10/25 The Many Faces of a Child

Kids.
You gotta love em, or at least you should! After all, every one of us was a kid not too long ago - er, well in the scheme of things. Actually, I know a few folks that still qualify as childish sometimes!

So, we have these wonderful little creations that come in differing sizes, shapes, colors, temperaments. Some happily play quietly, keeping themselves entertained. Others pull our ear, or make us anxious, or keep us laughing. Others - well, some of our wee pumpkins are special in a special sort of way. They make some of us feel sad, or sorry, or uncomfortable. My mother used to say that children are the most acceptable of all human beings, as long as they can ask questions and are kept free of adult fears. Pretty sure she was right!

Look at the sweet pictures below. Allow your heart to open in a way of loving acceptance. Write from the heart . . . I'm going to attempt to:-)

Bev











Jesus loves the little children
all the children of the world
red and yellow, black and white
they are precious in His sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world . . ..

Bubblegum Pavements

I open my eyes
I open my eyes to darkened skies
To fear and loathing in my cries
Then whispers of laughter and breathless sighs
With shapes and sounds of lullabies
Has closed my eyes, to darkened skies
I close my eyes, in breathless sighs
I close my eyes, I close my eyes,
I close my eyes

I open my eyes
I open my eyes to sodden thighs
And the fear and loathing in my cries
This taste of milk brings on my hives
From touch and laughter, tears and sighs
I close my eyes with little hives
As mother dries my tears and thighs
The taste of milk and mothers sighs,
Has closed my eyes and brought on hives
I close my eyes, I close my eyes
I close my eyes,

I open my eyes and make a sound
I make a sound that's not profound
But enough to call my father round
He lifts and places me on the ground
“Make a sound, make a sound”
“Plenty of time to make a sound”
As mother lifts me from the ground
I close my eyes to mothers sighs
I made a sound , I close my eyes
In mothers sighs, I close my eyes,
I close my eyes


I open my eyes
I open my eyes and take a step
Had I stepped or merely crept?
One step and then another
To the open arms of my trembling mother
I step and step, then falter
I falter to her breasts and smother
I close my eyes to sounds of sighs
I close my eyes and smother
I close my eyes within my mother
I close my eyes, I close my eyes,
I close my eyes

I open my eyes
I open my eyes and take a walk
I take a walk on bubblegum pavements
With shapes in chalk, I take a walk
In harnessed rains I start to talk
Because I took a walk
To mothers sighs I close my eyes
I walked, I walked, I talked?

I close my eyes to mothers sighs
I closed my eyes, no babies cries
I close my eyes with smiles not hives

I closed my eyes, a child


© Robert Anderson 2012

I wrote and put on U-tube the above video after all the child abuse came to light recently over a TV DJ and presenter, Sir Jimmy Saville, who was a knighted member of the, British Order, OBE awardee??? It goes on and on. He raised countless millions for children's charities but all the while he was abusing the children he was supposed to be helping. It is now estimated that 300 people have came forward and still rising. He is of now the highest and most prolific serial pedophile in the history of the UK and maybe the world has ever known? The cover up has went from the BBC to an ex prime minister, Edward Heath the head of childline Uk, Esther Ranzen? It goes on and on and still coming to light. I had to write it with anger and from the heart.

Thank you Bobby, for both of these poems. One day there will be justice, there'll be no more pain or sorrow. But the anger can't be helped; when it's God's little angels that get caught in the cross fire of sin's evilness. You've taken me into a place I didn't want to go. It's okay though, because there cannot be silence anymore!

Write on, my truthful poet friend.

bev

deeply moved .........
...........stunned into silence.

..and ashamed I know not how to help...........................




.....best we teach these future children their own value and support them to voice at listening ears......

A bucket full of happiness
A wooden pail of joy
A cannikin of preciousness
no matter, girl or boy.
A beating heart of endless love
the innocense of smiles
ten tiny toes and fingers
That could play and walk f'miles.
So carry me a wee while
And watch me learn and grow
And cherish every moment
as we both rock to and fro.
Show me all your teachings
Support me as i learn
Allow me to discover
Make mistakes, and to discern.
And, with each day that passes
I will grow and in the end
We'll carry the pail together
A bucket of 'love' we hold, my friend..

