Birth was something that came quite unexpectedly, and afterwards there was one child more in the house.
quote by Georg Brandes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mohammed
I am with your child and,
I am about to give birth;
For, this was the result of the love that we shared,
So, do expect your child very soon.
The arches shot from the wall at me and,
I managed to survive those attacks! !
And, i will surely give birth to this child one day.
My heart is merry because of your love! !
Oh, my handsome man;
So, do expect your child very soon oh Mohammed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Red Cow Speaks with Deeds!
Passing the slaughter house
The barber stops for a while
And he feels his previous birth
That he's a cow!
Now I cut the hair
From a child to an adult
Never do a sin
And the mirror knows
But no way to express her emotions?
When I use the razor for shaving
I'll be very patient
Specially on butcher's throat
As still I feel that enormous pain
And what he did in my previous birth?
(For Dorothy A.Holmes apwlts2 in gratitude!)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Birth Love
My love is like a birth
Happens once, once for a soul
Cute face and tiny structure
Loved by all as a child
Even I got the care and love
All the joys and happiness on earth
But only for somewhile and sometime
As a man passes his infancy and gets adult.
All I know is my love remains in me
As an infant child of innocence
As the essence and childhood memories
It comes before me when I think
Think of myself with them and her.
Going with Keat's and his dogma
Beauty is truth, truth beauty
Love is birth, birth love
This is all you know about birth
This is what you need to know of love.
poem by Abhimanyu Kumar.s
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Love is a dream that comes unexpectedly
Love comes in wild nights-
In wildest night of my dreams
When two hearts become one
And all my sorrows are finally gone.
Love comes like shooting stars.
One can wish upon his fate
To ask someone for a date
Awaiting her best responses.
Loves comes unexpectedly. And yes!
No one knows whether it's good or evil.
Sometimes love is honest, generous, peaceful,
Selfish, hate, painful, and ruthless.
Love is a dream, a beautiful dream
That comes unexpectedly.
You deserve it and yearn for it
That no one will ever question your heart.
Love is a dream that comes unexpectedly...
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Numbers
Its stranger how some numbers
keep recurring in our lives.
At first, we do not notice it
until one day we think of them.
Our date of birth, houses numbers we have lived in,
our children’s birth date
and our brother or sister’s date of birth.
When you look at them
and one number seems to readily appear,
you begin to wonder if that number
has some bearing on our lives.
The number linked to my life is number 8.
I was born on the 18th,
in Canada the house I grew up in was 28
and my sister was born on the 18th.
Moving to England our house number was 62.
When my wife and I got married,
our first house was 24,
our second house was 18
and our present house number is 107.
My wife’s birth date is the 8th;
my son was born on the 17-8-71.
Everywhere I look the number 8 just keeps popping up.
Coincidence I guess you could call it,
or is there something else a foot.
I will just let you the reader to decide.
3 September 2009
Author’s note.
The evening I wrote this, my wife went out, was talking to someone, and mentioned how the number 8 always appeared in our lives.
Coincidence?
poem by David Harris
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Nothing annoys a woman more than to have company drop in unexpectedly and find the house looking as it usually does.
quote by Frank Dane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Woman
I. At a time he dreamed about a woman
At a time he dreamed about a woman
and started longing after her
who at night stared at him
reaching out with her hands to him
but it’s only in his dreams that he see her
and when he closes his eyes she is there.
At a time he dreamed about a woman
and started longing after her
then he went into the wide world
trusting his friends with his secret
who scoffed at him, sometimes heckled at him
and he really wanted to experience her love,
at a time he dreamed about a woman
and started longing after her.
II. There is a day that he meets her
There is a day that he meets her
looking unexpectedly into the depths of her eyes,
when they gaze at each other for the first time,
both fall into love with the first greeting
and her lips are soft and sweet beneath his
and she embraces him with each gesture.
There is a day that he meets her
looking unexpectedly into the depths of her eyes,
and his friends warn him against danger
but her eyes are black like soot
and he feels silly like an impertinent child
cannot stop his feelings,
there is a day that he meets her
looking unexpectedly into the depths of her eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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It Wasnt His Child
(written by skip ewing)
He was her man, she was his wife
And late one winter night
He knelt by her
As she gave birth
But it wasnt his child,
It wasnt his child
Yet still he took him as his own
And as he watched him grow
It brought him joy
But it wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
But like a father he was strong and kind
And I believe he did his best
It wasnt easy for him
But he did all could
His son was different from the rest
It wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
And when the boy became a man
He took his fathers hand
And soon the world
Would all know why
It wasnt his child
It wasnt his child
But like a father he was strong and kind
And I believe he did his best
It wasnt easy for him
But he did all could
He grew up with his hands in wood
And he died with his hands in wood
He was gods child,
He was gods child
He was her man
She was his wife
And late one night
He knelt by her
As she gave birth
But it wasnt his child
It was gods child
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every House
Every house has a sun and moon,
And a little porcelain cup,
And a little silver spoon;
Every house has laughter and pain,
And feels the kiss of a needed rain.
