Poem from a Picture
(Children at play on a French Battlefield)
'When I was a child,'
You shall tell one day,
Children, on these blackened fields
Gallantly at play,
'All the quiet sky
Burst in death aflame;
One day, I was young,
Then . . . The Horror came.'
'When I was a child . . .'
Wind-tossed leaves of war,
Is there childhood still for you,
Wise in horror-lore,
Who have heard your sisters' screams
Shattering your play,
Seen your mothers past their dead
Led to shame away?
Ragged, helpless, maimed,
Hungry, left alone
Where the smoking roof-beams lie
By the wrecked hearth-stone,
Still you mime (child-hearts are strong,
Childhood pain is brief)
Echoes of world-victory,
World-defeat, world-grief!
Dauntless in your rags,
Insolent in mirth,
Laughing with young lips that know
All the griefs of earth,
God, who loves a high heart well,
Will not let you fail–
You are France, who laughs at Hell–
France, who shall prevail!
poem by Margaret Widdemer
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Children Of The Heart
Have you ever left?
Your childhood alone
Have you ever let?
Your childhood dreams go
I've never really known
The joys a child should know
I've never really seen
What it's like to just being a child
But in each of us there lies
A child breaking to be free
To learn life's mysteries
In child like dream
To run with friends and family
Free just like a breeze
To play in the fields
Of a childhood memory's
What is it really like?
To be a warrior of old
What is it really like?
To be innocent in ones life
What is it really like?
To be a hero in a child's dream
I sigh and often dream
What it would be like to be free
Free of all your burdens
In a child's innocent world
Of dreams
Can you explain to me?
What the mystery a child hold's
Why do we crave
Our childhood of old
I smile and think often
Deep inside my soul
There will always be a child
Bursting forth to be free
Just wanting to let go
There will always be a child
Wanting all their dreams
To fly into a world of fantasy's
And just being free
Smiling softly to myself
I close my eyes and dream
Of when I was a little girl
Reliving all my dreams
poem by Kaila George
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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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The Child In Me
I am a full-grown man
With a wife and children
A good job to do
Have all that I need
People think
I have lot of experience
To share with others
I give to them
What is expected from me?
But do not hide
The child in me
At times
I cry and laugh like him
Ask questions
As a child does
Play and behave like him
I know
Childhood cannot return
But the child in me
Takes me back
To the carefree
World of A child
No matter,
How old I become
I do not want
The child in me to die
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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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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Song: Child's Play
Are accidents - reflections,
Of the chaotic quantum world;
Do the stars that rule the heavens,
Raise cosmic flags, unfurled?
Is love a constellation,
In the vacuum pack of cold;
A joyous distillation,
A yeast alive in mould?
It's child's play. It is child's play.
It has no creed but come what may.
We write the screed, it's all display:
On bended knee, for luck we pray.
It's child's play. A wild child's play.
We take no heed, but remain unswayed.
It's child's play. It is child's play.
When we learn that greed, is here to stay.
Is the background irradiation,
More a subset of decay;
Not dog-eat-dog predation,
But chance as child's play?
So that's OK. That's what we say.
When the meme of hate, sells well, it pays!
It's child's play. It is child's play,
When our dreams deflate, in a listless haze.
So that's OK. That's what we say.
We lean on fate, like a brand new day.
It's child's play. It is child's play,
When we learn too late, what's been swept away!
poem by Dave SmithWhite
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Tears Of A Child
It seems like a nightmare because the world is in
So much pain
You can read about it in the newspaper as you
Bow your head in shame
The demise of our children is multiplying everyday
Some are raped or murdered at home
Or while they play
Their hearts beat like a drum as they live in
So much fear
God made them to be a Blessing but their drowning
In their own tears
How often have you heard about a child that
Has been neglected
Now they are killing each other on the grounds
Of being disrespected
You can see several pictures of missing children
Each day, please take the time and listen to
What they have to say
We need to come together and stop this cycle
Of pain, because the tears of a child
Should never be in vain
poem by Mike Santiago
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Lord Protect My Child
For his age, hes wise
Hes got his mothers eyes
Theres gladness in his heart
Hes young and hes wild
My only prayer is, if I cant be there,
Lord, protect my child
As his youth now unfolds
He is centuries old
Just to see him at play makes me smile
No matter what happens to me
No matter what my destiny
Lord, protect my child
While the world is asleep
You can look at it and weep
Few things you find are worthwhile
And though I dont ask for much
No material things to touch
Lord, protect my child
Hes young and on fire
Full of hope and desire
In a world thats been raped, raped and defiled
If I fall along the way
And cant see another day
Lord, protect my child
Therell be a time I hear tell
When all will be well
When God and man will be reconciled
But until men lose their chains
And righteousness reigns
Lord, protect my child
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children's Special...
