Last Edited Childhood Poems (9)

The brain is the body’s power source for the mind
While used on a regular basis daily for either good or evil
It is never challenged when children are born to the
World, at that point it is looked upon God’s gift to
The parents. As time advances we discover the child’s
Full potential as the mind tends to decide whether the
Child has developed all that can be learnt by education
From schooling and the arts, sometimes the child becomes
A genius or may take a darker path of criminal activity.
This is were the mind enters this scenario. The child must
Realise by using the treasures of his mind the world will be
A better place for all. Choosing a career in medicine may be
One option healing the sick, another might become a teacher
Educating the next generation of children, all of this the mind
Will assist with inspiration and intelligence.
Then we have to view life as another child would envision.
The world could represent a different and eerie view of horror
Turning his back on society, may become a dictator as we have
Witnessed in our past centuries, using the mind to seek war
For personal profits, hurting families and friends, who knows
What damage will prevail. The outcome rests with our future
Families whether they choose a peaceful existence or war
Which no one will profit from. The treasure of the mind is there
To be used for the benefit of mankind, it must never be used
For man’s downfall.

John Ginesi (Author)
(c) 17/10/22

Reading as a Child


Where can I find quiet?

My thoughts scatter at sounds

knocking, knock-knocking.

Inside the panelled cave dwells parents’ silent attire.

I enter and turn, facing out.

Calm cottons, serene silks, peaceful polyesters

drape behind me like ghosts from the past.

I roll the hollow door shut, pressing in the peace.

As I lower myself to sit,

I fall through layers of shoe funk

hovering two feet thick.

Unfortunately, the quiet awakens Tinnitus,

who is usually hidden laced within the racket.

Finally secure, I concentrate my quilted mind under a dim bulb

and over words barely reflecting into peepholes.

Comprehension is vital

dad wears out his tongue,

as Mom sits hooked,

weaving twisted worries

that I pattern.

Deleted

She loves christmas, why?, her beauty is enveloped in the childness and wonderfulness
of it all, the sound of christmas songs, the lights that light the sky, the smell of christmas cooking, and the happiness in their eye, the feeling deep inside, of wondermant she cant hide and all it come to be, is the child she wants to be! xx

I walked a long the weary lane,Of Browning trees as Autumn came.Alone with my dog and black thorn stick, In a nearby field where rabbits sit. They danced and played in the Autumn leaves, That fell like snowflakes from the trees. A burst of speed and a violent roar, And rabbits sit and play no more. A tall pine tree the wind brought down , to lay in contrast with the brown. But the brown again will turn to green, Where Autumn leaves so brown have been.

Are you a vouyer to my past
To read my words
From my lifes journey
On my journey of life's toil
To find my hidden sole
my life
You read with such glee
To find that hint of me
My past my present
My future not told
I create these words from my heart
My words for
I can see
who i am but sometimes life hides this from me to the future life is hidden from me
On my ever ending posted life of me

Some words let you in.
Some words shut you out.
Others build an icy wall between,
frozen block upon frozen block—
not unkind, simply formidable—
to dismiss the connection.
Ah, but no words—
therein lies the dagger!

When I leave this Earth that I have walked upon...
Will I be glad or sad I'm gone?...
If there's a chance to return again...
Dare I come back?.....God knows I've sinned...

The bitter salts of this cursed Earth...
Taste sweet to children tricked since birth...
Sour things seemed sweet to me...
Such things I never knew would hurt...

Ice isn't warm, cold cannot heat...
You won't get tricked, get tricked like me...
I'll look for you in Earth's worst times...
Tell you the truth.....salt isn't sweet.....

Children from different walks of life
Mix of laughter, play, without strife
Helping each other, so good to see
Different cultures, innocence a key

From countries, around the world they came
Seeking a new life, with needs the same
A tiny girl, asked if I came here too
South African, her pretty name a clue

Explained I came from London, I smiled
Like them had travelled, thousands of miles
Mixed with Kiwi kids, sitting so still
Listened to stories, having their fill

Older ones helping, was good to see
Treasure hunt or craft, enjoyment key
I learnt so much from them that week
Children teaching adults, ages and cultures meet.....