Parents In Our Life
Our life is a secondary school,
where we sometimes become fool,
Parents are so good,
They care us from our childhood,
If we are sometimes not well,
there faces of heart naturally swell.
house made by them is like my indian land,
in our life they have a higher position to stand,
We respect them the most,
For them we are always small,
Our parents are so good,
they care us from our childhood.
poem by Aastha Poddar
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The Author's Early Life
I will write a sketch of my early life,
It will be of childhood day,
And all who chance to read it,
No criticism, pray.
My childhood days were happy,
And it fills my heart with woe,
To muse o'er the days that have passed by
And the scenes of long ago.
In the days of my early childhood,
Kent county was quite wild,
Especially the towns I lived in
When I was a little child.
I will not speak of my birthplace,
For if you will only look
O'er the little poem, My Childhood Days,
That is in this little book.
I am not ashamed of my birthright,
Though it was of poor estate,
Many a poor person in our land
Has risen to be great.
My parents were poor, I know, kind friends,
But that is no disgrace;
They were honorable and respected
Throughout my native place.
My mother was an invalid,
And was for many a year,
And I being the eldest daughter
Her life I had to cheer.
I had two little sisters,
And a brother which made three,
And dear mother being sickly,
Their care it fell on me.
My parents moved to Algoma
Near twenty-three years ago,
And bought one hundred acres of land,
That's a good sized farm you know.
It was then a wilderness,
With tall forest trees abound,
And it was four miles from a village,
Or any other town.
And it was two miles from a schoolhouse,
That's the distance I had to go,
And how many times I traveled
Through summer suns and winter snow.
How well do I remember
Going to school many a morn,
Both in summer and in winter,
Through many a heavy storm.
My heart was gay and happy,
This was ever in my mind,
There is better times a coming,
And I hope some day to find
Myself capable of composing.
It was by heart's delight,
To compose on a sentimental subject
If it came in my mind just right.
If I went to school half the time,
It was all that I could do;
It seems very strange to me sometimes,
And it may seem strange to you.
It was natural for me to compose,
And put words into rhyme,
And the success of my first work
Is this little song book of mine.
My childhood days have passed and gone,
And it fills my heart with pain
To think that youth will nevermore
Return to me again.
And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o'er,
And not criticise as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.
poem by Julia A Moore
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I Need A Life Worth Living
all this hate
this neglect
my friendless life
i have all this pain
all this emotion
and no one to tell
my parents you say?
a school counselor?
what will they do?
they cant help me
all i am to them is another mouth to feed
and another piece of trash to work with
i see no point in anything anymore
i should just run away
and die alone in a hole
my home and school life is close enough to it already
i fail school
my parents hate my grades
my parents hate me! !
every day in school
i feel so paranoid
because i feel as if i will get made fun of every day
i avoid everybody
for my own good
i need a life worth living
poem by Ian Vinson
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My Childhood Memories
Childhood memories are often steeped in mystery.
The older we get the memories exclude
sometimes things we might find painful as we journeyed on.
I tried to visualise my childhood as a happy one,
though I know in my heart it was a very much lonely one.
Not only was I shy, but I never mixed very well.
I spent so much of my time nearly always on my own.
The only exciting time I can remember
was one summer I spent with friends of my father
whom I referred to as Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim.
For the two months I spent with them
in a small town called Allison
hold some of the best memories of my childhood.
It was away from my parents
and into someone’s house that cared.
I went fishing every day
in the stream at the end of the garden,
made many friends
and had one of the most enjoyable times
of my childhood
that will always live within me.
5-6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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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
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They Don't Last Forever
They give you a life they look after you,
To them you're their reason for living,
Whatever happens if troubles ensue,
They'll be caring and always forgiving.
Do they own you or is it the other way round,
In fact neither statement is true,
Parent child relationships were made to astound,
You love them and they'll always love you.
They will want you to achieve so much more,
Regardless you will fill them with pride,
With you they will have a unique rapport,
Their devotion will never subside.
They'll try to teach you about good and bad,
To ensure you avoid all their mistakes,
They'll forever be there be it happy or sad,
A good parent just never forsakes.
Yes there'll be times they will get annoyed,
You will bring them to total despair,
Any troubles you have they will never avoid,
For you they will always be there.
You may well think they just interfere,
Their aim is to cause you great strife,
As you grow older it will become clear,
They just want you to have a good life.
They'll try to put up with your mood swings,
Watch over you each day as you grow,
The good times and problems another year brings,
Their love you will feel and will know.
Embarrassing you is a parents right,
There'll be times they will drive you wild,
Regardless of that they will never lose sight,
That to them you will always be their child.
You will do things that will surprise,
Good parents like nothing more,
What you can achieve will open their eyes,
That's why it's you they adore.
If you only strive to do your best,
Without the need for discord,
If with common sense you are blessed,
That will be your parents reward.
When you have children yourself one day
That is when you will learn,
The sacrifice your parents had to pay,
Mutual respect is a gift both must earn.
