Sunday, July 29, 2012
A Poem: Different Parenting Styles
To get the children's attention
Some parents may yell.
Are the kids hard of hearing?
I can not tell.
Some parents speak
To the children in a kind of hush.
Calling the toddlers
Cute names
And making them blush.
And when they are teens
Moms and Dads
Keep track of what they do.
Watch out teens-
There may be a "GPS"
Stuck on you!
Some parents
May close their eyes to pray,
And hope that their
Sons and daughters
Accept Jesus Christ someday.
No matter what style of parenting
No matter what Moms and Dads do,
Let's hope they don't forget to say
To their children
"I Love You."
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Junior aspargus
ReplyDeleteShoutouts to nitin
ReplyDeletenice poem. i loooooooooooove it.
ReplyDeleteNNNSNJKSDNSBCjnsdjvcnljhzdbljdblhzdbvljdhbvojsfb vjhsbvlkjdsbvljhdsfvbhjlhbjavvssvdsv
ReplyDeleteCHITIN
ReplyDeletedude aryan your so cool
ReplyDeleteTHIS POEM SEVER:Y OFFENDS MY HINDU CULTURE
ReplyDeleteTHIS POEM SEVERLY PRAISES MY CHRISITIAN ISLAMIC ASPARAGUS CULTURE.
ReplyDeleteI HAVE A 109 IN ENGLISH GET FCKED
ReplyDeleteWHO WOULD WIN? JUNIOR ASPARAGUS OR NITIN
ReplyDeletePROBABLY JUNIOR ASPARGS
ReplyDeleteI THINK CHITIN WOULD RECK ALL
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteWRECK
ReplyDeleteT
ReplyDeleteAt
Two households, both alike in dignity,
ReplyDeleteIn fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
SCENE I. Verona. A public place.
Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers
SAMPSON
Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
GREGORY
No, for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSON
I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
GREGORY
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
SAMPSON
I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORY
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSON
A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORY