My rights..
My parents take me to the Malls one after another,
Where I have seen local people and foreigners,
Young boys and girls hug and kiss each other, while shopping,
My parents did not bother to notice what I am watching,
Every Sunday we visit the Malls to shop and roam,
Until our legs are tired and then only we come back home,
Exam is nearer and I am grounded with books and tuition,
Outing, entertainment and TV all out of reach,
My father, a professional, wants me to excel,
My professional mother prays for me to succeed,
Both of them try to educate me as much as possible,
Even they may think of programming the brain of their child,
I am not as excellent as them and I want to practice,
How I was brought up. But they scold and curse,
That I am rebellious, not cultured and loose.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
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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
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Shopping Malls
Shopping malls where
people gather,
shop, then go
crazy.
wrote 9-9-08
poem by James Foulk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Diamente - Shopping
Shopping
Fun, Exiting
Running, Squealing, Spending
Malls, Girls, Jewelry, Make-up
Looking, Eating, Talking
Happy, Rewarding
Shopping
poem by Brooke Freeman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From The Ballrooms
Awakened into the orbit where they are
Without voices—somewhere shouting mutedly
To the remaining coyotes who have no dinner dates:
The circus and the fireworks tents
Are taken down and someone else writes a better
Novel and dreams of running away—
Ogled by truckers in the shopping malls of their
Heirlooms—as the Indians sleep downhill from
The flea markets of their gas stations—
And their dreams have no stanzas—maybe it is
Because they fought too long, and that they couldn't
Understand any of their numbers:
When they saw the goldfish in the wishing wells of
Their shopping malls, they just pissed on them—
And did not wait for the rain to leave to step outside:
They became too drunkardly for their girlfriends
Who left them for boys who could almost always be
Defined by their occupations—firefighters and werewolves,
As the lights fell away from the cities at the edge of
The world that no one cared about—far away from
The ballrooms in which almost anyone could become famous.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost and Found
In a southern city lived a wealthy family;
In a southern city was the happy home
Of a father and mother and a little daughter.
In peace and contentment they lived alone.
But one summer evening there happened a misfortune,
Which caused the parents to weep and mourn,
For this little daughter, a loving little treasure,
Was a poor little wanderer far, far from home.
It happened thus, -- the mother went out calling
On a widow friend, who lived all alone;
She left her little daughter in the care of her father,
And through his neglect she wandered from home.
The father rocked his child, till her eyes closed in slumber;
Thought he to himself, I'll go over across the way,
And see a neighbor friend; he'll be there this evening,
And I must see him before he goes away.
He left his little one, he supposed, sweetly sleeping
In her little cradle, in the house alone,
And in his great hurry he left the gate ajar;
This thoughtlessness caused destruction to his home.
Soon after he was gone she awoke from her slumber,
Poor child, she then found herself all alone,
For no one was there, no one heard her weeping
As she wandered away far, far from home.
She wandered along on the busy thoroughbare,
No one seemed to notice this little one alone;
She wandered down Broadway till the little feet were tired,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
At last, getting weary, she sat down on the pavement,
And soon fell asleep, so tired had she grown;
In her troubled sleep she would softly murmur, papa;
This poor little lost one so far away from home.
A policeman came along and saw her sweetly sleeping,
On the pavement at midnight alone.
He gently picked her up and took her to the station,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
He advertised, but could not find her parents;
At last he took her to the orphan home,
Where she lived till a farmer in the country
Took her to live with him, this wanderer alone.
The father died o'er the loss of his daughter,
The mother sought for her three years alone;
At last she found her with kind people in the country,
Her poor little wanderer far away from home.
Kind people can imagine the joy of the mother,
When she found her little loving one.
"Oh God," exclaimed the mother, "I have found my little Alice,
My poor little wanderer far away from home.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Disown Your Parents
If you disown your father
Then you'll be damned
And you'll be damned indeed!
