Flames
A burnt child loves the flame
Scarred with ugliness, such a shame
But within the fire stayed
Where the little hands lingered and played
The eye shift with the swift moves
Feeling the marred skin and its grooves
An anger that rises within
A hidden secret, a perfect sin
The mother did warn so vigorously
Keeping up the hate perpetually
The child doesn't listen nor care
Knowing fate and that it's so unfair
Burning, flourishing in waking heat
Whom fall to cold eyes in feverish defeat
poem by Chyna Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Would Do For You
The Mother looks into the eyes of her child,
With the love that is so deep and true
Then she hugs her child and loves her child,
And says, “ there is nothing that I would not do for you”.
She loves her child more than she does herself
She’ll places her child above all others
For the child she would die, And not even ask why,
As the child is hers, and she is the mother.
She knows she’ll will always be there for her child
No matter the pain or a reason why,
Just to see it smile or hear it laugh
It is the greatest joy that a mother wont hide.
She will follow her child throughout her life
That being the reason why she says she lives
The love is so great for a mother and her child,
That there is nothing that she would not do or give.
She thinks of her child constantly when she is alone
She knows no pain or discomfort when the child is near,
She is only here to make her child happy and wise
While hoping never to bring her child a tear.
I now look into the eyes of my wife,
The woman who I love with a love so deep and true,
As a mother loves her child, a man he loves his wife
And with her in mind I say, “ there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you”.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Inward Burning Fire
It's a dark path now - I don't know where it leads.
I only know you're not on it.
Insufficient light comes from the flame in my heart.
The fire you started.
This flame rages seeking fuel to burn and survive.
Give me some coal dust from your hair.
Just some green driftwood shavings from your eyes.
Your oaken wood hands warming mine - they're so cold now.
Better yet, an answering warmth
from the fire burning in your heart for mine.
Nothing serves to heal a dying flame as that meeting would.
But that's my fire seeking what will not be found on this path.
So, the flame turns inward to die out.
I hide the smoke.
It was always enough for you alone to know of this kindling within.
In the flame's death it must be secret still.
The fire consumes internally,
seeking out each memory hidden away.
Consuming every thought I ever had of you.
No one knows the fire's rage
until it turns to them and touches.
It will burn on inward
until it has devoured every memory, every feeling
with sustenance left in it.
It's a painful death,
but once the fire exists
it can only consume until it dies.
I know this science. I accept.
I accepted long ago.
The fire is so warm when first kindled.
Soon, I hope and fear,
only ash will be left.
The pain will be over.
I know I'll be cold but I'll rest.
As for now, while it's still burning,
I will make one vow.
I will save one tiny ember.
I will try to keep it warm and safe.
Just in case the path turns - and there you are.
And if a spark still remains within you too
this dear and dreaded fire can rise again.
Though more likely I know -
my little ember will serve only to remind me what warmth was
and burn my fingers.
poem by Meli Secret
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That child
Eight years old and already hate life
Abused by her adopted mother
Raped by her adopted brother
She is just a child and she cant be more.
The bruises on her back keeps her silent
She cries at night till the pain is numb
And when he is on top of her she drifts away
Away from body away from spirit.
Nine years old and it continues
To protect her blood brother from the same
She pretends nothing is wrong
For him, trying so hard to be strong.
She cared so much for her blood brother
She took his bruises upon her self
And he was only a year younger
And they both were just kids.
Ten years old and he still knows nothing
She must be the best secret keeper
Or just a scarred girl who doesnt want her brother to know
Either way she is just a child.
Eleven years old nothing changes
Twelve years old she is getting fed up
The nights when he would come in and do what ever
Forced to mature before her time.
Fourteen she tells her adopted mother
And adopted mother beats her and the girl knows not why
Is it because the mother doesn't believe her
Or does not care enough for her feelings
Sixteen she tries to runaway
Her aunt talks to her so she goes back
Seventeen she moves out and graduate high school
What do you know she graduate with honors.
