembles disfigured to heart
He stands crying tears of fury with the spark of love of his child’s naivety.
The child carries on his missions, his father watches him do his thing”
When finally one day the child realizes his insane character, the father then
Ignores his presence..
Appreciate what you have here, now, but not always.
because 'you never know'.
poem by Noorie Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I know a child
I know a child,
11 years old, and slices her wrists,
I know a child,
whose name is Elizabeth.
I know a child,
12 years old, and has a pervert daddy,
I know a child,
whose name is Maddie.
I know a child,
13 years old, and wants to die,
I know a child,
whose name is Ty.
I know a child,
14 years old, and came face-to-face with death,
I know a child,
whose name is Seth.
I know a child,
15 years old, and pregnant with a baby,
I am the child,
whose name is Sami.
poem by Sami Woodall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Simply Lonely
He's lonely
He always is
He just wants the attention
That he never
Receives
Instead he hides
His feelings
In a guise as black as night
He uses red lines
He uses sharp edges
To hide, silently crying inside
They call him a troublemaker
He just wants the attention
That is always denied to him
His mother just sits in her room
Locked up with her boyfriend
Never paying attention
His father is no where to be found
He left years ago
No one can get close enough to see
The class clown
Just wants to have someone's
Undivided attention
To know someone
Truly cares
He's lonely
He always is
He just wants the attention
That he never
Recives
poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocence of a child
In the dark of night
you would come
in the silence
of the hour
you would serve
Satan your master
taking the innocence
of a child
destroying a child's life
denying the child
a normal adulthood!
Have you ever thought
of your actions?
what you were doing
by the lust
that controlled you?
Who gave you
the right to take
the child's innocence?
yes, you, who gave you
the right?
After many years
of emotional suffering
a child entered
into adulthood
God embraced
the adult in love
Forgiveness in Christ
becomes the words
in the heart
freedom in Christ
the prize received
The abuser of the child
are then forgiven
Abuser of the child
did you find
God's forgiveness
before you died
many years later
I hope dearly so!
poem by Allen Brodell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mom
Mom
The pain you have caused needs to stop
And it will stop, very easily will it stop
I don’t want you nor need you in my life
Do you not think you have cause enough?
Enough to the heart and to the soul.
So this is my goodbye.
I am tired of crying and all the pain
You caused all of this
Mom
You are not supposed to be my friend
You are not supposed to be someone there
You are my mother
What did I do to deserve a mother like you?
You don’t care
If you did you would come visit me
Instead of paying to kill your child
I cannot believe you did this to me
Mom
What kind of mother are you
Killing your child
Why didn’t you kill me then
Why didn't you give me up?
I do not know what to think about everything
As a child I have been through a lot.
Mom
Does it occure to you that a child shouldn't be going through this.
Years later AI am still broken
I hurt like hell
Yet you don't see it.
Wait a minute how could you see it
When you don't see me
Mom
Think about that
You do not see me
And you never will.
poem by Makayla Straight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Broken Child
A broken child hides at night.
A broken child cries in fright.
A broken child hides the bruise.
A broken child is pushed and refused.
A broken child always with heartache.
A broken child who cannot fake.
A broken child who has no treasure.
A broken child used for sinful pleasure.
A broken child is so scared.
A broken child has no faith to bare.
A broken child lost in dispair.
I am the broken child, the one that no one cares.
poem by Haley Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our child once grown
What if my wife revealed that she was pregnant by me?
However, what if our child one day chose simply not to believe?
In nine months and eighteen years, I need to answer this question.
Nine months for God and my wife to give birth to the little one.
Eighteen year for us to train them in the way that they should go.
But, it is our child choice in whom to believe once grown and outside our front door.
At home, our child shall be instructed about the consequences of their sin.
Our child will understand the punishment of God for sin in the end.
I will train our child up in the Godly way that they should always go.
I will show them the love of the wonderful God I personally know.
Once grown, by us, our child shall be shown how to live life righteously.
Regardless in whom they believe, they will always be our child to me.
How would I feel if in spite of everything I taught and showed our child?
Our child decided, once grown, to take another way in life for a while.
Although taught while young not to steal; once grown they stole any way.
Although taught while young not to lie; once grown they lied every day.
Would I abandon them as quickly as the rest of the world?
Would they still be the prized apple of your heart and still be daddy’s little boy or girl?
Still, there is always a chance our child might choose in God not to believe.
If our child does, it is not because of the lack of the right instructions from me.
I will love our child even if by their life they chose not to follow God.
Because no matter what our child is an important part of my heart.
In who to continue to believe that major choice of life shall be their own.
But, they are still our child though they choose not to believe or act right once grown.
poem by Reginald Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Help Save A Child's Life Today
this little girl has kinky hair
black is the color of her skin
almond eyes that speak
and small hands and
short arms
the ad says,
help save a child's life today
and i read it silently.
i ask myself, honestly, please do not brand
me as racist
is there such a white child
who can say, 'Help me! '
i am just wondering.
and what about the brown child in Asia?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A child stuck in time
To sleep
to toss and turn
hoping not to dream tonight
in the grips of horrible nighmares
wishing not to see your
face
I'M a child stuck in time
I'm a child bleeding and
crying on the floor after
your done with me
I'm a child wishing for
you to stop hurting me
I'm a child stuck in time
I'm a child that doesnt
laugh only cries and
jumps at any physical touch
I'm a child who only
dreams of your face
I'm a child who thinks every
man is like you good or bad
I'm a child who doesnt believe in God
I'm a child stuck in time
poem by Babygirl 1992
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For playing....
