Last Commented Childhood Poems (355)

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

I remember, when I was about five, being bullied, I remember, Geraldine, like a saviour, came to save me, I was about five, she was only about eight,, but she was like a super hero to me, that was my sister, I love her,, I know I dont tell her, but , sometimes poems dont need to ryhme! And all you need to do is say how you feel! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx all kisses for you !

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Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
Of glory in the flower.
We will grieve not, rather find,
Strenght in what remain behind.

Dance there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, not yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?