If you disown your mother
Then you'll be damned,
You'll be damned for that particular deed!
If you disown your father
Just because they're disabled
Will you ever receive a divine blessing?
If you disown your handicapped mother
Your curses will be by God assembled
And your troubles will - like wild fire - be kept blazing...!
If you curse your parents
Whom always you must respect and love,
You'll suddenly fall under bad weather currents
Yet you'll fail to fly and flee like a broken-winged dove.
If you disown the ones who brought you to this earth
Then beware, beware of nature's terror!
If you disown your parents then what you're worth
Will turn towards hassle and horror.
Without your parents where would you now be?
Now that you're famous then you reject them?
Learn to respect and embrace your parents
Nomatter what misfortune did to them,
Even when they do find death in life,
Respect, love and remember them.
poem by Comfort Ndlovu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shop, she shops!
Once she constantly smiled
Bought cloths and jewelry that gave her style
Shop, shop, shop
She shopped till she dropped
Shop, shop, shop
She just could not seem to stop
Her credit was on top
Her spending way rocket up
She paid with cash or credit card
This Lady was absolutely shopping mad
Shoping malls!
Markets stalls!
Shoes, clothing, and handbags she bought all year long
Spend, spend and spend daily was her beloved song
Shop, shop, shop
She now shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
This lady has now put a stop
Today is different shopping expedition
This time spending with supervision
No more that crazy spending addiction
Her credit card is cut
Her goods seized, the whole lot
Today she spends, her pockets hurt!
She has become street wise
Haggling with each price
She has become precise
About what she needs and not what is nice
Shop, shop, shop
She shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
Her spending has taken a big drop!
This lady has now put a stop to shop!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls Get The Bass In The Back (feat. Bounty Killer) (Hey Baby Remix)
Hey baby, baby (4x)
All the boys say
Hey, hey... (2x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey, hey... (2x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
I'm the kind of girl
That hangs with the guys
Like a fly in the wall
With my secret eyes
Taking it in
Try to be feminine
With my make-up bag
Watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody is surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you have enough you'll get the pass
And you can tell your friends how you made it back
No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
hey, hey... (4x)
All the boys say (3x)
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
Jum, jum, jum, jum
Jump on the stage
Jump
Jump on the stage
Jump
Jump on the stage cause we going crazy
Afterward myself and one of them gorgeous ladies
There is no need to be actin' shady
C'mon baby, hey, hey baby
When you rock your hips you know that it amazes me
Got me off the hook and nutting else don't phase me
Can you be my one and only sunshine lady
If no, maybe, hey baby
Hey, hey... (4x)
I'm just sipping on chamomile
I'm watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby, baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back
song performed by by No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Halloween
Halloween was getting near-she didn’t know
What her children would wear.
So many costumes- so many super hero s
She could dress her daughter as Cleo
And her son as Nero.
Maybe as cat woman and batman
That sounds like a perfect plan.
Well! Halloween shops here I come
I won’t have peace until they’re done.
As shoppers- we know that the malls can be tough
Five hours of shopping is just not enough.
They finally find the costumes they seek
What it costs- is my paycheck for a week.
The cost of costumes have gotten out of hand
I think we parents should take a stand.
What’s happened to those days when children
Used to say: “trick or treat, something sweet
Anything for Halloween.”
And parents used to make the costumes
For them to wear- and the toys
And gifts, the children would share.
Life was so much simpler then
When on each corner you’d find a friend.
Now it has become so commercialized
That parents no longer try
To go back to the days of old
When costumes were made and not sold.
Witches and goblins, black cats and such
Frankenstein and the mummy had quite a touch.
These were things that a parent could do
But times have changed, so it’s up to you.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Too
I AM TOO TIRED TO WRITE A GOOD POEM
I am too tired to write a good poem
I am too cold also
I have been out all day in the cold and the rain
I have been doing errands since early in the morning
I babysat for four hours in the afternoon
I went out again in the cold and rain to buy a few groceries
I tried to write and could not
I read and overate a few times
I tried to write
But I could not
I am very tired now
A poem should not be a simple clear description of one’s own mood at the moment
I am too tired to write a good poem
But I try to write
And this is the result
A poor poem indeed.
