The Sea Took Pity
The sea took pity: it interposed with doom:
‘I have tall daughters dear that heed my hand:
Let Winter wed one, sow them in her womb,
And she shall child them on the New-world strand.’
. . . . . . . .
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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The Child in the Womb…
The child in the womb longs
To leave the darkness ’round,
And see the light of the world,
Created by God.
The child in the womb yearns
To breathe the lovely air
Of independent life,
Made by God.
The child in the womb wants
To move about with ease,
On planet earth’s terrain,
Meant for it.
The child in the womb waits
To show its cry of life,
And feel its mother’s warmth,
And parents’ love.
The child in the womb loves
To show its beauteous form,
That love of God gave it,
Free of cost!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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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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Child of Zar'roc
Child of Zar'roc
Born during the storm
Raining down blood
Striving on hate
Drinking the tears
Of those in pain
Poor child
Born of Zar'roc
Sheath your sword
And bow your head
Dont take the path
Thats set before you
Turn dear child turn
Run down the path of good
Hurry child of Zar'roc hurry
For fate may soon come
Crashing down on your world
I pity you child of Zar'roc
Truly I do
To be born in such a life
I truly pity you
poem by Janelle Morehart
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A Letter To The Unborn Child
A simple letter to the unborn baby.
Dear: Unborn child
just incase you make it to this world bear in mind that you are entering a world with no mercy a world with no heart a world where a smile its a greened face.
Dear child all of your beliefs should be wise. Human dont live forever. Ey even that same womb which gave you birth can turn its back on you even that guy who transfered you to be fertilised can turn tables yes i a talking.
Even that friend you grow with and trust wont be arround at all times when needed
yes it is still me
Dear child even that money that you chuck in your pocket wont protect you
not even that gun you will carry
not even that intelligence you have not even that church you go to not even that school you go to
dear unborn baby troubles arent supposed to be kept inside they destroy you.
That smoking habit
if i said too much you will tell me.
poem by Ernest Makuakua
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Daughter of my womb
Daughter of my womb
You've stabbed my heart so bad
You've killed the bearer of your life
Daughter of my womb am dying
My smile is but a frown
I have no idea whom I will crown
As the daughter of your womb
For you've sent them all to the tomb
My wrinkled hands needed a tender one
My closing eye libs needed to see before they are gone
The seed of the seed of my womb are no more
Daughter of my womb, you've killed the daughters of your womb
The medicine man in his robes
Administered the wrong root for a drug
Your womb is empty I have nothing to wait for
Why didn't you tell me of your planned atrocities before?
Daughter of my womb
Daughter of my womb
You've stabbed my heart so bad
You've killed the bearer of your womb
You've sent your seed to the tomb
You've dragged the generation of your womb
Daughter of my womb, you've killed us.
poem by Robert Abok
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To A Tulip-Bulb
SLEEP first,
And let the storm and winter do their worst;
Let all the garden lie
Bare to the angry sky,
The shed leaves shiver and die
Above your bed;
Let the white coverlet
Of sunlit snow be set
Over your sleeping head,
While in the earth you sleep
Where dreams are dear and deep,
And heed nor wind nor snow,
Nor how the dark moons go.
In this sad upper world where Winter's hand
Has bound with chains of ice the weary land.
Then wake
To see the whole world lovely for Spring's sake;
The garden fresh and fair
With green things everywhere,
And winter's want and care
Banished and fled;
Primrose and violet
In every border set,
With rain and sunshine fed.
Then bless the fairy song
That cradled you so long,
And bless the fairy kiss
That wakened you to this--
A world where Winter's dead and Spring doth reign
And lovers whisper in the budding lane.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Nativity
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod's jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
poem by John Donne
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Pity, pity, pity
Look at to the unwanted child
Look at to the divorced wife
Look at to the homeless man
What people do other than saying
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the tragic hero
Look at to the sympathized villain
Look at to the clueless victim
What witnesses do other than staring
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the crazy dreamer
Look at to the unlucky gambler
Look at to the stubborn fighter
What friends do other than whispering
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the withering flower
Look at to the starving animal
Look at to the extinct nature
What human do other than howling
“Pity, pity, pity”
Look at to the empty spaces
Look at to the blank faces
Look at to the lost traces
What devils do other than laughing
“Pity, pity, pity”
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Alaskan Balladry
Krinken was a little child,-
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, 'Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!'
