Author: Mark Spencer
When I was just a kid I would play with my friends.
The kind of games children play, where everybody wins.
When we played the game of war, and got shot down with a gun,
Those who died in battle got back up when we were done.
But these are only memories I've locked up in my mind.
In a place where children go when games get left behind.
Now I've grown to be a man with children of my own.
And I will learn more from them than I have ever known.
I'll watch them when they're playing, all the games I used to play.
The world is their playground, and it's Christmas every day.
To them there is no black or white, and everyone's the same.
I only wish their parents knew how to play that game.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Martin Vann (18.104.22.168) -- Wednesday, January 29 2003, 08:27 pm|
Sometimes I find in this garden of the Poets, a poem that speaks such a simple fact, that it allows for no other interpretation. Like, if, you don't breath, you will die, that is a fact, this poem is a fact!
Thanks again Mark, you saturated this effort with KISS!
|LinzAy (22.214.171.124) -- Saturday, February 8 2003, 09:10 am|
what is KISS????????
Yes..i totally agree with Martin about the simple blatant message this poem sends out......
|Martin Vann (126.96.36.199) -- Sunday, February 9 2003, 07:48 pm|
Have you not heard the expression, Keep It Simple Stupid? = KISS By your comment, you seem to understand it, but never heard it, KISS that is.
|LinzAy (188.8.131.52) -- Monday, February 10 2003, 07:55 am|
Hehe.....ok! it all makes sense now!! lol
|Lori Ann Day (184.108.40.206) -- Saturday, February 22 2003, 01:04 am|
Isn't it funny? We don't oftentimes we don't learn to play the games that truly matter.
Click here to read other Poems by Mark Spencer
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