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PARENTS I HAD AND HAVE
I am grateful for the parents I had and have
They are still with me
I miss them
Sometimes they appear in my dreams
When I am walking I think of them
I see them at various ages of their lives
My father young tall strong
My mother smiling kind warm in strong middle age
My father bent on his way to the senior citizens
My mother in a wheelchair no longer even half herself
Or in the pictures of them in their youth
As I never saw them in life
I think of them and miss them
Their dreams their loves are in me
Yesterday I was with a great – grandchild of theirs
Who they never have seen or will see
How happy that smiling calm child would have made them
Life is difficult and long and filled with loss and blessing
How I will love and miss my parents always
How they still live in me
And hopefully in what comes after me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Changed Landscape
the map of
the country is changing
stores close
new roads are constructed
you leave years ago
the people close to you
wave their hands
wishing you luck
in another country
you lost
good luck was not in your side
when you come back
they are no longer there
you do not know the names
of the streets
they change it years back
the children playing softball
in the field
do not bother
a stranger is watching the game
but not cheering
houses fade
rivers become dry
mass housing projects mushroom
you look for the past cafe where
you had coffee with her
it is no longer there
malls crowd
you go into vast window shopping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My mother, who was professional schoolteacher, was particularly concerned about our formal education and even went so far as to start a private school together with some other parents so that our intellectual needs would be met.
quote by Robert B. Laughlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Children Want Their Parents to do …?
Allow me to be born, mother –
Into the world, God made;
And let me glorify my Lord
In life, before I fade!
Allow me to grow well, father,
Into a healthy child;
And let me do great feats on earth,
Unlike a flow’r in wild!
Give me some special love, mother,
And nurture me with care;
Do spend enough time with your child –
‘I am your earthen-ware! ’
Protect me father, while I’m young,
Support my life’s bare needs;
I do not want to be orphaned,
Or taught to do misdeeds!
Take care of all my wants, parents,
Climb me up life’s ladder;
The modern world gives bleak chances;
Keep me always gladder!
Help me to walk and run and play;
Help me to stand erect;
Help me to talk and read all day;
Help me to be perfect.
Do hug me, kiss me, embrace me;
Don’t cane me unfairly;
Bathe me, dress me and keep me clean;
Let me do things freely!
Oh, do not neglect me parents;
I need you by my side;
Until I’m old enough to stand
Alone, and in God abide!
Help me to realize my God,
In everything I do;
Oh, let me serve my Maker well,
Through fellowmen, and you.
Help me to show my love for you:
I am your flesh and bones;
Bless me that I may tend to you
When old, in moans and groans!
Look after me like your parents
Bestowed on you, their love;
This is the duty, God expects
All parents to do, prove!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-16-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Grateful For The Parents I Had And Have
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PARENTS I HAD AND HAVE
I am grateful for the parents I had and have
They are still with me
I miss them
Sometimes they appear in my dreams
When I am walking I think of them
I see them at various ages of their lives
My father young tall strong
My mother smiling kind warm in strong middle age
My father bent on his way to the senior citizens
My mother in a wheelchair no longer even half herself
Or in the faded pictures of them in their youth
As I never saw them in life
I think of them and miss them
Their dreams their loves are in me
Yesterday I was with a great – grandchild of theirs
Who they never have seen or will see
How happy that smiling calm child would have made them
Life is difficult and long and filled with loss and blessing
How I will love and miss my parents always
How they still live in me
And hopefully in what comes after me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Car Problem
I
My mother, to shop went,
With me she went.
For my brother we bought
Many toy cars.
Then we left,
To our Home Sweet Home.
There gave cars to him,
Then played with cars he.