Your Mum and Dad are messengers from God,
Look after them while they're here,
What they do for us we should all applaud,
Their actions we must truly revere.
Your parents will give you love and care,
That special bond you must never sever,
God's trials of life can be so unfair,
For the pity is,
‘' They Don't Last Forever ''
A daughter loves her parents more than a son
A daughter loves her parents more than a son
But parents love their son more than their daughter,
After his marriage a son becomes a wicked person,
Then a son loves his wife more then his parents,
Over heard by his wife he pushes his parents out of home,
None gives them shelter in their old age except GOD,
Daughter will pity on them and she will welcome,
As they sow so shall they reap the crops,
Every one should be careful for action- re-action of life,
Today we disobey our parents tomorrow our sons re-act so,
Hence we face the same journey of our life's strife,
If we take care of our parents the same God will do,
We surely get what we do in the kingdom of God,
Carefully with guilt and virtue God has made a bod.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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New Colour for Education in My Country
Many International Schools are opened
They bring rainbow in my country
They will hand in hand with public school
To give good Education for our next generation
Character Building is one of the great purpose
That we should build to our children
since the beginning
Give our future generation
Knowing more then knowledge
But also a beautiful heart and mind
Parents should hand in hand with teachers
To introduce this beautiful lesson
A school is very lucky
If it has a great teacher
Not only have a good knowledge
But also have a Hugh heart to love their students
To care of parents problem
To be there when their students cry
To Help parents to teach their kids the best lesson in life
A teacher who has a great heart to make our children to be a Gold
in their own country
I wish i can be that kind of teacher
But it's still long journey to go
Me, still need to learn how become a great mom
Our Childhood Reminiscences
But this is how we were when kids;
And this is how most passed childhood;
We dressed and played all kinds of games;
We never knew what risks, life brings.
Our childhood life was best of all;
Our parents met our every want;
What love they gave, we can’t repay;
Our lives went off in dreams and play.
Those pleasant days cannot come back;
The memories are evergreen;
As children we were angelic!
Oh, what a change when now adults!
Those were the days of real joy;
A little pain was there, sometimes;
To most, it was a care-free life;
We wish but can’t go back in time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-27-2007
poem by John Celes
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* * *
DO NO HARM.
Do not do to others what you would not like them to do to you.
Do not lie.
Do not steal.
Do not cheat.
Do not falsely accuse others.
Do not commit adultery.
Do not commit incest.
Do not physically or verbally abuse others.
Do not murder.
Do not destroy the natural environment upon which all life depends.
DO GOOD.
Do to others what you would like them to do to you.
Be honest and fair.
Be generous.
Be faithful to your family and friends.
Take care of your children when they are young.
Take care of your parents when they are old.
Take care of those who cannot take care of themselves.
Be kind to strangers.
Respect all life.
Protect the natural environment upon which all life depends.
poem by Kent M. Keith from The Universal Moral Code (2003)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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
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Take Good Care Of Her
(words & music by warren - kent)
Take good care of her, take good care of her
I suppose I ought to say congratulations
For you won the only girl I ever loved
But I hurt too much to face the situation
Just take good care of her, take good care of her
Just to be around her was my greatest pleasure
She was everything my future held in store
So remember when you take my only treasure
Just take good care of her, take good care of her
I must accept it, she loves you more than me
So with my broken heart Ill bow out gracefully
Please dont send me any wedding invitation
For I couldnt bear to see her there with you
If shes happy, that will be my consolation
Just take good care of her, take good care of her
Take good care of her, take good care of her
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Blessed Am I
How blessed am I for being born
Of parents good and God-fearing!
How blessed am I for siblings nine
Who made my childhood truly great!
How blessed am I for being made
Handsome and healthy, fair and hale!
How blessed am I for gaining ken
And virtues, wisdom, fortitude!
How blessed am I for being reared
So well by parents dutiful!
How blessed am I for achievements
Quite praiseworthy in life on earth!
How blessed am I for having fared
So well in life in every field!
How blessed am I for talents, gifts
That most men cannot dream to have!
How blessed am I for miracles
That gave my life a newer lease!
How blessed am I for finding time
To thank and praise the Almighty!
How blessed am I for grace of God
That goads me on in heaven’s road!
How blessed am I for everything
God gave me amply in His time!
How blessed am I for love of God
That chose me to be Christian!
How blessed am I for hope and faith
That help me follow Jesus’ steps!
How blessed am I for poesy
That made my life stress-free, worthwhile!
How blessed am I for God’s with me
And I’m with Him in earthly life!
poem by John Celes
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A Missed Childhood
I missed out on having a childhood
went from a little girl to womanhood.
I think the way my parents raised their children
was only the best of what they're parents could.
I always felt like their Cinderella
always cleaning, ironing and straightening up it seemed.
Taking care of my little sisters and brother
never spending time to be just that child which I need.
I always felt that I had missed out on something
and searched for that missing link throughout my life.
Been married too many times to speak of
been a mother to two sons and a loving wife.
I always promised myself not to repeat
what and how I had been raised.
