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Caleb Stevens Nov 2017
Life goas quick,
Death comes quicker.
By the time I open up to page one,
I'm in twelfth grade getting my diploma.
Another second passes by and I'm burying my mother.
Another hour,
My wife walks into the room.
One day passes on this speeding line,
Years of my life fly by.
Wife's in the grave; kids forgot me.
All I can do is wait.
Wait for death to come quicker.
Life is a straight line,
Not circle.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Christmas gifts in cheerful wrappings
Christmas trees with all the trappings
Hoping Santa got your letters.
Yummy family get-togethers.
Nobody wants to go to bed
To let sugarplums dance in their head.
Christmas time is for yearend fun.
The holidays are here for everyone.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Some places people go outside and sled
And other people go to the beach instead
But not until they have stopped to see
Each present under the Christmas tree.
"Thank you" is said to all the gift givers
Then a wonderful meal they eat together.
“It’s A Wonderful Life” is showing on TV
And Charlie Brown gets a Christmas tree.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Traditions like stockings with the names
And sometimes hilarious family games
Especially when relatives come to call
With eggnog and cookies consumed by all.
If there is snow or palm trees and sand
The best of times have been planned
So everyone can share the great cheer
Now that Christmas at last is here.
Glenn Onebene Nov 2017
You are a ice cream that has a cherry on top
You are like a cozy blanket in a house
You are like a heart in the sky that is beautiful
Combine all of them together
It makes a ice cream that is wrapped in a blanket that is in the sky that is beautiful

I love you daddy
I told her i had been writing poems and she wrote this for me...
JBH Nov 2017
Dad.

You forced me to become a man when I wanted to stay a child and I am thankful

You told that life is hard and no one cares if you suffer and if you struggle
And I am
thankful

You showed me life is a dark and unforgiving place and you thought me about heartbreak and loss
And I am
Thankful

You also showed me the countless mistakes I have made and are probably going to make so that I may learn from them and for that I am thankful

Mom.
You protected my childhood innocentness when all of the world grew up and I  am
Thankful

You comforted me when the tuff Times stood outside the door and I am thankful

You were my light when dark thoughts  and heartbreak filled my mind I am
Thankful

You showed me all the good things I did in my life and you showed me all the things I still may do and I am thankful

Parents.
Together you showed me in two very different ways how to not only survive but thrive in this ****** up place called life

You showed me how to keep my hands and feet inside at all time and just enjoy the ride the ride of life and for that I am not just thankful but



It's for that,that
                  I love you with all
                                  I
                              Have
Dedicated to my mom and dad
Star BG Nov 2017
Kids are kids.
They are the little blessings
born to expand smiles
and open the caretaker heart.

They are nibble little beings
?a small sculpture
to be carefully tended to
with loving arms.

They are little masters
inside a small form
so be sure
to nurture their innate  
gifts.

They are gifts
filled with divine energies
sent with stork of Gods vibration,
here infused with grand visions
for humanity.

Kids they are the future of mankind
so treat and teach them well
with the power of love.

The rewards is...
a world
of peace and harmony.
Inspired by a place called Kids be Nimble, in Yonkers.
A place that nurtures the sacred child.
Mari Carrasco Nov 2017
Sometimes I wonder if my existence is at all valid,
I remember sitting on the bathroom floor at school with my then best friend and staring at the tile that surrounded us.
I thought about all the kids before us who have walked on this tile, escaping responsibilities, escaping teachers.
I thought about how absolutely insignificant that moment in time was,
how my plaid skirt and that unforgiving burgundy polo would later on refuse to bear witness to the things said and heard in that bathroom.
The mindlessly boring and insensitive ramblings of two teenage girls sulking on a bathroom floor made no ripple in the atmosphere.
The moment and the memory were gone as soon as they left.
If this trail of lost friendships and missed opportunities for significant bonds has taught me anything,
it’s that everything falls apart one way or another.
Poetic T Oct 2017
I have a graveyard of less fortunate
           Halloween jests that failed
                            to breath deeply...

Every year, I pick one, not so young..
                   but those of later age..
ones stealing the youth of kids..

They are past their sell by date..
                     Gooey centres now stale,
I do this for the young,
                I'm a ghoul hunting monsters.

