Sonnet: My Childhood
I was not born with a fortune wholesome;
Born nor was I, as the only son-child;
Who cares if you are learned and handsome?
This world cares for only wealth that is piled!
Eighth son I’ as born of a teacher father;
Honest, he was but never worldly-wise!
So lucky was I, having a good mother;
The best education, they gave as prize.
I loved to work hard and do my duty;
Rest was assured; God only was my Friend;
I could not become rich- what a beauty!
This was the way, my life I yearned to end.
God gave me a great reward- that’s His Lute!
I was to play it like a Bard so cute.
poem by John Celes
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Born To Be Loved By You
Borne again.
Because have you at just being borne again.
At last I feel that Im alive and more.
This is the moment Ive waited for.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Born to walk with you.born to talk with you.
I was born for you.
Born to be with you, only you.
Born to be loved by you.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born to be loved by you
(you and only you) born to be with only you.
I look at you and all at once I know that dreams come true.
For there you are the other part of me.
I have found my destiny.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Right or wrong for you.weak or strong for you.
Faithful or untrue
Born chained forever and far beyond.
Born to be loved by you and only you
No one else will do.
Heart and soul,born to be loved
Born to be loved.born to be loved by you.
(you and only you,born to be with only you)
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby..
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Is Sweet Any Day Of The Week
A child that's born on a Monday
holds beauty in sight and mind.
A child that's born on a Tuesday
is graceful, sweet and kind.
A child that's born on a Wednesday
is a treasure, so they say.
A child that 's born on a Thursday
sees a quest with each new day.
A child that's born on a Friday
is loving and freely gives.
A child that's born on a Saturday
shows great work through how they live.
A child that's born on a Sunday
is happy, carefree and gay.
I guess you could say that a child is
special, no matter what the day.
poem by Christine K. Trease
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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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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X’mas
Born was a child in a manger;
Born was the son of God, the Father;
Born was the love of the Maker;
Born was for men, a Redeemer.
Born was a baby boy, a king;
Born was on earth a prophet great;
Born was the love of God in human form;
Born was a Messiah.
Born was a son of a carpenter;
Born was the king of Jews;
Born was the living God as flesh;
Born was a Savior.
Born was a babe, who brought,
Joy and peace to the world;
Born was a babe on a bed of hay,
As angels choirs kept singing on.
Born was the spotless Lamb of God
Who was to die on the cross;
Born was a divine child,
From the Virgin Mary’s womb!
Born was Lord Jesus Christ,
Who paid the price for our sins,
And by His death and resurrection,
Made it possible for sinners too,
To go to Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-2006
poem by John Celes
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You Are The Mother Beneath Our Wings Dedicated to my mother who thought she had nothing to give-but gave the wisest things!
You are the mother beneath our wings, born into poverty brought us the
wealth of many kings, When you art young and don't have anything, you rely on
your Mother to give you everything, For a poor mother who had nothing you gave the
wisest things, You are the Mother beneath our wings.
Being poor was a rich experience for us and heartbreaking for you
You planted many seeds and nourished your ten kids needs
You gave us the wealth of may kings-coming from poverty taught us many things
The way you loved your life, being the kissin' bandit's wife
We were dirt poor, but it wasn't all bad
If material wealth as all we had-We wouldn't appreciate life and be thankful for what
we have. What you gave was unique, prized above material things
To each child special gifts you did bring
We were never too poor to give something-when you think you can't give nothing
You van give the wisest things-The love you gave will be treasured more than anything
When the trumpet blows and you rise up to meet your king
REMEMBER the lilies blooming in spring and that you gave your best in EVERYTHING!
poem by Miriam McKee
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A Tribute To My Revered Father
My Father was a great teacher,
Good husband to my good Mother;
He taught his pupils very well;
In an old house, did he dwell.
Well he reared his children seven!
Lived for up to eight times ten;
His forehead sweat fell on the soil;
My Father so well, did he toil.
A man who possessed great talents;
And honesty par excellence;
Cheap Politics did he eschew;
This world hath seen but very few.
He lived in humble conditions;
A law-abiding citizen;
He gave us good education;
And raised us well in religion.
He’as born and bred in piety;
And rose in popularity;
A logic-man, Philosopher;
None could him well decipher.
A versatile man, Orator;
He tried to make a new order;
Oppressed, he died with plenty peace;
Yet in god, he lived in ease.
His learning to him was his wealth!
Together with his body’s health;
And she was great too, my Mother;
Who well-supported my Father.
A human ‘immortal’-being!
With yeoman-service worth seeing;
He loved the poor and downtrodden;
That fetched him place sure in Heaven.
But one day when he died, I cried!
By Heaven’s words, he did abide;
God-fearing, undaunted, he left;
For his great soul, a lot I wept.