II
Now one night:
That was at the past.
Went we like usual
To granny’s Sweet Home.
Me bro. showed there
A child, a toy car,
Then The Car Problem began,
And the child cried high for it.
3
All was tired
From the child’s cry.
His parents were
Like not there at all.
Then my bro. gave him his toy car,
And the child stopped,
And my bro. cried high.
The Car Problem, a calamity,
Then ended later on
After many good days of this beautiful world.
poem by Deepta Protik Osman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Killer Girls
The chicks in the town been runnin' around
Their on the loose
Legs are spread for freedom for bread
Their on the loose
Can't get enough to satisfy their lust
On the loose
Killer girls waitin' in line for me
Blood thirsty, get home in time for tea
Killer girls for all you boys to see
Easy action, get what you want for free
Never easy, got a stick shift disease
Turn me loose
I'll hypnotized when they give me the eye
Turn me loose
In their disguise I see murder and lies
Turn me loose
Killer girls waitin' in line for me
Blood thirsty, get home in time for tea
Killer girls for all you boys to see
Easy action, get what you want for free
Killer girls in a frenzy on me
I got no more juice
Take my advice, you'd better think twice
No more juice
They'll hump and bump you, forget your name
Ya got more juice
Killer girls waitin' in line for me
Blood thirsty, get home in time for tea
Killer girls for all you boys to see
Easy action, get what you want for free
Alright
Killer girls
Killer girls
Killer girls
Killer girls
Alright
Killer girls (oh)
Killer girls
Killer girls
Alright
Killer girls
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Home
she came from a broken home
where the parents at each other
would throw stones.
every day they would argue, bicker
and fight, all the way til the night.
not realizing their childs plight.
the child to them in turn would scream
but in the battle she was not seen.
from her father she had sexual abuse
fighting with him, was of no use.
he forced himself upon her at a very young age
from there on, her life would never be the same.
living in fear of what he would do
and who she could turn to.
where could she go
the judicial system moves very slow.
when she had told her mother.
her mother said it could never be
why would he go with you
when he has me?
she knew then, that she would have to leave
and with her being gone, no one would grieve.
she would pack her bags, with everything
she owned, and on the road she would go.
with tears in her eyes, she walked out
the door, to return never more.
and as she got to the swinging gate
her mother screamed to her
but it was too late.
on her dresser bureau, her mother found this note.
you gave birth to me, and brought me
into this world, and you had always said
that i was your little girl.
but when i told you what had happened to me
you laughed and turned your back on me.
so now i am leaving, because i can not
continue this abuse,
don't look for me, it will be of no use.
i love you mom, for you are my mother
just watch out for my little brother.
i am a child from a broken home
and i know that i'm not alone.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mom And Dad
If my Mom and Dad had not died
When I was young
What would my life have been like?
Would my Mom had showed me
How to use make-up;
And tell me, “not too much,
Or it will cake-up.”
What about the Father and Daughter dance;
Would my Dad had taken me,
If he had the chance.
I wonder if my Mom
Would have talked to me
About my little monthly friend;
And bring me a hot cup of tea
Every month that it began,
And let me lie in bed
With a warm heating pad.
Would my Dad had talked
To me about boys;
The one’s I should date,
The one’s to avoid.
I wonder what it would be like
To have living parents when you’re grown
Would your Mom still hold you;
And hum a happy song.
If you had a day
That didn’t go right;
Would your Dad take you out,
For a Father and Daughter night.
I wonder if I would have
Asked my Dad for money;
Would he just reach in his wallet,
And say “here you go honey.”
I wonder if my Mom and Dad
Would have cried at my first wedding.
What emotion at my divorce?
Cried at my second wedding.
At the birth of my child rejoice.
Would my Mom be in the room
When I had my first baby;
Would she had held my hand,
And said “it’s part of being a lady.”
If my parents had not died
When I was young;
Would they be proud of me?
What I grew-up to be.
Copyright © by Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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