Eighteen she joins the military
Her blood brother still knows nothing
He see her for her success and not her struggle
That is how she want to keep it.
Her childhood was taking
She just met her birth father
Knows not her birth mother
Her biological brother is all she has
At Nineteen she wrote this poem.
And still remembers that child.
poem by Tressa Carliss
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A Mother Child
A mother is a child
She is younger than her children
That is why she learns from them
She learns the value
Of overcoming sin
Temptation passes her by
Her Children are her mentors
She teaches them while
They teach her…… Perfect
A Mother loves her child
With her life ……. Nothing more
She is burdened by love
She cares, She loves
She’s our mother
We love her
A team of the greatest
A mother and her child
One can’t live without the other
They run a race
A relay
Her love powers her
She can over come
All things
Just dig a little deeper
They are the strongest
A mother and her child
Nothing can separate their bond
Emotions pay a truce
A battle can be mended
Strongly from their hearts
She follows a God
A being not be seen
And so does her child
Her child follows her
They make her feel the love
What more could we want
poem by Dustin Bennefield
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Her Open Relationship
You sleep with her.
She sleeps with him.
Together you live.
With a child bared.
Fight about what each other did.
Only to make it up at night.
You won't even take care of your own kid.
Not a single once of trust left alone with him.
Yet she doesn't care.
She works and sends the kid to family.
Thinking your crazy.
I know something she does not.
Another lie.
You never worked a day in you life.
Yet she doesn't care.
You blame it on a criminal record.
Yet she doesn't care.
Like a mother she needs someone to take care of.
You do drugs, and steal her savings for the child to pay for it.
Her revenge is humiliation of it in public.
Bare no false witness some would say.
Still together as you always were
Still together as you always will be.
No matter what she still loves you.
This is her open relationship.
I know this personally, for I told her the truth and she hated me for it.
I pulled her wool off her eyes as he was trying to get with three girls at the same time.
Still she doesn't care.
One was at my house waiting for him.
Such is the power of love so blind.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Never hate
I would never try to hate
Even if want to of late
Such is even bad idea to state
Even if that seals our fate
Mother bears child for none months
With all that love and care to bear burnt
She doesn't know about hared
She wants her child to be honestly to lead
Child is in new world with love again
Mother has born him with unbearable pain
Child won't forget in whole life about sufferings
Despite precious jewels given in the form of offerings
How come then love show the form of hatred?
Cast, color and creed may be certainly later on fed
That may never force an individual to be influenced
By any such propaganda if ever he has glanced
Hate is such philosophy that results form the failure of affection
Love remains at the center even with love lost action
Hate can't remain permanent heart even if you try
Lot many question may emerge and suddenly ask why?
Love has no parallel and many have tried
They had to resort to unfair actions and to be lied
To their own people for vitiating the harmonious structure
To take over the situation by jealous exposure
I salute to the wisdom of Dr. Nelson Mandela with insight vision
There is no doubt from any angle and remains firm with precision
Let us shut the violence and bid to curb the liberty and freedom
The hatred should never be allowed to raise its head sans wisdom
Love is natural and grown out of compassion
Hatred is unnatural and grows out of depression
To take revenge on innocent people who have nothing to offer
But to stand at loss like sandwich and undergo to suffer
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
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The guardian of the flames
Always there have been
something holy to me,
about flames
that comes alive suddenly.
It’s a great thing
to see flames spread
and to see yellow licking tongs,
consume wood
and to get heat, energy
and comfort from it.
At a time human existence
surely depended on
keeping the secret
of flames
and to make sure,
that the last glowing coals
do not die.
When I was a child,
my brother and me
almost burnt a hillock
and some residences down
by misadventure.
The more I tried to kill
the small fire,
that I started in the long brown winter grass,
the more the fire spread.
It’s a fact that my behind
also burnt on that occasion
from a hiding
with a old fan belt
and I learned quickly,
what the power of fire is
and how to act responsibly with matches.
Tonight I am the guardian of the flames
at the fireplace in the lounge
and I take care of the hot coals
and have to put wood on
before the fire dies.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Devil Music
They called him 'master'...
