#childrearing - Hello Poetry

We'd never call them losers Because they couldn't stand; We'd lift them up from off the ground On worn out knees and hands. We'd never call them fools Because they wouldn't talk; We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds, And they did it as they walked. We heard a blend of sounds spew forth, Like spilled out alphaghetti; They roared with oral prowess, Like lions on the Serengeti. As years passed, and they were graded (And most certainly not by us); They might return with D's and E's, We'd never judge or fuss. This is how we treated them, Our children that we raised; I hope that our puzzling world Will forgive, forget and praise.

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Jan 6, 2025

Jan 6, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC

francie-lynch

Forgive, Forget and Praise

We'd never call them losers Because they couldn't stand; We'd lift them up from off the ground On worn out knees and hands. We'd never call them fools Because they wouldn't talk; We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds, And they did it as they walked. We heard a blend of sounds spew forth, Like spilled out alphaghetti; They roared with oral prowess, Like lions on the Serengeti. As years passed, and they were graded (And most certainly not by us); They might return with D's and E's, We'd never judge or fuss. This is how we treated them, Our children that we raised; I hope that our puzzling world Will forgive, forget and praise.

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Who would call them losers Because they couldn't stand; We lifted when they moved about On worn out knees and hands. We didn't call them fools Because they didn't talk; We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds When they stood free and walked. We heard a blend of letters spew Like spilled out alphaghetti; Raving with their oral prowess, Like roars on the Serengeti. As years passed by, and they were graded (And most certainly not by us); They might return with D's and E's, But we never judged or fussed. This is how we treated them, Our children that we raised; I pray that our changing world Will forgive, forget and praise.

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Sep 30, 2021

Sep 30, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC

francie-lynch

Forgive, Forget and Praise

Who would call them losers Because they couldn't stand; We lifted when they moved about On worn out knees and hands. We didn't call them fools Because they didn't talk; We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds When they stood free and walked. We heard a blend of letters spew Like spilled out alphaghetti; Raving with their oral prowess, Like roars on the Serengeti. As years passed by, and they were graded (And most certainly not by us); They might return with D's and E's, But we never judged or fussed. This is how we treated them, Our children that we raised; I pray that our changing world Will forgive, forget and praise.

20

I recall the day, before she was five, She asked to go, and play outside. I answered, Yes, for awhile; For I read his poem, about the road, The travails she'll face far from home. At our door I watched her play, And saw the roads lead her away. There'll be times she's on her own, In a one-on-one, or in a throng; In places where she won't belong; Or find herself between right and wrong. Yet, I untied the knot, Dropped the tether; as a father, I knew there'd be tools to hone, Wits to sharpen, boards to carry, An ax to edge on her whetstone. There was work to be done. If all goes well, If I got it right, It won't matter Which path she roams; She'll always know Which lead her home.

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Aug 20, 2018

Aug 20, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC

francie-lynch

Toolbox

I recall the day, before she was five, She asked to go, and play outside. I answered, Yes, for awhile; For I read his poem, about the road, The travails she'll face far from home. At our door I watched her play, And saw the roads lead her away. There'll be times she's on her own, In a one-on-one, or in a throng; In places where she won't belong; Or find herself between right and wrong. Yet, I untied the knot, Dropped the tether; as a father, I knew there'd be tools to hone, Wits to sharpen, boards to carry, An ax to edge on her whetstone. There was work to be done. If all goes well, If I got it right, It won't matter Which path she roams; She'll always know Which lead her home.

23

My name's Aine, I'm just two, I'm not nearly old as you. I can't even tie my shoe. But today, All by myself (OK, I had a little help), But I sat on my ***** Just the same, And peed and pooped Like it's a game. Tomorrow, I think, I'll do it again, In my velcro shoes.

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Feb 7, 2017

Feb 7, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC

francie-lynch

Fall From Eden

My name's Aine, I'm just two, I'm not nearly old as you. I can't even tie my shoe. But today, All by myself (OK, I had a little help), But I sat on my ***** Just the same, And peed and pooped Like it's a game. Tomorrow, I think, I'll do it again, In my velcro shoes.

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