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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Related quotes
At play
Play that you are mother dear,
And play that papa is your beau;
Play that we sit in the corner here,
Just as we used to, long ago.
Playing so, we lovers two
Are just as happy as we can be,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
"I love you" we both shall say,
All in earnest and all in play.
Or, play that you are that other one
That some time came, and went away;
And play that the light of years agone
Stole into my heart again to-day!
Playing that you are the one I knew
In the days that never again may be,
I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
I love you!" my heart shall say
To the ghost of the past come back to-day!
Or, play that you sought this nestling-place
For your own sweet self, with that dual guise
Of your pretty mother in your face
And the look of that other in your eyes!
So the dear old loves shall live anew
As I hold my darling on my knee,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
Oh, many a strange, true thing we say
And do when we pretend to play!
poem by Eugene Field
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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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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.
Children And Their Immortal Shelter.
Children And Their Immortal Shelter, -To My Divine Sisters And Brothers.
Go on go on with sense’s slaughter,
Of your biological parasites,
The Mother Divine, cries and whines,
Seeing her children’s plight.
Sinners were they never not,
No sin had they ever brought,
But in senses’ play, on their clays,
Their Mother, they have forgot.
The mystic play, on the ground,
Goes round and round,
With sports and, operas incessant,
The referee’s whistle, -conscience’ bell
And captain’s dictate not to make a foul,
Remain, remain unheard, -although they haul.
The mother wishes, the mother cherishes,
First. a righteous play, and then,
To feel Her origin, the clay within green,
For her children, by their birth, are divine.
Time She has allotted, -of incessant births,
For playing with Her children on this earth.
The child-like innocence, with no ignorance,
And Faith-live, -for mother’s anchor,
Open to the children, the recognition of immortal shelter.
poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
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Mother Is Dying: Part 2 (Filicide)
Mother is infuriated
Mother is irritated
Mother is agitated
Mother is aggravated
Tormented by Her children
Sickened by Her children
Scarred by Her children
She is beginning to die
Mother was gentle
Mother was accepting
Mother was enduring
Though mother is now corrupted,
Similar to Her children
Her anger boils from her very core
Swirling vortexes of hatred dominate the skies
Her loathe floods Her children’s lives
The incarnate of Her disgust with Her children
Is devastating and cataclysmic
Her children can no longer find
Sanctuary from mother’s mercy
Mother is too enraged to rationalize
Mother will create The Rapture.
Mother will cause The Apocalypse.
Mother will eliminate humanity.
Mother will commit filicide.
poem by Alex Gomez
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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
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This Changing World
This changing world...
where children hear
not only the voice of their mother
where children eat
not only the food that their mother cooked
where children sing
not only the songs of their native tongue
where children no longer play
with butterflies outdoor...
We need to be more stronger
more wiser
more confident
more understanding
more loving
more caring
and more connected
to one another
to make this changing world
a better place to live
for our children.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Child Predators
whats going on in this world today.
another child taken
peoples lives are shaken.
blood of children spilled
this is not GODS will.
we are living in a society where children
can't be free, to run and play.
as they did before.
to return to their home nevermore.
we are adults, and it's our responsibility
to make sure that our children can see
that they're living in a democracy.
we must take away their fears that
are locked up inside.
when they see a stranger they
must run and hide.
look in their eyes and see their trust
is that asking for too much?
caylee, haleigh are just two.
change the laws is what we
have to do.
predators should not be on the streets
where children play and love to meet.
they should be in jails or asylums
and treated for the sickness within.
children should not have to pay
for their evil thoughts and sins.
poem by Louis Rams
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Clouds and Waves
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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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
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Dolls
She said: "I am too old to play
With dolls," and put them all away,
Into a box, one rainy day.
I think she must have felt some pain,
She looked so long into the rain,
Then sighed: "I'll bring you out again;
"For I'll have little children too,
With sunny hair and eyes of blue
And they will play and play with you.
"And now good-bye, my pretty dears;
There in the dark for years and years,
Dream of your little mother's tears."
Eglantine, Pierrot and Marie Claire,
Topsy and Tiny and Teddy Bear,
Side by side in the coffer there.
Time went by; one day she kneeled
By a wooden Cross in Flanders Field,
And wept for the One the earth concealed;
And made a vow she would never wed,
But always be true to the deathless dead,
Until the span of her life be sped.
* *
* * *
* *
More years went on and they made her wise
By sickness and pain and sacrifice,
With greying tresses and tired eyes.
And then one evening of weary rain,
She opened the old oak box again,
And her heart was clutched with an ancient pain
For there in the quiet dark they lay,
Just as they were when she put them away...
O but it seemed like yesterday!
Topsy and Tiny and Teddy Bear,
Eglantine, Pierrot and Marie Claire,
Ever so hopefully waiting there.
