Song of Death
Old Woman Census-taker,
Death the Trickster,
when you're going along,
don't you meet my baby.
Sniffing at newborns,
smelling for the milk,
find salt, find cornmeal,
don't find my milk.
Anti-Mother of the world,
People-Collector -
on the beaches and byways,
don't meet that child.
The name he was baptized,
that flower he grows with,
forget it, Rememberer.
Lose it, Death.
Let wind and salt and sand
drive you crazy, mix you up
so you can't tell
East from West,
or mother from child,
like fish in the sea.
And on the day, at the hour,
find only me.
poem by Gabriela Mistral
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Related quotes
Breastmilk
Of craftiness and subtleness!
But if i have breatsmilk,
I will feed my child all day.
Like a caring mother who cheerishes her children,
I will feed my child all day long.
Your baby needs breastmilk like,
A woman after hwer own heart;
And you are a devoted woman of a higher rank.
Sisters, Mothers, Women!
Of the sweet smelling aroma of your breastmilk;
But the family in heaven is like a child with the mother.
Stand the test and be obedient in all things,
Give your baby food and forget about your phone calls!
For you are not my mother and,
You are not an African woman.
I know how it feels and,
I know who you are;
But feed your baby with breastmilk at all times.
Like a house without hands,
Give your baby breastmilk to keep the child healthy;
For out of the blessings of the Creator you've got this child.
The door is now open on you,
The truth is now set for you,
The care is now in your own hands,
But your child really need this milk.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I am that woman
I am the woman you cannot stand
I am the woman you cannot part
I am the woman who will f*** your brains up
I am the woman who will make you love
I am the woman who will make you so mad you’ll forget your name
I am the woman who your mother will love
I am the woman who will make your mates laugh
I am the woman who will make you speak all night
I am the woman who will make you go ballistic
I am the woman who will annoy you all the time
I am the woman who you’ll find irresistibly cute
I am the woman who will make you forget what you do
I am the woman who you’ll spend all day in bed with
I am the woman who will make passionate love like a beast
I am the woman who will get you out of control
I am the woman who will make you lose your soul
I am the woman who you will accept defeat to
I am the woman who will make you sad when I leave the room
I am the woman who will drive you crazy when we meet
I am the woman who you’ll want to sit all night and stare me sleep
I am the woman who you’ll hate and love
And I am the woman who you’ll never f***ing forget!
…and you know it’s all true….
poem by Evita Velvet
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Tommrow world
Today
Mother's
Not feeding
For child...
With the beauty..
Milk was given
The child...
Spoil the beauty...
Some body lie..
Emmaging too;
Not feeding
Mother's for
The child...
World bigest
Rong for;
Tommrow world..! ! .
OH!
Mother's please
Feed your milk
For the child...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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When a woman gives birth to a child, the child needs to be able to digest the mother's milk; but when this child is old enough to begin to eat other foods, there is some switching off of this ability to consume milk.
quote by Marvin Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death Of My Desire
Here my child
Rest your head on me.
Cos I'm the safest man you'll ever meet.
I'll tell you a story
I won't expect you to believe
About a boy who lost his reason to deceive
It's the death of my desire
While I grew up I hid behind a smile.
I was never allowed to be an average child.
And now the years have forced
me to be a man. I find I can't go
Along with this meaningless sham.
It's the death of my desire.
I want to find a new way
But I can't make it on my own,
I want a partner in crime
So I don't feel so alone.
So come to bed,
I won't disturb your sleep.
Cos I've a secret I'm determined not to keep
I see you understand my point of view,
You're safe because there's nothing I
need from you.
It's the death of my desire
song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The baby will never cry
I was waiting for this tomorrow
Since I knew the meaning of woman..
But today I feel it would have been better
If I was born in this world not as human…
From tomorrow I will be known as a mother
I will be able to feed my milk to my baby….
But the baby won’t be able to enjoy mother’s milk
As doctor said my baby is not like any other baby…
Tomorrow I will become a mother
A mother who will deliver a baby
The baby who will never be able to see this world
The baby who will never cry after delivery..
poem by Sumita Datta
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A Mother Does Not
A mother does not raise her child for to fight and die in war
Or to kill another Human Being in a Country from home far
That her son or her daughter should at someone else shoot to kill
A person they have never known or who have never bore them ill.
