Best Sadchildren Poems
His marvellous creation called the world,
He watches seated on his throne in Heaven,
He wonders what is happening on Earth,
And why His children have turned into Demons?
His lovely world has turned into a pool of blood,
His children are now thirsty for each other's blood,
Flowers and rivers He gave us to enjoy,
Arms and rifles we ask instead? He wonders why.
Wiping his tears to us all he asks...
I am in each and every living thing,
I am in each and every human being,
Why then do you harm someone,
When you know I am inside everyone?
Do good and harm none,were my orders,
It should be one world without any borders.
I made all the different living beings,
Inside all of them is me,why are you not seeing?
He wonders.....
Do my children hate me, instead?
Why then do they harm me and want me dead?
I sent them down to live and love,
To give and help and not to shove.
A beautiful world and not a burial ground was my creation,
Love, joy, peace and happiness was my intention,
Hatred instead prevails in the world, now I am sure,
Oh! Are Me and My creation are a complete FAILURE?
Somewhere a mother is crying
Somewhere a father's in pain
Somewhere some children are wondering
Their lives will not be the same
Where were you going that day
Why didn't you stop at the light
Were you thinking of the future
Or what you would do that night
You didn't seem in a hurry
You were staring straight on ahead
You never turned to see me
You just kept on going instead
We did our best to miss you
We jammed on our brakes and prayed
We turned, we swerved and we skidded
But the outcome was only delayed
Now your mother is crying
Now your father's in pain
Now your children are wondering
Their lives will not be the same
Her hair was gold. Her eyes were brown.
She sat on the wall not making a sound.
The children would play whole and complete.
Their smiles did not hold evil and deceit.
The girl was broken just like glass.
She can't trust. She still feels the hurt,
even if time does pass.
When the monster would come she'd drift away.
In her own little world she would run and play.
No one could touch her there.
That world is still her own. While she is cracked and broken,
her world is held together firmly and can not be shaken.
She will let other children into this world through the books she'll write.
They'll have somewhere to go when they feel too weak to fight.
Even if she's broken her dreams remain.
She'll swim through the nightmares and fight through the pain.
She finally realizes she does have a purpose.
She no longer feels worthless.
The little children who are broken will read her words and realize
they can be healed through passion and love, to their surprise.
Hold on my little broken children, even when it too much too bare.
One day the other broken children will need you to be there.
Bastards in my ears again, screaming
Yelling at children on the playground
They were only “double-dutching”
Who are They, Where, How?
His voice is that of a seaman, or captain
Has to be loud, boisterous over the waves
I can hear it in the children’s voices
That he has done this before
Voice paints pictures, huddled up in a room
With the jump rope in two
He swings till his arm gives way, this angers him
And he switches hands, screams paint the picture
Fourteen years later there are no children around
Playground is empty as is the room
They grew up to make it, vicious
They folded right in two
You chose McHenry for your home . . .
Settling here, so that your children could have a bright future.
Your life was given for your children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren . . .
A loving mother who thought of their welfare, even to the end.
Never thinking of yourself . . .
Even in your afflictions, your laughter brought joy to others.
When your eyesight became poor, "Who is that?" you would say . . .
And your smile would always make them feel welcomed by you.
Your love enriched the lives of all in this town . . .
And many of those well beyond its borders.
Though your vision was fading . . .
Your love for others never did.
We are saddened because you are gone . . .
Our world has lost a great treasure.
We will miss you "Ma", "Gramma", "Poa", "Nien", "Bat Bat" . . .
But we will always treasure the heartfelt love you gave to us so willingly.
"GNO HAN NEE, HO AW"
I wrote this for my Mother-in-Law . . . who was a Chinese immigrant, raised three children on
her own, and started business that touched the lives of many in our community by her
singular courage, honesty, and love. The last line means "We love you, very much", and
may not be spelled correctly, but is correct phonetically. I was blessed to know her.
Although she has been gone nearly four years, I wanted to share my feelings with you.
This poem is of gross content and viewers are warned of such.
This is written for the children, none of us knows the sufferings they must endure
by the hands of their captors. Let their voices be heard in the night. Do not
turn a blind eye just so you can attempt an escape from reality. Listen for once and maybe
one child will be safe in the night.
Wickedness lives in our world and children will continue to suffer by their hands
unless we the responsible take charge of our responsibilities and keep watch
over them, That is our solemn duty, do it right.
