Growing children!
He is playing with himself, just running around,
When his mothers is busy with shampoo and the heads,
His father is engrossed in coloring each strand of hair,
The saloon is noisy with the music of a woman mewing,
Blowers, dryers and air condition send the decibels as roars,
The smell of ammonia and scents of soaps betrothed,
Where the owner's little boy was conceived in a room,
Though he is five, he is as small as three,
The Mother has to wash the hair of people to feed,
The Father has to dye and blow to earn a living,
Both pairs of eyes are at the entrance,
To look for the arrival of the next customers,
That little is growing in the saloon attached,
With a room functions as living and bed room,
He is inquisitive of each and every object,
Touches the switches with no fear of threat,
Hides under the table to remove the rubber suckers,
Wears the boots of the mother as a fun seeker
Walks around the chairs as roller coaster,
Puts the hair clips to the dull banners,
Bored of doing these, he runs to the parents,
A scream is heard, the walking is stopped.
the weeping of a child under the dark clouds,
Millions of little children are growing in hardship,
With no one to love, hug and say words of sweets,
While their parents are at work, thinking.
Of bright future for them and their families,
When their children are left unattended psychologically,
Reading the world through the cruel examples,
Of negligence as the way of life to continue.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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!
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!
The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Mother Looked
You want to look how Mother looked.
Makeup she used to use lies on her
Dressing table in the room father has
Had locked up. You have secreted the
Key and unlocked and closing the door,
Are sitting facing your image in the mirror’s
Glass you’ve propped against a chair. You
Do not have your mother’s hair. You have
Her eyes, Father said, although he says it
Less now since her death, as if stealing
From the dead. You want to transform
Yourself into her; be the woman she was;
Have her beauty; have her smile; her gentle
Manner. Cancer took her like thief at night;
Reduced her to a bag of bones and hanging
Skin, pale and thin. Forget that image, Father
Chides, cast it away, lock behind the mind’s
Dark doors. You want to look how Mother
Looked before her sad demise, before cold
Cancer’s deceit and lies. Still a child, Father
Says, you have all your life to live; leave your
Grief behind, but you want to be as Mother
Was, like the coloured picture in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let the children be busy, when their parents play! !
When I hear the noise of children,
a few floors down the residence,
people say that their parents,
are busy in their one room abode.
When I hear the screams of children,
in the mornings of every Fridays,
people say that their parents,
are busy in making another one.
When I walk on the dusty roads,
I see the shirtless children,
playing merrily with flower eyes,
no dews, no dews, only sparkles.
Let the children play! !
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
By the Sword.
Your father made you
a sword out of metal
at the place he worked
and brought it home
one night after work
and gave it to you
after tea and said
Be careful how you use it
I don't want you using it
dangerously
ok
you said
and went off
with the heavy sword
into the spare room
you called the toy room
the place you fought
bad knights to save
damsels in distress
or have shoot outs
with cowboys
on the wrong side
of the law
and got your gun
out of the holster
before them
and plugged them
full of caps
or the pretend saloon
where you could go
for a shot of red eye
and once you had
the sword with you
you examined it carefully
running a finger along
the blunt blade
and then
you were set upon
by the enemy knights
out of nowhere
three onto one
and you had a sword fight
and being the top guy
you soon had them licked
and lying dead
and you heard your father
call out
from the dining room
Be careful you don't
kill anyone with that
and you murmured
Too late
I've just put them
to the sword
and he laughed
and your mother said
You shouldn't make him
weapons of death
it gives a false view
of the world
but your father just said
It's just a toy
just a bit of pretence
and a kid's got to have
something to use
in his defence
against invisible foes
and then they rowed
and so you shut the door
and put away the sword
and got out your gun
you could blow away
far more of them
and it was louder
quicker and more fun.
poem by Terry Collett
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!
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.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-28-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Like An Orb
inside the saloon
your hair is cut
the people around
are speaking using their eyes
you are sleepy
watching the hours go by
there is silence
no matter what music drifts
in the saloon
what noise is there
you do not care
and so you only witness the
shadow of their unspoken words
through their eyes
the world goes on
nothing is perturbed
like an orb
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yesterday
My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father's hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
have to
just because I'm here
I say nothing
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don't want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
poem by William Stanley Merwin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Good Friday, A.D. 33
Mother, why are people crowding now and staring?
Child, it is a malefactor goes to His doom,
To the high hill of Calvary He's faring,
And the people pressing and pushing to make room
Lest they miss the sight to come.
Oh, the poor malefactor, heavy is His load!
Now He falls beneath it and they goad Him on.
Sure the road to Calvary's a steep up-hill road --
Is there none to help Him with His Cross -- not one?
Must He bear it all alone?
Here is a country boy with business in the city,
Smelling of the cattle's breath and the sweet hay;
Now they bid him lift the Cross, so they have some pity:
Child, they fear the malefactor dies on the way
And robs them of their play.
Has He no friends then, no father nor mother,
None to wipe the sweat away nor pity His fate?
There's a woman weeping and there's none to soothe her:
Child, it is well the seducer expiate
His crimes that are so great.
Mother, did I dream He once bent above me,
This poor seducer with the thorn-crowned head,
His hands on my hair and His eyes seemed to love me?
Suffer little children to come to Me, He said --
His hair, his brows drip red.
Hurrying through Jerusalem on business or pleasure
People hardly pause to see Him go to His death
Whom they held five days ago more than a King's treasure,
Shouting Hosannas, flinging many a wreath
For this Jesus of Nazareth.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
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!