But to give my sons all of my love
with Respect and Love and Praise.
To allow them to be a child
the best child that they could be.
And always keep myself in check
remembering that missing part of that child in me.
poem by Linda Winchell
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I think i am a bit possesive
I know these guys from my childhood
To me they have always been good.
We have sat together in all the bowers of a school
To think they’ll be with me till the end
Is an act of a fool?
I never wanted our friendship to be torn
And make these guys people of the bygone.
I always want them to be tether in my friends circle.
I want them to be with me till I get my freckles.
In my life they have been in my circle of peers
And they about me from my love to my childhood fears.
With other people I don’t want them to mingle,
Then I would become single.
In my life they have never been aggressive
But towards them I think I have been a it possessive.
poem by Venkatesh Bang
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What Parents When Old, Want From Their Children …
When you were small, a helpless kid,
Just imagine what parents did,
From feeding to keeping you clean –
A routine that had always been!
And now when parents are quite aged,
They feel like birds both that are caged;
Just give them half the love they gave;
Don’t lose your temper / misbehave!
When you were small and could not bathe,
Mom bathed you with towel to swathe,
And wiped you dry and combed your hair,
All your mischief, she had to bear!
When parents are now pretty old,
Or have a fever, catch a cold,
Should not the children care for them,
And treat them for each new problem?
When you were just a little child,
And parents scolded you so mild,
To show you what was wrong and right,
And chalk a future that was bright!
And now when parents have gone weak,
To walk, your assistance, they seek,
Oblige them with a heart all glad:
Old age is less happy, much sad!
When you were craving for good food,
Your mother cooked it as she should,
And heaved a sigh of great relief,
When you’d slept, in disbelief!
And now, when parents ask something,
Be kind and courteously do bring,
They cannot buy whatev’r they feel;
They cannot run or walk or kneel!
When you’d joined school for the first time,
And could not say even a rhyme,
Your mom had taught you how to write,
And sang a ‘lullaby’ at night!
And now when parents cannot read,
And reached a stage, they cannot feed,
Shouldn’t children help them with these chores,
And see that they don’t get bed-sores?
When you were children very small,
And appeared each, a tiny doll,
Your parents helped to dress you up,
And without spilling, drink from cup!
When parents elderly now need,
A blanket when it’s cold indeed,
Should children not offer the same,
Avoiding saying words of shame?
As children, you knew not to talk,
And parents taught you how to walk,
And told you stories, sang you songs,
Correcting you in all your wrongs!
Now old-aged parents, need your love,
And not the warmth of any stove!
They want their children to converse,
And not a filled wallet or purse!
You turned a man, woman o’er years,
While parents wiped away your tears,
And found a partner good for life,
Ensuring days, devoid of strife.
When parents are now bed-ridden,
And tell you truths that were hidden,
Shouldn’t you mitigate suffering,
Without causing some bickering?
Yes, children, you cannot return
The love what parents’ hearts did burn;
Thank God for giving such great souls,
Who led you to heavenly goals.
The least that aged parents ask,
Is see their children do God’s task,
And live in harmony with all
Relatives, neighbors, till Lord’s call!
So, do your duty to parents
In ripe old age in ways you can,
And get their blessings on kindred,
That stays generations hundred!
Attend on parents in good cheer;
Be kind to them and always near;
Not all offspring get this chance rare,
To have parents old-aged, to care!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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I look through my childhood
I look through my childhood as if I were there,
but yet remain in this grown up body, which in life is not fair,
I have forgotten the good times in my past,
I can't believe that my childhood moved on very fast,
I thought it would last, and last forever,
but I was wrong, it did not last, it never.
but all happens for the best,
so that I could grow up to be a man and experience life
which comes in han 'd'.
I look through my childhood.
poem by Savio Vogt
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Strange Twists In Parent Echo
strange twists in reality role reversal parenthood
parents observe children in flower spring childhood
children when parents long live may observe parent
in time glimpse scenarios second childhood twilight
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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My whole family actually, but my parents. I had such a normal and amazing childhood. I've been so lucky. My parents are cool and normal. They don't talk about the business and I still have stuff to do at their house.
quote by Kaley Cuoco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Oddball In The Window
The boy sat at the window
Looking out at the other boys
Laughing and playing their games
Enjoying their childhood days
The boy hopes that they will cherish
Those blissful moments of youth
That have been stolen from him
Moments gone forever from his childhood days
He’s not crippled in body or mind
He’s not allowed outside to play
Those boys point and stare at the boy
They call the oddball in the window
His parents have imprisoned him
To wrap him up in cotton love
He is just to much a gift from god
He is their only precious child
The parents say it’s for his own good
He’s such a delicate child
He just sits at the window
Jealous of the children running free
He will never laugh with other children
He will never join in their games
He never smiles in photographs
He’s not enjoying his childhood days
He’s grown up now; still sitting at the window
His parents can’t get him to venture outside
Everyone passing takes time to point and stare
At the man they call
The oddball in the window
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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