Picasso's 'Screaming Woman' is for all woman kind
The mother weeps for her dead child with grief 'out of her mind'
Mothers do not raise their children for to be remembered on War Memorial Day
For to fight in war for war mongering non combatants and throw their lives away
A mother raises her son or daughter so her seed of life will live on
That her genes will still be around when she herself has gone
From the World of the living to be numbered amongst the dead
I wish for my children to outlive me that's what the mother said.
A mother does not raise her child for to meet with an early death
Not for her War Memorial Day or the words 'Lest we forget'
She wants her son and daughter for to grow old and gray
And she does not wish to hear of War and War Memorial Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Mother
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is conceived nine months in the womb
the child that is cradled at daytime,
night time until dawn?
How can a mother forget her child?
How can a mother forget her child
the child who after the flow of months
has learned to stand and run?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child whose mouth imitates her mother`s tongue,
the child who after a year or two can say,
'Mama, I love you'?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is so dear in her own heart and mind,
the child that reveals the mystery of creation,
the beauty of growth and human interaction.
the infinity of our own universe
within its finite linear time?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Death Of My Desire
Here my child
Rest your head on me.
Cos Im the safest man youll ever meet.
Ill tell you a story
I wont expect you to believe
About a boy who lost his reason to deceive
Its the death of my desire
While I grew up I hid behind a smile.
I was never allowed to be an average child.
And now the years have forced
Me to be a man. I find I cant go
Along with this meaningless sham.
Its the death of my desire.
I want to find a new way
But I cant make it on my own,
I want a partner in crime
So I dont feel so alone.
So come to bed,
I wont disturb your sleep.
Cos Ive a secret Im determined not to keep
I see you understand my point of view,
Youre safe because theres nothing i
Need from you.
Its the death of my desire.
song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Of The Holy Object
Woman has been named as one of the holy object
She may have nothing on hand except one project
Fulfillment in life with or with heavy struggle
Life must flow on without any trouble
I see in picture a well defined woman
Not that she has nice company of man
Not well placed in life but as happiest female
That she might have got from male counterpart
She has every reason to look heaven in child
Rare occasion and all happiness to find
Woman can't be a full woman until have child
A beautiful world to live in and build
Whenever I find good couple on screen
I just slip in memory as if something divine thing is seen
Mother with child is rarest occasion to observe
A selfless duty and that too mother only can serve
What is there in world to see other than this?
We have nothing pay something like fix fees
You see it daily around but get no real glimpse
It gives lot of relief when you see feel no tense
The child may pick her mothers pulse
Even if said gently with no need to converse
I regard such phenomena as divine gift
Where you will never find in mother any shift
Roses have appeal and fragrance may be spread
It is felt by person but can never be read
Like wise motherly feeling is seen and felt
So is the fragrance in air is simply smelt
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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You Know The Score
(sylvester / clarke)
I look to the east and I look to the west
Trying to find a place where theres rest
You know where I go, you know its the same show
People turning their backs, not wanting to know
Look there son, youll find hungry mouths
Saying please feed me well Im only a child
All around youll find fallow ground
But you cant plow a field with a hundred missiles
You know the score
You know its war
Death and destruction
We gotta change it now
Lord only knows how
To turn it into more
Where have all the rainbows gone
Where where where
My, oh god, says hes seen better days
Where, where, where
Speak to me, lord speak to me, lord
Come on down with your fiery sword
Rid this place of all its hate
Show your face before its too late
You know the score
You know its war
Death and destruction
Death and destruction
Death and destruction
We gotta change it now
Lord only knows how
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death' is when 'You' milk 'It
'Death' is when 'You' milk 'It' and milk it, milked
and you drive it, forever and ever,
upward and upward and never down ward, insane.
Death is two silky hands covered in hot burning oil,
that start at the base and death loves to covers each lamp.
While the flame burns inside the brown paper bag exposed.
Pushing death deep without compassion through the pale
full moon, as death walks around, ignoring your cries.
Heaven for death and coming so close to death you find.