Every house has a pet or two,
A cat in the tree,
A dove that coo;
Every house has a little mouse,
Lives in a hole he never comes out.
Every house has a window or two,
And some grass and trees,
And a sky that's blue;
Every house has a child that dreams,
As he plucks at raw reality's seams.
poem by Patti Masterman
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The Creator And A Barren Woman
A barren woman had been praying for a child for long,
Then after many years without hope the Creator heard her prayers;
Then the Creator said to her: 'A year today you will give birth'.
This is the story of the Creator and a barren woman:
A year after the barren woman gave birth to a child.
Now, she started to complain again to the Creator;
Because, she has no time to take care of the child.
'Oh, i am too tired of taking care of this child';
And the Creator was very patience.
'Oh, i cannot take care of this child any longer';
And the Creator was very patience again.
'Oh, i have given my husband a child but i cannot take care of him';
This child was a son and then, the Creator said to the woman:
'When you were baren you did cried out for a child but,
Now that you've got one you also crying daily for his upkeep';
'Well, the wants of mankind are many and mankind is NOT satisfied'.
Yes, we are all living on this earth;
With stories and the things that we see around us;
But mankind is really NOT satisfied, whether barren or with a child.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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When I was a child I had a best friend who lived across the road from me. When her mother died unexpectedly it was like losing a member of my own family. I think I am still affected by the memory of that loss.
quote by Margaret Mahy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother or Momma
A mother gives birth, but a momma raises a child.
A mother brags on how smart her child is.
A momma teaches a child how to live.
A mother gives her child a way.
A momma sets her child free.
A mother tells her child she loves him or her.
A momma shows her child that he or she is loved.
Now that you know the difference which one are you; a mother or a momma?
Sestina
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Today... 'Child
It was within a young virgins' womb
That the Child of God was given room
Because Mary the angels believed
Through the Holy Spirit she conceived
And wise men came with their gifts of gold
From distant lands the Child to behold
For to us the Christ Child was given
To show us the way to get to heaven
For this Child was the long promised One
Who came to earth as Gods' Only Son
This male Child she has given birth to
Came down to earth to save me and you
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
One Child, One Day
(gerry house, layng martine, jr.)
Three wise men, a shining star
A mother and a father who had come so far
How could they know about their son
And the miracle hed become
That he held the soul of man
In his tiny little hands
Chorus:
One child one day
And the universe will never be the same
From bethlehem
Cause the angels voices rejoicing in his name
Oh, and I believe with all my heart
That he will show the way
And you and I will meet
One child one day
A small white church, a mountainside
Cathedrals filled with music, and golden light
Oh, we gather everywhere
For the peace thats always there
For the story that is told
Of a birth so long ago
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In The House
We dont talk much
We dont make love like we used to
And I stay guarded
Ive got walls and triggers
I never thought I had
And so do you
But this is love
And thats the way we seem content to play it
I touch your clothes when youre gone
I let your scent wash over me
You cry at night and you wish just like a child
That we were how we used to be
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
I stonewall you, you stonewall me
But we both know that
Hiding deep inside us
Lives the love that we try hard to lose
And never will
But this is war
And thats the way we seem content to fight it
I get so angry and confused cause
I want out but I want you
You cant decide between moving out or moving in
You dont know what to do
With a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like you
And he looks like me
Is this the same girl that, I fought so hard to win
And now I fight to lose her
Now I feel that its just like skin to skin
And nerve to nerve
Strung out like wire
Is that the way we are content to live
We face off in anger
In rooms once filled with love
Looking for a chink in the armour
Where we can stab the blade
What are we thinking of
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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birth (Motherhood)
a child born with closed eyes
it was a new beginning of my life
people think a child is born
but ask me, i know a mother is born
people say that mother is precious gift of God
but ask me a child is God himself in her arms
before my child's birth my life was beautiful
but after his birth my life become precious
these are simple heap of emotions - people say this
fools! they don't understand the pleasure of being a mother
its just the same, when you see the diamond you praise its beauty
but when you own one, you come to know how precious it is!
- Pradnya
poem by Pradnya Pahurkar
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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King's Land
Stand thou forever among human Houses,
House of the Resurrection, House of Birth;
House of the rooted hearts and long carouses,
Stand, and be famous over all the Earth.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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