Every child is born with a gift,
and there is a day to celebrate it.
A child is your treasure given by God,
Be blessed so, and pray to the Lord,
for that child gives you happiness,
Gone are your day's of loneliness.
Childhood does not last,
Every child remembers the past,
It depends on how you groom,
Give the child more than a room.
A child carries an ocean of innocence,
not knowing it's consequence,
does a deed that is not desired,
Many parents have always admired.
Thinking of a day for children,
is a wonderful thought,
Cherish every moment of what they have brought,
to you with their playful minds,
which do leave a trail of joy in your mind.
Remember your own childhood days,
make it more than special today,
make the children feel how good you felt that day,
when you celebrated the children's day,
in your childhood days.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Growing Up
Growing up,
isn't what I thought,
I wish I'd never been,
eager to grow up.
I was foolish,
I was young,
I wish I had,
slowed down.
I want my,
childhood back,
I want to go back,
and live young.
I truly wish,
I was a child again,
I could run with the wind,
and I could play all day.
Now that I'm,
all grown up,
it's all work,
and no play.
poem by Katherine Bryce
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Schindler
Spielberg's little girl in red
Walking through the ghettos to hide under a bed
Must children suffer man's inhumanity
Every child's face around the world should lead to humanity
The signs of our time in now
Remembering the futile past and how
Every child's heart is a heavenly host
Not a spirit to be slaughtered at a post
A little girl in red slaughtered and hauled away in death's cart
Every child born into this world must live to play their spiritual part
Multicultural endeavors must take a place
Man's inhumanity towards man a true disgrace
Spirituality through cultural understanding every child's face
Hatred through violence will not win the struggle of that child's facial pace
I reach far into my heart when I cry of a child's need
A child must always remain the fruit of our sacred seed
Every child's heart is blessed with the color of red
Facial expressions so bold and sacred
In every child's heart there is God's testament written in gold
Multicultural hearts of God's most heavenly mold.
poem by Robert G. English
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On The Life And Death Of Man
The world's a theatre. The earth, a stage
Placed in the midst: where both prince and page,
Both rich and poor, fool, wise man, base and high,
All act their parts in life's short tragedy.
Our life's a tragedy. Those secret rooms,
Wherein we 'tire us, are our mothers' wombs.
The music ushering in the play is mirth
To see a man-child brought upon the earth.
That fainting gasp of breath which first we vent,
Is a dumb show; presents the argument.
Our new-born cries, that new-born griefs bewray,
Are the sad prologue of the ensuing play.
False hopes, true fears, vain joys, and fierce distracts,
Are like the music that divides the Acts.
Time holds the glass, and when the hour's outrun,
Death strikes the epilogue, and the play is done.
poem by Francis Quarles
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Children's Day in India,2012
Being a child is what all love to be;
And when adult, we know we can never;
Childhood was best and everyone agrees;
But do children have freedom they deserve?
The smaller family norm has done great harm;
The child is neglected right from its birth;
It wallops in its faeces and urine!
It has to study when 'tis age to play!
What selfishness fills hearts of most adults!
They spare no time to watch the bud blossom;
World's children pine for love and yearn for care;
They are denied their rights when still in womb!
The crimes against children are on the rise;
Children are used, abused and not amused;
No nation thrives if children stay enslaved;
Let parents love their children sincerely!
Children are living wealth of nations prime;
Children are priceless gifts from God above;
Children are future parents and leaders;
Children need to be kept healthy, unharmed!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-11-12
poem by John Celes
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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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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VIII
I will sit down awhile in dalliance
With my dead life, and dream that it is young.
My earliest memories have their home in France,
The chestnut woods of Bearn and streams among,
Where first I learned to stammer the French tongue.