Nightmare
Here I lay,
Laying in bed thinking,
I close my eyes and fall asleep,
Here I am,
In a car listening to music,
In the car I look around to see 3 others,
My Mother, Brother, and Father,
We are all laughing,
And then it happened,
A light as bright as the sun apeared,
I quickly closed my eyes,
A loud bang followed it,
I open my eyes,
I feel a sharp pain run through my right arm and a pinch in my right foot,
I continue to look around,
The car was fliped over on to its top,
A fear runs through my mind,
A man came running up to the car,
He asked if any one was alive,
I anwsered,
I was the only one that responed,
He quickly removed me from the car,
I was asking to just leave me,
He just ignored me,
I then began to plead for him to leave me,
He refused,
I asked him why,
Why he just can't leave me,
All I just wanted was to be left with me family,
Sirens were growing louder and louder,
I then fell asleep as the man carried me away,
I awake in a hospital bed,
The man that saved my life entered the room,
He introduced himself to me,
He said his name was Adam,
He then proceeded to tell me my family died in the crash,
All thoughts ran through my mind,
But the main one that stayed was the thought of never seeing my little brother again,
Tears came to my eyes,
I wept and wept,
I awake in a bed,
My little brother was jumping up and down on it,
I could smell my mom's food cooking,
I get up out of my bed and go down stares with my little brother,
We all sat at the table,
Mom, Dad, Brother, and myself,
We all seem so happy,
I was relived that it was just a nightmare.
poem by Janessa Beitler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bowl and The Spoon
i hear the sound of humanity's voices,
the sound of suffering and need.
i smell the fear, and i feel the anger,
of those left alone, the victims of greed.
i feel the hate of the guns and the bombing,
the terror of women and children.
i cry the tears and shed blood with them,
i hear the prayers of the dead for the living.
i feel the hunger of children left starving,
i am the anger of the unemployed in line.
i breathe the despair of those left homeless,
i am the hope of those looking for a sign.
i am the body that somehow god needed,
i am the ears the lonely pray for.
i am the eyes that see through the heart,
the prisoner walking through the last door.
i hear the sound of the baby crying,
i feel the mother walking across the room.
i am the father praying for work,
i am the bowl and i am the spoon.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fashion Awards
Lets go down to the fashion show
With all the pretty people that you dont know
Well sit down in the velvet chairs
Theyll hand awards out for best hair
And if we dont win one, well, then
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
I smell magic in the room
Flashing lights and sonic booms
Lovely saps all without a care
Nobody said that the world was fair
And if they did say so, well, then
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
Lets go down to the fashion show
With all the pretty people and piles of blow
Well sit down in the velvet chairs
And hang on tight to our bus fare
And if it falls between the seats
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Parents Vs Children
Things that i don't understand in this world is that why do some people
get into relationship, getting married, enjoying life and making love.
But when it comes to children or when they already have kids, they
could not accept their responsibilities as parents. They do have
regrets of having kids especially if the kids are naughty, giving problem
or giving them headaches. They always beating, shouting, saying bad words to the kids saying wish you never exist, wish you never been born.
Instead of being calm, giving advice, doing good things which would make their children happy and be proud to have good parents.
Instead of thinking good ideas which would make them close to each other
.
Child is a child, they need more time with their parents. They need
attention, care, and love. Children are curious to everything, they need
to know antyhing as part of growing up. They need the guidance of
parents, but what I see nowadays is different. Parents just give material things to show their love for their kids.
Some parents just go out to parties, shopping, prefer to hang out with their friends rather than their kids. Then they just leave the children
to the nannies/babysitter.
Parents make their children be far from them instead children to get
close to the nannies who always there for them and give the love to the children. Parents must be a role model for the children, but what i see
now is that children do as what their parents do, they become more liberated.
There are also some parents who give up for their children. Some choose their own happiness, they don't like to stay at home with their kids. especially if thier husband dont have time for them too. the tendency, both couple would have a problem that result to divorce.
Where is the love that they shared? where is the promises and vows they had?
poem by Judith Kempis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father Xmas Song
Father xmas
Will be working all night today
So that he can deliver all the christmas presents on time
To the children and their families
Father xmas
Is living his workshop now
In his reinder to deliver the Christmas presents
To all the houses here at home
Father christmas
Won't have any time to sleep at all
Because all the christmas gifts have to be delivered by christmas
And he has to follow the clause in his contract or otherwise he will get fired
And he could even make the children upset
Because there will be no presents to open at christmas
Father xmas
Goes down through the chimney
And then he comes out in the living room of the houses
Inside of the living room of the houses at christmas time
Father xmas will find the christmas tree decorated and lighted up
Father xmas
Eat his shortbread cookies and drink his glass of milk
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father Xmas
Father xmas
Will be working all night today
So that he can deliver all the christmas presents on time
To the children and their families
Father xmas
Is living his workshop now
In his reinder to deliver the Christmas presents
To all the houses here at home
Father christmas
Won't have any time to sleep at all
Because all the christmas gifts have to be delivered by christmas
And he has to follow the clause in his contract or otherwise he will get fired
And he could even make the children upset
Because there will be no presents to open at christmas
Father xmas
Goes down through the chimney
And then he comes out in the living room of the houses
Inside of the living room of the houses at christmas time
Father xmas will find the christmas tree decorated and lighted up
Father xmas
Eat his shortbread cookies and drink his glass of milk
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!