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Poems

Dear Mum and Dad,

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

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Dear Mum and Dad,
Do you remember the day I was born?
I guess since then quite a bit I have grown.
Drink milk, sleep and cry is all I would do,
And of course keep filling my nappy up too!
Since then things have changed and I’ve gone big now,
And I’m sure you’ll agree that its amazing how,
Allah turned me from a tiny baby who knew nothing at all,
Who might one day among fellow humans stand tall.
I say might because I’m a bit like a seed you see,
Nurtured well it has the potential to develop into a strong tree.
That has strong roots firmly anchored deep into the land,
So that the winds of change over time it is able to withstand.
Have you done that Mum and Dad nurtured me good?
And I don’t mean just to have given me clothes, toys and food?
As I said I’ like a plant I’m going to grow anyway,
But whether or not that’s a wild, straggly, useless one in that you have a say.
Allah has made you responsible to teach me what is wrong and right,
Of this sometimes it seems that you tend to lose sight.
How is it that you can shout at me for losing something new till your blue in the face,
Yet when I miss my Fajr everyday, of any anger, I see no trace.
When there’s a million things like the washing and ironing for you to do,
You stick me in front of the TV, out of your way so that your chores you can get through.
Don’t get me wrong Mum I do have fun, cartoons I do like to see,
But Mawlana at Mosque tells me TV is bad, so you don’t half confuse me!
I’m sure being a parent is a hard job, but there is help for you, you know,
If you follow the Prophet’s SAW example you won’t go wrong, that’s for sure!
Anonymous
Categories
Poems

Television

Roald Dahl’s poem ‘Television’ – written in 1964 when there were only three black and white channels which stopped broadcasting in the night time.Copy-of-Poems-1-1

Even more relevant these days:

The most important thing we’ve learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set —
Or better still, just don’t install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we’ve been,
We’ve watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone’s place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they’re hypnotised by it,
Until they’re absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don’t climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink —
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK — HE ONLY SEES!
‘All right!’ you’ll cry. ‘All right!’ you’ll say,
‘But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!’
We’ll answer this by asking you,
‘What used the darling ones to do?
‘How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?’
Have you forgotten? Don’t you know?
We’ll say it very loud and slow:
THEY … USED … TO … READ! They’d READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching ’round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it’s Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There’s Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They’ll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start — oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They’ll grow so keen
They’ll wonder what they’d ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

by Roald Dahl