Sweet Lucie:-) Oh, to be a child again - to play all day in innocence and possess a mind like a sponge:-)

Thanks for sharing . . .

bev

This poem was difficult for me to write. It's about my elder brother, Lee Scott, who was 13 months my elder. "Scotty" was born with a syndrome called hydrocephalus, meaning the motor part of his brain, the part that pumps water away from the brain, didn't work properly. Medical science has made much progress in modern treatment, but in 1957, treatment was crude at best. Scotty's head began to grow around the age of one year. He was unable to move or speak, so you can imagine why doctor's thought it best he be institutionalized. My mom was a nurse. She made the brave choice to keep her Scotty home. She attended to him until one cold day in late November, 1965, Scotty passed away. He never had a bedsore; his favorite record was Alvan and The Chipmunks; and I still miss him very much . . .



. . . Loving Scotty

He was small yet still as winter trees.
His wordless thoughts she could read
through his gazing child eyes plea
and capture mother's silent screams.
In all those times of routine
baths and exercises between perpetually
turning him to and fro,
and those gauzy, homemade 'tootsie rolls' -
her love for him grew free.

Time saw fit to grow so bold
his beautiful head, and like a yellow rose,
brother Mark and I were told
his head did the angels uphold.
We'd look upon his precious face
with smiles and laughing and loves embrace
and we never never supposed his case
forgotten before Father's throne.

Tiny tears and throaty gurgles,
he never ran with us in circles
but his saddened eyes would strive with us
in play just near his crib.
He was mother's child and our brother dear
and our unspoken, soaring prayers were near
on lips that only Heaven could hear . . .
for this child from daddy's rib.

© 10.27.2012 by BC Williams


.

This is hard topic right now but I will do my best

I open my eyes every day to see
the beauty of a child that surrounds me
she is noisy and loud
but I'm so proud
she is cute and sweet
so clever she has me beat
when I wake to her loud call
funny it never bothers me at all
I would never change a thing about her
after all she cuddles better than my teddy bear
I see perfection when I see her face
no matter her mood my heart beats a happy pace

JENNA! So great to see you here! I've been away for a long time too . . . life does get in the way. Your poem, as always, flows so perfect it's message is like silk to my ear. Lovely seeing your writing, and it's very evident how much you love your child. Thank you very much for gracing us with your words:-)

hugs, bev

Falling
A Daughter's First Love

Falling from love
Which you thought
Was divine.
Your heart pumped faster
Mentioning his name each time.
But he was never true and kind.
Just filled with all kinds of lies.
How could she have been so blind?
Her heart is melting
As I watch her fall.
But then wait,
Heaven calls.
By His grace your heart
Starts to beat because
He's holding you up
From the bottom of your feet.
The love you thought was
Perfect and true
Could only come from the Father who knew.
Your heart could be broken,
But then made anew.

Cheryl Jenkins Brickner 2012center]

Pete, I remember this beautiful little poem. How sad, and it's amazing how an adamant piece of clothing could conjure such hurt. Thanks for sharing this with us again . . .

Hugs, bev

Ah Cheryl, sure hurts to see your little girl hurting. Thank God, she saw before it was too late . . .

Hugs bev,

Hello little box looking at me,
will you tell what you can see

Pigtails, cuteness, smiley face
take my picture, capture this place

Then when we look back to see,
what I was like when I was three

Will you see what was concealed
coz Mummy wouldn't let it be real ?!

My happy eyes, non perfect pose
won't show the tear, running down my nose

I feel the grass, see mummy's smile
chew my lip and think a while

See I was running, then I fell
I screamed and cryed, that's how I tell !

My mummy stopped and said ''oh no'' !
''up you get, then walk slow''

Ok mummy, tears all gone
if I walk careful, can we sing a song ?

Gentle footsteps, on ''tippy toes''
No more tears, down my nose !



©by Sue McDonald............30/10/12

I have my hair in braids today,
don't feel like a smile

I have my favorite dress on,
though don't feel like a smile

I look at all the flowers,
as tears form in my eyes

I want my Nan to cuddle,
but she had to go and die.

I have my hair in braids today,
was Nans favorite way

I have my favorite dress on ,
Nan brought the other day

I look at all the flowers,
as tears fall from my eye's

I want my Nan to cuddle,
yet I have to say goodbye.



© by Sue McDonald.......30/10/12

Beautiful poems Sue! Funny how you are able to conjure a little story looking at these pictures. Great effort poet!

Thanks and hugs . . .

bev

the many faces of a child so many now they make you wild , some you want to laugh at some you need to cry, because some just as you see them have only a few hours before they die.

some you will have in family and you smile at every look, some you know they just not yours some you just mistook.
some children you give for every single day, beacuse they are your own loved child and you will always be there what ever the way.
others you see in the papers and you want to look away
as they are the ones of fighting and of wars that get in the way
ones that you cant even dream about nor want to any single day
but you just want to get on your knees for them ....and pray