When he came.
To take them from the comfort of their homes.
Stripped of treasures,
And their names.
With nothing they could say,
And silent broken hope!
Forced to worship,
Strange deities.
And folks who treated them
Like they were beasts.
Some tried to flee,
The increasing heat.
But many found themselves soon in defeat.
The blazing burned their feet.
And the ones who ran were chased like enemies.
This fire...
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
Desired this fire.
To burn, burn, burn
Out of control!
Morning, noon and night
They'd call him devil.
And sang the music to him that he loved.
They would dance.
And together clap their hands.
This devil music kept them in a hold!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Yes this fire,
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
I said the fire...
It still keeps burning!
And it's blazing in a rage,
That's out of control!
The spreading flame...
Became higher.
So high it fixed in young minds,
Sold by the old!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burrrrrnin...
Out of contrrroooool.
'ssssyesssss...
Children! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The kind of love from the God
The child loves the mother for the care.
The mother loves the child as possession.
Suppose the God loves us, is His love
Like the child’s or the mother’s or else?
19.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning
When I look at you
I melt like a candle
You light a fire in me
What am I to do
I just hope I can handle
The heat and the smoke blinding me
This feeling, this fire
This burning desire
Is raging its way through my soul
And if you feel the same
Help me fan the flames
til were burning out of control
Burning to know you
Burning to show you
And Ive felt this way from the start
Burning with passion
I do hope its lasting
And its burning a hole in my heart
You kindle in me
A warm glowing feeling
A spark and a flicker of hope
Its more than a game
And like moths to a flame
Were drawn to its warmth and its glow
These embers of love
Are fueled by the notion
This could be an eternal flame
Consumed by the blaze
I fear its too late
cause this torch that I hold bears your name
Oh, and Im burning to know you
Burning to hold you
Its grown to a flame from a spark
Burning with passion
I do hope its lasting
And its burning a hole in my heart
Oh, Im burning with passion
I do hope its lasting...
Ive had so many dreams fall apart...
And its burning a hole in my heart...
Im burning
Oh, Im burning
Mmmm, Im burning oh, I burning ooh
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miracle
A Child was born
What happiness!
Mother too tired
Still in pain
But what's that? ! Hey!
Child in good health!
That is the Miracle!
Nothing of shame..
Beautiful Angel
First breast feeding
First glance, first smile
Frst call, first step!
All these are blessing
Memories that warms
Even the coldest heart
Lights any face!
That are the Miracles!
Nothing of shame..
But what about
Hardest times
When Child is
Sick and doesnt eat
Soo many worries:
Guess the cry
Is Child in danger?
Hurt? ..How? ..Why?
Your heart jumps out..
But when the child's
Getting safe, all right
That's Happiness! !
Nothing of shame..
Years past by
I'm afraid
The Child has gone
You find yourself alone
Can't, but remember
Everyday and smile of
Past Miracles!
Nothing of shame..
Worries still there
But not the same
Now find yourself
asking and wondering
Is the Big Child ok,
not hungry! ?
Does Child's heart happy?
Loved, it doesn't
Cry of hurt?
You'll never stop to worry
That's a fact
But miracles has gone
Remains the Fear
And the feeling Lone
No more miracles left
No moore..Is it or
Not a shame? ! ..
Now! Start to live
Live for self
Go on! Come
See miracles
again, this time
Done for nobody but you!
Say it:
Miracles for me!
See? !
That's nothing of shame..
Be Brave Go On,
Couse in the end
Your soul
Has always been
It is
And forever be
alone..
This earth this time
This world
Will never let you get
or find own soul fate..
No miracle left
No one to blame
Start to do one
By self, for nobody
But you
That Miracle too
Should not be
of any
Shame...