Fair ancient France. No railroad insolence
Had mixed her peoples then, and still men clung
Each to his ways, and viewed the world askance.
We, too, as exiles from our northern shore,
Surveyed things sparsely; and my own child's scorn
Remained, how long, a rebel to all lore
Save its lost English, nor was quite o'erborne
Till, as I swore I'd speak no French frog's word,
I swore in French, and so laid down my sword.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Childhood Love
the quiet one....
the innocent one..
five years old
posing for a picture
with the fellow sisters and brothers.
pink
bright child's dress..
dry clean only
hands held together;
brown eyes just waiting for a picture.
childhood friend..
couldn't live without him
cried tears of child-like pain
moved away
only five years old
leaving her very best friend
no matter they were only children
she moved away and left him
she loved him dearly with all her heart
childhood friend
you were the first
(On this date, I have dedicated this to Lauren and Abbey. They are best friends)
poem by TerriJo James
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THIS IS OUR WORLD! ! (SHOCKING n EXPLICIT)
Where a child lives in a warm mother's cocoon
Where a child is sold to the prostitutes, her life doomed
Where a father fiercely protects his child
Yet another father enters another's child
Where children play without any fear
Where men enter boys through the rear
Where a child gets a new toy every day
Where a child becomes a toy near the bay
Where a child is whooped up and twirled
Where a child is forced down and hurled
Where they go to fancy schools, sing and play
Where for a single meal, they sweat and labour all day
poem by Renu Rakheja
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A Prayer On Child Abuse
Dear God Above
Bless the children that need your love
Bless the lives that are about to end
Caused by a stranger, relative, or even a friend
Children sometimes become confused
That's no reason for them to be abused
Children shouldn't be considered a game,
Nor should your child feel shame
To play with their favorite toy
Like any other girl or boy
Child abuse is a serious crime
But it happens all of the time
If the child is too much trouble
Please send help there on the double
Please don't take the child away
Because someone got angry today
But if these precious children should have to die
Please take them to your home in the sky.
poem by Ginny Cadle
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Pink Ribbons
Pink ribbons span the evening sky
And trim your feathered bed
Now I will sing a lullaby
Lay down your sleepy head
You are the universal child
You, the child of the world
Born as to be yet sweet and mild
With hair that`s softly curled
The world has seen another day
The earth has turned again
The birds have watched you laugh and play
Betwixt the sun and rain
You are the universal child
You, the child of the world
By Mother Nature you are styled
In whom the rest are furled
The world has passed yet slowly by
This planet turned in vain
For, sorrowing, it saw you cry
And felt your silent pain
You are the universal child
You, the child of the world
I pray you'll never be defiled
Nor fear at you be hurled
poem by Valerie Dohren
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A Child In A Man
Testosterone muscled men have,
The Top and the center, the caves,
Something is there to do the basic,
Nothing is there to think angelic,
Given the work, they do sincerely,
As the kids in the play school aviary,
The children long to be praised,
The children need to be reminded,
The children want to be around,
The loving hearts that care,
In each and every man, there is a child,
That long for the love of a mother,
When the women identify that child,
They have the responsible man in the household,
When the women take good care of that child,
They have the obedient handyman in the household.
When the women try to be funny with that child
The child will be the runaway kid,
Likes to play truant, shows the authority,
Displays tantrums and becomes juvenile delinquent.
Identify and rear that child efficiently..
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Remembrance of a Child
This poem is written for all children taken from this world by rape and abuse.
Remembrance of a Child
By: Adam M. Snow
Remembrance of a child,
born tender and mild,
not an age past eight.
Such innocent filled eyes,
this world despise,
now lying in this grave.
She would laugh and play,
every night and every day,
with that smile upon her face.
She could light up the world,
when she danced and twirled,
now her essence is broken.
She never done no harm,
with her joyous charm,
now her essence is tainted.
She didn't deserve what she got,
yet the people soon forgot,
how she died in vain.
Taken from home by a family friend,
raped and abused, soon would be her end.
Now tarnished and left for dead,
cold and alone she waits,
as the world berates,
now naked and afraid, she dies.
Remembrance of a child,
born tender and mild,
yet taken at a young age.
Such innocent filled eyes,
this world despise,
now lying in this grave.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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