For the sake of the children.
Tonight I search for tasty treats
All the lovely children of the streets
They are everywhere walking
Alone, serene
I'm going to love this Halloween.
.
Hello there children, lovely night
Don't grip your bags of candy so tight
Smile my sweet
Have fun, lets play
Tomorrow you will not see the day.
.
Try not to be frightened, all is well
Although you think that you are in hell
Come here my love
Lets dance, lets sing
I am going to do everything.
.
Tommy, you and Sarah play
On top, yes right, that's the way
Does it feel good?
Isn't this sweet?
This is wonderful, EAT YOUR MEAT!
.
Did that hurt? Well lets try it like this
There my dear now this is bliss
I love you Tommy
So smooth, so soft
I'll leave you to sleep here in the loft.
.
Oops, I'm sorry, Tommy died
Come here Sarah, you'll be the bride
Touch me there
Thats right lets taste
Turn around love while I hold your waist.
.
Do not worry love, it's supposed to bleed
This is how two now become three
Oh well, too bad
You didn't last long
Your cries, your whimpers were lovely song.
.
Now will I sleep amongst the dead
While sweetened thoughts dance through my head
Until next years Halloween
The night will bring me beautiful treats
All the lovely children of the streets.
BY: DARREN J McMURRAY
Placid Poet
September 13, 2008
Duty called once again for the warrior brave and true.
His loving family gathered 'round to wish him a sad adieu.
The somber skies cast a pall upon the poignant scene,
As they bid farewell to their hero, their United States Marine.
He held his parents and they whispered, "God go with you, son.
We'll pray for your protection until your tour is done.
Remember well the lessons in Sunday School you that were taught.
The Twenty-third Psalm will comfort you if you become distraught!"
He knelt holding Danny saying, "You're the man of the house now.
I love you, son," and tenderly kissed him upon the brow.
To little Nan he said, "Keep that smile on your pretty face."
His eyes misted as he kissed and held her in close embrace.
As his children clasped his legs, he held his sweet wife near.
They promised eternal love saying, "I'll always love you dear!
I'll hold you in my heart - there'll be a brighter day!"
With a final kiss he grasped his duffel and slowly walked away.
'Twas to be his final battle and then he would retire,
To regale his children and grandchildren nigh a glowing fire.
Alas, 'twas not to be for on the field of strife he perished,
Sacrificing all for his nation and those he truly cherished.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
A building was built in nineteen-ten
A place for the children to learn
Once filled with laughter, now the everafter
This schoolhouse would suddenly burn
Twenty-one souls, were lost that day
When the schoolhouse burned to the ground
A nightmarish cost, everyone was lost
A bible, the only thing found
A school once more, raised from the ashes
But later, turned into a home
With visions and dreams, of bloodcurdling screams
And oasis, for spirits to roam
Ghostly apparitions, now wander these rooms
Trying to escape from the flames
Trapped in this hell, their spirits now dwell
While calling their mothers names
Each night they play their childish games
Destined, to relive that day
Ever changing shape, while trying to escape
This place, where the children play
Save our children from slavery........
Our beautiful children are forced to hard
labor by some of the evil people on earth
And they kill their soul.
Those little hands are holding hard tools
instead of holding school books
Those little hands are touching dirty sand
instead of their mother's hands
They listen to their evil men called masters
instead of their school teachers
Struggling for their bread at infant stage
instead for the struggling for their career
Mothers are crying for their children
and want to save them from their darkness of future
Many years have been passed
but not single year has been cared for them
Because of our careless leadership
our children are still living in slavery
Let us join together and save our
little children from the hell of slavery.
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright @2004 Ravi Sathasivam
There is a place beyond the sun
That's filled with children's dreams
A place that's void of nightmares
No monsters or haunting screams
A place where trees are made to climb
And walls are the paper of choice
A place where children can play all day
And no one will raise their voice
A place where the light will always shine
And there's no such thing as sleep
A place that's built on children's smiles
Where no child will ever weep
A place where laughter is always heard
For the children feel no pain
A place where parents never yell
Or use God's name in vain
A place where children are not abused
Or molested in any way
A place of refuge that's free of fear
A haven where they can stay
A place like this cannot be found
On earth nor in the sky
So listen to conscience close
And hear the children's cry