Child will
Play
The dog...
Dog also
Play
The child...
Dog tail
Catch and
Play
The child...
Very happy...
Pain again pain
With the dog...
Bite the child...
Unhappley...
The child was
Crying...
But...
Dog also crying...!
What...?
For playing....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Twenty Years In Algarve
Twenty years in Algarve (biography)
I have lived in the upper Algarve for twenty years. I have been hiding away
from life all those years, I know every bush tree, every bend in the road,
seen, seasons coming and go, trapped in my own alcoholic mind, unable to
be free from this slavery that only makes me feel at ease when the bottles
have been emptied and sleep brings in a new day. Then working through
the day, blind never taking the time to befriend anyone, relax; for my quest
is the night when I can open a bottle of wine and dream the loser’s reverie
and see myself if I could be free of the pasts ghosts. My childhood is my
nightmare, only wine, for a while, stills my fear; those disgusting people
who abused a child. Shall I ever be able to break the chain of fear, feel
equal to fellow man? Alcoholism is a burden, a struggle I’m losing as I sink
into old age misery.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
ll Be crying
'll Be crying tears if some of my wounds heal
'll Be crying crying child lost compassion
'll Be crying to wipe some tears filled my grief
'll be crying and the tears stream around me
'll Be crying'll be crying and the remainder of my life
'll be crying to drown in my tears
'll Be crying in the coffin and bury my grief
'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon the Wall
The first picture is an old black and white of a young couple just started out their life. If you look close you can see all the hope in their eyes.
Next to that hangs a color picture of the same couple a few years older and a baby has been added to the picture, what joy upon their faces.
Now, the next picture is about seven years after that the couples hair has turned slightly grey and the child has grown, but their look of joy has turned to worry I wonder what problem has arose.
Now the next one is the once young child standing proudly in an arm forces' uniform ready to serve his nation.
Then there's the next picture it is a coffin with a flag draped upon it, and the old couple now standing and crying beside it.
I can only imagine that their child now lies in that coffin.
The final picture is similar to first except instead of black and white this has color, and instead of hope the old couple eyes are filled with despair from the harshness of life, and all they have left is the pictures upon the wall.
Stop Crying My Child
Stop crying my child,
Wipe your tears dry,
You need to be strong,
To face the hurdles of this world.
Stop sobbing my child,
There are mountains ahead for you to try,
Have faith, bite your teeth and be firm,
Here, hold my hand and see the open sky.
Now slowly walk again my child,
And run as if you can fly,
Never to give up when you aim for the star,
After stormy rainy days, you always see a bright sky.
(My Child I love so much, IKRAM)
poem by Spiritual Seeker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child Was Hurt
When I was a child you hurt me.
I was nothing but a mere girl.
I was only 5 years old.
I couldnt fight you couldnt fend you off.
A child was hurt.
A child was hurt for your fantasies.
That child was me.
I was only a wee girl.
A child was hurt.
It used to be a cool place to play.
It once was my faviorate place to go.
But you took that from me.
As well as raping me.
A child was hurt.
You said it was a game.
I knew it was rong.
It didnt feel right.
I begged you to stop.
You looked laughed and carried in.
A child was hurt.
A child was hurt.
I was so much smaller than you.
You towered over me.
You had the power.
And you didnt care.
A child was hurt
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Come On In, The Senility Is Fine
People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When You Touch My Body
when you touch my body with your trembling hands tonight
i choose to simply close my eyes
too, i am trembling to this passion
this desire i have been waiting
all these years, when we are nothing but
passing glimpses, until one day,
i tell you my name, i touch your lips i caress your hair
and you are awakened
by this kind of love
this total undressing this total nudity
even in tears and untold quiver
in this room, you are with me
there will be silence anticipating
our joys our confessions our opening up
hands to hands and soul to soul
we will be losing ourselves
tonight i am revealing all my skins and longings
i am naked
i am yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Warning
I remember I was asking why
And someday you said Id know
All these years, of fighting hard
And now its finally come too close
I cant believe its now happening to me
Oh, couldnt it wait a few hundred years
Destiny cant rest you see, now its time
Time to cry your tears! now cry!
The child of centuries, forgotten in time
You talk in circles of rhyme
Seer of places future and past
The warning you gave us is surely our last
Warning!
Behold the child, his pointing hand
Is raised in solemn grace
His eyes once wide with learning wonder
Now leave stains upon his face
Now see the hands of the working man
Hes leaning back against the wall
Once busy hands are idle now
Standing ready for the fall! our fall!
The signs will come as days past by
For those that claim to see
The blind will stay not choosing to die
Not believing the visions Ive seen
Warning!
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Father I Still Love You
I tried so hard to love you
But you never really cared
I tried so hard to trust you
But you were never really there
I wanted you to love me
But your heart had grown so cold
I wanted you to play with me
But money was your only goal
And now that I've grown older
And I look back on the years
I remember all the anger
The hurt the pain the tears
Father I forgive you
For all those wasted years
And I try not to remember
All the hurt the pain the tears
But father just please tell me
Did you ever love me once
Or was I just like leftovers
That you throw out after lunch
Father I still love you
And I'll never let that die
But father just please look at me
Say you love me to my eye
Father I must be honest
When you left I found another
My Father up in Heaven
And Jesus my loving Brother
They were the ones who loved me
When you had never cared
They were the ones who saved me
From a life of hate and despair
Father I still love you
And that will always stay true
But father will you love me
Because your child still needs you.
poem by Daniel Sweetnam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!