But she looked at them through her blinding tears,
And she said: "You've been patient, my pretty dears;
You've waited and waited all these years.
"I've broken a promise I made so true;
But my heart, my darlings, is broken too:
No little Mothers have I for you.
"My hands are withered, my hair is grey;
Yet just for a moment I'll try to play
With you as I did that long dead day...
"Ah no, I cannot. I try in vain . . .
I stare and I stare into the rain . . .
I'll put you back in your box again.
"Bless you, darlings, perhaps one day,
Some little Mother will find you and play,
And once again you'll be glad and gay.
"But when in the friendly dark I lie,
No one will ever love you as I . . . .
My little children . . . good-bye . . . good-bye."
poem by Robert William Service
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Another Day
Wake up
The dawn of another dull day
Take up
Your dreams and on your way
Oh oh ooh
Daylight
Mother stands in the hall
Last night
Head against the wall
Oh oh ooh
When night turns to day
And the children come out to play
Another day
Stop, shake out
They came my way
Oh oh ooh...
Boy, salute in a street uniform
Toy, soldier ripped and torn
Oh oh ooh
When night turns to day
And the children come out to play
Another day
Stop, shout
They came my way
Oh oh ooh
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Fore-Elders
When from the child, that still is led
By hand, a father's hand is gone, ---
Or when a few-year'd mother dead
Has left her children growing on, ---
When men have left their children staid,
And they again have boy and maid, ---
O, can they know, as years may roll,
Their children's children, soul by soul?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
My elders' elders, man and wife,
Were borne full early to the tomb,
With children still in childhood life
To play with butterfly or bloom.
And did they see the seasons mould
Their faces on, from young to old,
As years might bring them, turn by turn,
A time to laugh or time to mourn?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
How fain I now would walk the floor
Within their mossy porch's bow,
Or linger by their church's door,
Or road that bore them to and fro,
Or nook where once they build their mow,
Or gateway open to their plough
(Though now indeed no gate is swung
That their live hands had ever hung ), ---
If I could know that they would see
Their child's late child, and know of me.
poem by William Barnes
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The Games We Play
(hicks / clarke / nash)
Well I heard your mother say
What a pleasant boy youre going with
That I dont mean any harm
And I only want to play
Though I know shes just protecting you
Youre just a little girl
Well if your mother only knew the games we play
When I take you home with me
All the family get along with you
Sitting all through tea
Wondering what were gonna do
Leaving us alone
The temptations far too strong
If your family only knew the games we play
Are you sure were getting away with this
You cannot fool your mother or your father for long
Only time will tell
If they are right and we are wrong
(repeat)
They know the games we play
Theres no hiding things like this from them
We know were not the first
And well never be the last
Everybody gets hung up
We might have to pay
And everybody knows the games we play
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nurse's Song (Innocence)
When voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast
And everything else is still
Then come home my children the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise
Come come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies
No no let us play, for it is yet day
And we cannot go to sleep
Besides in the sky, the little birds fly
And the hills are all covered with sheep
Well well go & play till the light fades away
And then go home to bed
The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh'd
And all the hills echoed
poem by William Blake
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Why Do Children Want To Grow
Why do Children
of now adays
Want to grow so fast
to look grown up
to think grown up
But still be a child at heart
I would live my childhood
OVER again just to be a child
to have pure heart
Pure minds, pure dreams
Instead of a childhood of distain
To play without a care
And see the magic of Mother Nature
And use imagination
To dance on rainbows
And white fluffy clouds
To play hide and seek
In the candy land of our dreams
To ride on unicorns
And sprinkle fair dust
To take a flight in
A midsummer dream
Why would children of today
Pass all this by
Just to be grown up
In a world like ours
Why lose the innocence
Of childhood sweet dreams
Just to rush into
The uncertainty of life
Why bypass your childhood
Just to be an adult of today
only to yearn the loss
of you childhood of yesterday
poem by Kaila George
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Mother! Oh Mother
Mother! oh mother!
Where are your children?
Where have they been?
Where have they lost?
Mother! oh mother
Am on you
Yet can't see you
Is you don't like me
Or you don't like us
Mother! your children
Some on edges
Many at peaks
Why are all not equal
Are all not your children?
Maa I understand you
You have lost your children
You are been polluted all over
Maa my mother
Please batter your creation
Batter and make it new
This is a humble request
From one of your children.
poem by Abhimanyu Kumar.s
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Play Play
play school
children play
teacher play
enjoy the life...
after school
teacher not play...
but
play on...
teacher at black board...
children play on
not book with pen...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Nurse's Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
‘Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Come, come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies.’
‘No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are all cover'd with sheep.’
‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.’
The little ones leapèd, and shoutèd, and laugh'd
And all the hills echoèd.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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