For me, anything can be a miracle, as long as brings a smile(*_*) lol
poem by Elena Sandu
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In A Perfect World
In a perfect world every child would have a Mom and Dad
All would have plenty to eat, no child ever to be sad
Mother's wouldn't be taking lives of their innocent ones
Young children wouldn’t join gangs and carry guns
In a perfect world there would be no war, no hate
All be brothers and sisters, before it’s too late
Would be guardian angels to all in sadness and pain
All could walk in love, no one ever to be slain
But this will never be a perfect world, many tears shall fall
Blood shall run in rivers, not much happiness to recall
Our loved ones murdered daily, loss of life across the seas
This is what our world has become, brought us to our knees
So much fighting, so much hate
Is this to be our ending fate?
By Dogs4donna
© 2009 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Fan The Fire
Maurice white, donald whitehead & wade flemons
**ohh its a shame
Its a shame its a shame
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Love is dyin today
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is dyin I say
We gonna fan the fire, come on along
Little children starving in a foreign land,
Talk about it brother
Man afraid to shake his brothers hand
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Woman in trouble callin but nobody cares
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
People denied the rights that are truly
Theirs
(its a shame)
*i believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Flame of love is about to die
Were gonna fan the fire, come on along.
Violence striking down great men of peace
Poverty in the homes and crime in the streets
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Kind-hearted people turnin to hate
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Mans about to destroy the human race
(its a shame)
(*repeat)
(its a shame)
(* * repeat)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(repeat)
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifesong
to a child very young
life is
happiness and fun
to a child getting bigger
life and school
seem to be getting bitter
to a child growing up
life and love
seem to be getting mixed up
to a child fully grown
life is about
making choices on your own
to a child with a child
life is about
making sure there life isn't wild
to a child getting old
life is about
keeping your family out of the cold
to a child old and grey
life is about
remembering the past things you used to say
to a child dead and gone
life was about
your one lifesong
poem by No Reason To Care
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Three And One
Sometimes she seems so helpless and mild,
So full of sweet unreason and so weak,
So prone to some capricious whim or freak;
Now gay, now tearful, and now anger-wild,
By her strange moods of waywardness beguiled
And entertained, I stroke her pretty cheek,
And soothing words of peace and comfort speak;
And love her as a father loves a child.
Sometimes when I am troubled and sore pressed
On every side by fast advancing care,
She rises up with such majestic air,
I deem her some Olympian goddess-guest,
Who brings my heart new courage, hope, and rest.
In her brave eyes dwells balm for my despair,
And then I seem, while fondly gazing there,
A loving child upon my mothers breast.
Again, when her warm veins are full of life,
And youth’s volcanic tidal wave of fire
Sends the swift mercury of her pulses higher,
Her beauty stirs my heart to maddening strife,
And all the tiger in my blood is rife;
I love her with a lover’s fierce desire,
And find in her my dream, complete, entire,
Child, Mother, Mistress – all in one word – Wife.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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?
A Mother
A mother shows the child the world
A mother is its world when small
A mother shows the child what's love
A mother loves her child like a doll!
A mother makes the home and bed
A mother cares for all at home
A mother trains the child to walk
And stand on own, perfectly talk.
A mother is the teacher prime
A mother moulds the character
A mother shows the child to pray
And trust the unseen God all life.
A mother is the child's best friend
A mother knows its needs and wants
A mother cares for child when sick
And feels so proud, when child achieves.
Children, thank God for a good mother
On ‘Mother's day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-05-12
poem by John Celes
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Mother, I May Have Been A Naughty Child
Mother, I may have been a naughty child,
But I am your child nevertheless!
You own the world, mother, you are the queen of the world,
And look at me, I go about in the habit of a beggar.
You are bent on neglecting me,
But I love you anyway, it is you, only you that I call upon.
Just as a child runs to his mother even after she has scolded him,
So do I run to you.
How could you push me away from you, mother,
You are my mother, are you not?
Oh, why did you cast me away, mother,
Leave me to play in the dust?
I would have been a better child,
Had only you been a little more kind to me.
I am sad and angry, mother,
I shall go away anywhere my eyes and my feet take me to.
I do not care now whether i live or die now, mother,
I am going away.
poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam
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