I see him as a bright new Star!
In the night-Sky clearly, afar;
Oh what a great man Father was!
Truthfulness was his greatest cause.
Fondly dedicated in loving memory of my beloved father
Shri. A.T.Antoniswami M.A., L.T., Coimbatore
poem by John Celes
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My Story
I was born in a year
Of a great depression,
.
My parents were born here
A life made of deprivation,
.
Dave, gave me my name;
By instructions of my mother
.
My mother told me all about
My runaway father,
.
My mother did her best
To bring me up better,
.
My mother told me
I would be a leader
- a speaker
- a fighter,
.
I left my mother' s home
To search for survival,
.
Sam said I have become
A great photographer,
.
I have a craving for the arts
And poems that don't rhyme.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Pleas of a Babe from the Womb!
Oh, daddy, can you hear my voice?
To be your child was just God’s choice;
Allow me please to make first noise,
And God will add to you both, joys.
Come to my rescue, dear father;
Permit me to be born, mother;
I long to see the world God made,
Like you, before I start to fade.
Oh, mummy, am I unwanted?
My pleas to you go ungranted;
The love of God put me in here;
The love of man, I see nowhere!
I beg of you, my parents two;
I am your very own child too;
I am your flesh and blood also;
Give me a chance to see both, oh!
How unkind can my parents be?
I am like them in ways every;
God grant them sense to allow me,
To be born well, like them freely.
God gave me life;
God gave me a soul;
God made me too whole;
But I’m afraid, my thread of life,
May get the knife!
Dedicated to all unborn babes;
‘May their souls rest in peace! ’
'May God forgive their parents' sin.'
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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Born But a Little Child
He who spoke the world into creation
He was born but a little child
With love so meek and mild
His birth brought the world a new elation
Was born to die to save all the nations
He was born but a little child
With a precious glowing smile
Was to become the church’s foundation
He was born but a little child
To reclaim the fallen world for His own
He was born but a little child
He came that true love, through Him, could be known
He was born but a little child
To take on our sins, and for them atone
((May 31st,2003))
poem by Danny Speicher
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The teacher
The teacher must know
As Plato once
Well said it
Years ago,
A teacher is but a midwife
But the disciple
The student
Is still the one who
Gets himself
Impregnated with
Ideas
The teacher simply helps
In giving the birth
Of the ideas that
The student must himself
Conceive
When the ideas are born
The teacher cares for them
Newly born babies
Now having exciting lives
Of their own
The teacher watches them
Very well pleased,
Excited for something new
Greater than himself,
Rising above
Almost all else, then the teacher
Claps his hands & then
Happily dies,
His mission is accomplished.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Born To Be Lucky
Some people are born to be lucky,
having riches and wealth by the score.
There are others born to be lucky,
and have a wealth of friends evermore.
The question now arises,
which person would you want to be?
If you choose money,
what kind of life would you see?
You would never want for anything,
and friends you might have to buy,
to be at your beck and call,
but they might all disappear if you suddenly fall.
Now just suppose,
you chose the other life
what would you see?
A league of smiling faces,
with arms outstretched to save you,
in case you were ever to fall.
So if I were born to be lucky,
the second choice I would choose,
Friends to be at my side, by choice and not for pay.
Because I’d know if I came across fear,
a pair of helping hand would be close by,
to help me to steer clear.
So I ask again,
which one would you choose?
Only one as you can’t have both.
Would it be a wealth of money, or a wealth of friends?
The choice is always yours my friend.
Choose very wisely as you will have it until your dying day.
24 May 2007
poem by David Harris
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Born To Love Me
Bob morrison
Not manyd say shes pretty cause they dont realize
That beauty is often hidden from anothers eyes
But in a quiet moment her beauty starts to shine
And every night Im thankful that shes mine
Oh-oh that she is mine
And she was born to love me in her gentle way
Born to love me each and everyday
Born to love me born to hold me tight
Born to love me everynight, everynight
Ive learned it doesnt matter what other people see
Its what I feel for her and what she feels for me
Shes made my life worth living because she understood
That love is made for giving, shes so good
Oh-oh shes so good
And she was born to love me in her gentle way
Born to love me each and everyday
Born to love me born to hold me tight
Born to love me everynight, everynight
Yes, she was born to love me in her gentle way
Born to love me each and everyday
Born to love me born to hold me tight...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Question and answer
THE CHILD
Father! Within the forest's bound
No bird I found,
No sound of song the woods around.
THE FATHER
The bird that glad his song us gave,
Flies o'er the wave;
Perhaps he there will find his grave.
THE CHILD
But why does he not wait till later?
THE FATHER
He goes where light and warmth are greater
THE CHILD
Father! It selfish seems to me,
Far off to flee,
When all we others here must be.
