Last Commented Childhood Poems (355)

What? No! that can not be! Where else could I be but here with you, and you tell me that "you are not my mother? I know no other person, I called no other person momma but you? What? Why she never gave me hugs, or kisses. Why? She said that no one could ever love me? Then and only then, when I was young, fragile I thought those words were true, but I also knew that, "God loves me." Words, words hurt. She told me, "You were brought here to pay the house note." "You have no people." You don't have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of" You are no good". I wanted to be a ballet dancer, but I was told "No blacks are allowed to dance." I wanted to be an artist, but I was told "No blacks can live on drawing". I wanted to join the Navy, but I was told, "only whores and prostitutes are in the service." I listened, and believed because she was a catholic and she went to church and she said her rosary. I believed that: I was no good. But I wondered how was I no good? What had I done. I was sentenced to this life of doom. Her grandchildren who were my age would come over for dinner. I could not eat with them. I had to wait. Then when they ate all the spaghetti, I was given bread and syrup. Such a devout woman she was. Such a phony for the public. But behind closed doors she lashed out with accusations that "I was going to be no good." That "no one would ever love me". I listened, and one day, I listened in disbelief. I listened and felt sorry for her. I listened and knew that what she said was not true. I listened and knew that I would someday take control of my life's circumstances. I began to read the bible, and I listened to God's Word. I listened at last to the truth, which set me free.

Husband and wife standing hand in hand,
watching their new edition stand.
welcoming his new times with broken words,
Planning deeds which will take him a step towards,
Winning the hearts of surrounding others.

Trying to anticipate what they say,
Hit and trial is our only way
High IQ and presence of mind,
Already available in these new find.
Feeding them demands lots of patience,
Takes us to the brink of tolerance.
Making them sleep is a big fight,
Parents have to use all their might.

Still the kids are a unique gift of God,
Such blind innocence never sought.
Innocent looks and golden smile,
always evolving new style.
Miles away from the mundane world,
always trying to move forward.
I wish I cold be a id all through,
Enjoying my living- far from the complexities life poses for u.

Thanks for reading...

I Did It My Way

I often do things my way
some times getting into trouble
especially when I was younger
the rules were there for breaking

A real scourge when at school
my teachers often despaired
boarding school was not fun
except for secret midnight rides

Even now I still go my way
although staying with in the law
my dad says I have my own way
of doing things, he is quite right

I just refuse to be a sheep
blindly following the others
if it does not make sense
then I always go my own way

Like a clam my interest was
What lays behind your shell
To probe too quick or too rough
I'm bound to make you snap
Recoil inside, forever close up!

So I thought I'll be your plankton
Tiny and lightweight, yet aplenty
A gentle current will carry me
And without much effort on your part
I'll come to you and won't depart

Into your unstable shell I will gently pass
Then for you I'll say a prayer each night!
For God to keep you, overcome this giant tide
In His care the roughest sea you will survive
A perfect pearl inside, the world will soon find out!!

gtp2014

I hope I have touched
his life for his has
touched mine.

I guess this is a poem, but it was part of my life.
A young 2yrs old, taken from her mother, put in a foster home
not given hugs or kisses, for the eighteen years there, thrust
out into the world at 18. Not sure what love is, falls for the first
touch, which for her was much to much. It must be love, the way it
made her feel. To be touched, held, kisses was her first experience.
She falls quickly for his advances, never asking questions but savoring his caresses. Then when he advances even more, she knew he had to love her. She abandons all caution and falls deeply in love with him. Soon she finds out she is pregnant. She tells him and he then tells her he is married. She is in unbelief, because no one ever told her that a man would do such a thing. She is scared for herself, and what she does not know about the world, about men, about love, trust, sex. Mistake after mistake she made trying to find that one person who would not take advantage of her. Now years later she again searches for truth. A man who is true. A man who is real and sensitive and understanding. It's late in her life but she will not accept that that type of man has been brain-washed by media and no longer exist. or maybe this type of woman, a woman that believes in true love, honesty, loyalty and will accept her place as God created woman for a help mate. Maybe that woman no longer exist. That type of man, that type of woman has been phased out of existence.

No silver spoon nor chandeliers
but plenty of beatings, plenty of tears
battered and bruised in pools of blood
as little kids frightened over her we stood
she never complained about the life she had
just now and then her eyes.. were sad
we lived with a monster n nobody knew
back in the day that's what you would do
keep it behind close doors for oh!.. the shame
fingers may point who would get the blame
whiskey he drank each and every day
I watched my dad slowly fade away
at night we'd sit around her armchair
him gone to the pub.. bag of toffies she'd share
I still can smell ..her lovely home bakes
in her well polished old stove..her wonderful cakes
devoted to us kids till the very end
"mother you were an angel".... this message I send..

Oh! What potent fate did happy childhood steal,
what sullied hate did crush young pleasures real!
Poet! Thou with powered words attend,
to quash the sordid deeds of soulless men,
wilt thou address dark loathed cruelty,
that gushes praise to odorous infelicity,
where torturous winds reap harsh howling rain
and lighting vexed that strikes with pain,
whose thunderous agony whips like daggers keen.
Cold, tremulous, shuddering voice doth evil lean
upon those serpent thoughts, what carnal ingenuity
solicit vile cancerous seed's impious obscenity,
to ulcerate virtue's natural creed of maiden shy or boy,
by mind corroded, with lust perverted joy.
Could'st nature dear, with many a cloak veneer,
insulate the child from future's shame and fear
and thereby quench the burning scars of wretched infamy
that serves the rushing blood of pale iniquity?
Enforced pale countenance and frail boyhood,
what fire will fuel the pride of adulthood?
Heir to ingenious wounds courts many a silent blush,
echoing tears that inner cry, sealed in a shameful hush,
must await! Healing wings of angelic poetry
pulsate within the victim's heart in young antiquity;
We, by honoured words more copious than its deeds,
speak of harvest that's not sown with seeds.
Best pray! One prism light, fancy full and gay,
colour the darken wrong, ignite the morn of day
with vestal serenity, on sparkling air's own harmony,
to dream love's dream with exulted ecstasy
as a flowered fragrance, to kiss the perfumed brake,
kindling embers sweet that on lover's cheek awake,
with soft sighing breath, roam as breezes free,
with naked music, innocent in all its infancy,

Alas! Granite by time hath harder riven,
vision shaped the scars of hell's own heaven,
will oft invite again bitter grief and tear,
love- lost eyes, where no bond may hold it dear.

up the dark hallways/down the blank stairs /through rotted doorways nobody cares. down forgotten side streets walking in despair. looking for someone but nobodys there. searching in the darkness trying to find a friend but never finding anyone is this how it will end?

I went outside one morning to play

I met a man who said good day

You had eggs for breakfast today

Would he know this? I said No Way

How could you know this I pray?

Because it's all over your face!