I see past your masks, below the masks of
                    mistaken trust.
I do this for the young,
             Safe now your buried deep..

Its a night of monsters, but some are real.
                     But never fear,
            those monsters are buried deep.
Never to haunt an innocence's dreams..

On Halloween I go a hunting...
                   giving candy to energetic smiles
      but others I do wrap in the earth for keeps..
Abraham Esang Oct 2017
These kids were guaranteed a superior life. Some picked up this.

This is the narrative of the numerous who did not. It is told from a girl's perspective.

No bitterness filled our adolescence days, my folks did their best to raise

their posterity in a climate of care.

We knew they both were English conceived, transported from an existence miserable,

ousted into a halfway house stark.

A stage they'd needed to repudiate, so till this day we had not known

what they and different transients needed to endure.

A mission by some for reward implied ventures to conclusion could start,

with governments and individuals more mindful.

For tribulations of the past, 'Conciliatory sentiments' have come finally

to casualties whom society denied.

Overlooked once they'd left their field, this descendants of country's poor,

no follow up to perceive how they'd survived;

no enthusiasm for these adolescents' predicament – put out of mind when beyond anyone's ability to see –

the balm of greener fields very much plotted.

Two issues understood by their expel. To help grow, the English fashioned

an arrangement affirmed and shrewdly thought up.

For individuals attempting to survive – no aid to keep their young alive –

this offer appeared the solution to their supplication.

They marked their kids to the plan, surrendering to bait of dream,

"They'll 'ave a superior possibility at life down there."

One hundred thousand crossed the ocean, far from home and family

entangled into the predetermination they'd share:

for probably the first time they'd gone, at that point they were lost, quite recently throw away like deny hurled,

also, the individuals who endeavored to contact them confronted give up.

Survival turned out to be lifestyle, these kids compelled to endure strife

created codes of comradeship to bond.

The feeling of mate ship loaned relief, simply small solace to soothe

the weight of facade that each had wore:

for expulsion to south of Earth persuaded them that they had no worth,

conveyed questions and fears excessively crude, making it impossible to ascend past.

Their stoic activities planned to conceal feelings covered somewhere inside -

the requirement for affection, with nobody to react.

The injuries of the evenings alone, far from all that they had known,

apprehensive and detached, set apart,

while during that time of steady drudge at dairy tasks and working soil,

depleted youngsters combat from the begin.

What sins had brought deserting? No news from family or letters sent,

as mail was screened for wrongs it may confer.

Unpaid-for work, benefit based, saw fundamental tutoring soon deleted -

overlooked, similar to the torment inside the heart.

The stories that were never heard, mishandle by discipline and word,

the pole of iron used to keep control

by gatekeepers yet inadequately instructed, responding to their dread, troubled,

lost, and very unsuited to their part.

Cruel hardship ruled through ruthless measures unexplained

to kids deprived of poise. Some stole

the remainders of their confidence with acts more unsafe than disregard -

debased *** that wracked the very soul.

Too long kept secured, concealed ills, with fear and blame such wrongdoing imparts –

refusals, casualties frightened, staying stupid.

Presently at long last the quiet breaks, affirmation of past oversights

uncovering embarrassments unbelieved by a few.

Oh dear, my Father's not any more here. Those times of hardship and of dread

had made his psyche and body capitulate.

In any case, Mum is remaining close by, she's stood up, reestablished some pride,

she's demonstrated the valor that can overcome.

To state we're sad's only a begin to alleviate unsettling influence of the heart.

No word, or deed, or store can adjust

for absence of home and family rights, for work-filled days and dread filled evenings -

this token is too little come past the point of no return.

But my mom feels finally, through acknowledgment of the past

- contrition for the disgrace that was their destiny -

that injuries now cleansed and opened wide, not left to putrefy somewhere inside,

may mean her tormented bad dreams can subside.

Overlooked youngsters - youth lost, still scarred and hurt, awful cost,

spurned, banished, and by all scolded.

To push forward's their exclusive course, on past lament and profound regret,

the revulsion of their childhood should now be recorded.

Bad form has been exposed. My mom's petition is this may

keep the bitterness of some future kid.

Maybe remorse, cruelly earned, may imply that lessons have been educated -

also, with this expectation in heart, my mom grinned.
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