THE FATHER
With new-born spring comes new-born song;
By instinct strong
The better new he'll bring erelong.
THE CHILD
But if in death the cold waves swallow-?
THE FATHER
Others will come; his kin will follow.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Sonnet- A Most Wonderful Christmas
This Christmas brings with it especial joy,
Not all can get even in their lifetime;
Like Jesus Christ, is born a baby-boy;
To make your family-life, still more sublime.
0 thank the Lord, the child was born alright;
0 thank the Lord, the child was born with ease;
0 thank the Lord, the child has senses right;
O thank the Lord, the child has no disease.
If boy or girl, it does not matter much;
God's gift of yet another child is great;
On mother's birthday born- what magic touch?
Miraculous, an event until date.
Maybe, God plans to give you one more try!
So make merry but never must you cry.
poem by John Celes
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Lamentations of an Abortus
God knew me ev’n before I was conceived;
He blessed me to be formed wholesome in womb;
He had great ideas for me to do;
I was so eager therefore, to be born.
Just when I was all set to be born live,
I knocked the womb’s door. My mom did not heed;
I knocked for long and pleaded to be born;
How I wished to make my parents happy!
I longed to see my daddy and my mom;
I yearned to be fondled and kissed by them;
I loved to show the baby doll, I was;
My dreams were shattered: I was aborted!
Oh, mother dear, what folly had I done?
Did I ask God to be born as your son?
Was I not life like daddy and my mom?
I had been murdered for no crime of mine.
The love of God which formed me must be shocked;
How foolish men and women try to be;
They do not hesitate to kill their own;
How mean to kill the baby that’s unborn!
Forgive my mother’s mortal sin, O God!
For, if you don’t, she’s bound to land in hell;
Forgive my father’s iniquities, Lord;
Forgive them both; I wish they will REPENT.
O God, I pray to meet them in Heaven;
Shower your mercy on them both, O Lord;
Forgive them for their heinous crime and sin;
Control your wrath and forgive mom and dad.
This is my prayer to you Lord, O God;
This is my final wish for now, I’m dead;
Please spare my parents from your stern just rod;
Dear God, by devils, they were both misled!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-16-2008
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Birth of Doctor John Celes
Oh look, the eighth child, baby boy is born!
On Valentine’s Day of Christian parents;
And it is very early in the morn;
The babe is blue but princely full of sense.
And therefore he is baptized Celestine,
The second boy fills parents’ hearts with joy;
He’s John Celes, the Bard, who writes on sin,
Man, God and thinks great even as a boy!
Who after years becomes a doctor-bard,
And takes the literary world by surprise;
His Poetic venture is divine/hard;
Fast/great and voluminous in its size.
In thirty months, he is world’s Sonnet-King!
Through him, God has destined a greater thing.
9-26-2002
poem by John Celes
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Lord Of The Dance
I am the Lord of the dance
I dance beneath the sky
On a clear night
I can see the stars
Shining above the sky
I am the Lord of the dance
God rewards me everyday
I dance for my Lord
The sky is clear
The moon is shining in the sky
This is a beautiful fall night
The peace fills my mind and my heart
I feel at peace
It is good to know that God cares
I want to serve my lord with all my heart
I am God’s Child
I am gifted
God brings peace into my heart
I am the lord of the dance
He gave me peace
He gave me life
He gave me health
He gave me a spirit
He gave me a mind
He gave me a body
He gave me hope
He open’s my ear
And let me hear the sound of silence
He gave me eyes
For me to see more of him
I trust the Lord with all my heart
I am the Lord of the dance
I was born a Christian
And I will die as a Christian
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Do not be born good or handsome, but be born lucky.
A Special Child Is Born
He was a very special child, who was born in a very miraculous way,
He was born of a virgin on what was otherwise a very ordinary day.
For He was conceived by The Holy Spirit inside his mother's womb,
He was then born in a manger, because in the inn there was no room.
However, He was born a King and would become the Savior of us all,
This was not very obvious, as He was born among animals in a stall.
This was very humble beginning for the creator of the entire world,
Yet He brought a message of peace and hope for all of us to herald.
God spoke first to his mother Mary about the child she did conceive,
You shall give him the name Jesus and many in Israel will believe.
God spoke next to Joseph about the child Mary suddenly found within,
His name shall be Jesus for He will save His people from their sin.
And one day this little child who many people will come to adore,
Won't be lying in a manger, but be on David's throne forevermore.
The night that He was born the sky was filled with an awesome light,
And fear fell over shepherds who were watching their sheep at night.
It was an angel saying fear not, as I bring you good news to herald,
In the City of David a child has been born the Savior of the world.
Today Jesus who died and was raised to The Father's side in Glory,
Waits with Salvation for all who believe it's more than just a story.
(Copyright © 03/2003)