Death makes you come over to your friends house once
again, in your mind while those pearls in the bag,
are laid up on the shelf that you share, with deaths pink pig.
Death moves both horns closer, driven unforgiving together,
one here and one there, ever closer, untiring you are laid out as art.
Death knows when the sky is on fire, say it again and again.
Death and truth, death is like an epileptic seizure,
when more than those silky soft hands,
never moved all the way down,
and a river of hot molten 'death' sprays,
in your hair each black day.
Death is as proud..and as proud of you, Death is,
as you splash it around, all about town,
Death and 'Death's' protein mask so tight, you peel it off.
Death was just the tip of the ice burg and death melted it,
with death's thick and full, red buried, unyielding lips.
'You' love to have your fun with death, as you milk it over
and over, the milk never expires, death never tires,
and many,
many are deaths executions from death's weepy milked eye.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Child
Child,
God knows
how much I love you.
Child,
I may not be
the kind of mother
that you want,
I may not have given you
the kind of life
that you want,
but I'm your mother
and no one can change that.
Child,
you are so dear to me,
and all through my life
I wish nothing
but your happiness.
Child,
forgive this mother
for not having the strength
to protect you from sadness
of being apart
from your loved one.
But child,
I am more sad
when you cry for a man
whom I think
not worthy of you.
So child,
please bear the pain
because I believe
that somewhere
there is someone
worthy of your love.
Child,
trust me
you will find that man,
if you just set yourself free
from your wrong love.
Child,
I'm your mother...
I have raised you,
and I know
what is best for you.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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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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Mattering
I matter to weaknesses in my life,
These craters of joy are misspelt,
Like the enjoyment of a planet,
As we saw all that exists.
Let the world enjoy us at last,
Losing some of us in wars and battles,
Skirmishers must never have us,
Skirmishers must dine on their lice.
To find the geese is to find matters
Of the food and milk we eat and drink.
This fluid is milk and we are milk,
Filling our stomachs from too many cups.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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Love Will Find Out the Way
Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.
When there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
And will find out the way.
You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
A coward for his flight;
But if she whom Love doth honour
Be conceal'd from the day-
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.
Some think to lose him
By having him confined;
And some do suppose him,
Poor heart! to be blind;
But if ne'er so close ye wall him,
Do the best that ye may,
Blind Love, if so ye call him,
He will find out his way.
You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist;
Or you may inveigle
The Phoenix of the east;
The lioness, you may move her
To give over her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover-
He will find out the way.
If the earth it should part him,
He would gallop it o'er;
If the seas should o'erthwart him,
He would swim to the shore;
Should his Love become a swallow,
Through the air to stray,
Love will lend wings to follow,
And will find out the way.
There is no striving
To cross his intent;
There is no contriving
His plots to prevent;
But if once the message greet him
That his True Love doth stay,
If Death should come and meet him,
Love will find out the way!
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Song For A Good Son
A summers day so long ago
A thousand boats dancing on the bay
I came to you inside a dream
We both held hands and fell into the water
You never claimed to know me well
The dark-eyed son, the privileged man
You fond me bitter, you thought me cold
Well now Im gonna make you understand
My mother died, my father cried
He left me lonely by the waterside
Waterside so deep and wide
If I follow, maybe I will find her
Beyond the salt and spray
The current carried her away
Beyond the salt and spray
The current carried her away
I cant outrun my destiny
Tell me who will sing a song for me
Darkness darkness cover me
By my own hands the way it has to be
My mother died my father cried
You will find me by the waterside
Waterside so deep and wide
If I follow, maybe I will find her
If I follow, maybe I will find her
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Mountaineer
they do not climb mountains for fun
they live there
eating bananas for breakfast
no fish
it has become too expensive
like the pinch of salt that now they can hardly afford
no chunks of brown sugar
used to have some
dinner is uncertain
and supper is still a possibility
with herbs and
stolen potato
and some edible frogs and
worms
the children are thin and uneducated
the father is lean
and has no means of livelihood
except to climb the mountains
find the forest
and by luck still find some honey and yam and roots
and small snakes
no wild animals to eat
they are all shot by game hunters in uniforms
and the mother
is bloating six months pregnant
for her
12th child
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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