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.
'Krinken,' said the maiden Nis,
'Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea.'
Krinken was a little child-
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him-
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.
Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,-
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,-
Summer, summer evermore,-
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.
Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His
fair face lifts from the sea,
His
dear voice calls out to me,-
These my dreams of summer be.
Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, 'Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!'
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,-
Winter, cold and dark and wild;
Krinken was a little child,-
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.
poem by Eugene Field
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Dear Parents, Don’t Abort…
If you had killed your sweet daughters and sons,
While in your womb, whom God allowed to live,
How could you be happy, just imagine?
–The sin and guilt could unleash hell on earth!
If you had wrought the anger of the Lord,
Through ruthless cold-blooded murders in womb,
And never felt remorse for your misdeeds,
The Maker’s curse shall be upon you soon!
How could you have the heart to take the lives,
Destined by God to see the world, He made?
How could you dare to disallow the birth
Of offspring, ‘Potter-made, out of sheer clay’?
Dear parents, don’t abort anytime please;
You shalt not take away the lives, God gives!
And if you rear them, God surely provides
Your wants, and makes you more blissful on earth!
Let Satan never play upon your mind,
And goad you to abort your unborn child;
Allow its birth and you will always find,
A joy divine, most-satisfying, wild!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-25-2010
poem by John Celes
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Throwing me away
As missing the world sent away
I begin beckoning
Missing the world
The boring world came closer one strand by one strand
That one strand and one strand pierce me
I just start to beckon, though
Since I can't hold my heart
I struggle toward that world with trembling heart
Until the whole world is mine
You have to be mine
poem by Chulsoo Kim
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Krinken
Krinken was a little child,--
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.
"Krinken," said the maiden Nis,
"Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea."
Krinken was a little child--
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him--
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.
Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,--
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,--
Summer, summer evermore,--
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.
Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His fair face lifts from the sea,
His dear voice calls out to me,--
These my dreams of summer be.
Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,--
Winter, cold and dark and wild;
Krinken was a little child,--
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.
poem by Eugene Field
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Hush Now, Child
Hush now child,
No need to say goodbye,
No winter song,
No gentle lullaby,
Be still now child,
You have no pain, no fear,
The time has come to pass,
This is your year,
Be calmed dear child,
For I stand by your side,
Don’t turn away now child,
We cannot hide,
Hold on now child,
Remember me with love,
And shine your light on me,
From up above,
And hush, now child,
Just spread your wings and fly,
No winter song,
No gentle lullaby.
poem by Linda Harnett
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The Still Borns Of Africa
we are still in the womb
swimming in the filthy fluid of corruption
we are still in the womb
battling to cut the umbilical cord of pollution
we are still in the womb
preying on the reminant of deprived relation
we are still in the womb
drowning in the congest world of deprivation
we are still in the womb
protesting against divisional segregation
we are still in the womb
exsalting the strength of voices calling for attention
we are still in the womb
reaching the spheres through screw faces and traumatic expression
we are still in the womb
paddling our ways through neglect and isolation
we are still in the womb
stirring gently towards the end of our active function
we are still in the womb of africa
waiting to be called the still borns of our mother
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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Walk Tall
The simple minded
And the uninformed
Can be easily led astray
And those that cannot connect the dots
Hey look the other way
People believe what they want to believe
When it makes no sense at all
And i wish you along the sideline
had the strength to walk tall
Walk tall
Yeah walk on
Through this world
Walk tall
Somewhere out in the distance
Is the death of you and me
Even though we dont think of it much
Its still out there for us to see
If you treat life like a bar room fight
Youll die stinking of gin
No drunkards are allowed in heaven
No sinners will get in
Walk tall
Yeah, walk on
Walk tall
Through this world
Walk tall
So be careful in what you believe in
Theres plenty to get you confused
And in this land called paradise
You must walk in many mens shoes
Bigotry and hatred are enemies to us all
Grace, mercy and forgiveness
Will help a man walk tall
So walk tall
Yeah, walk on
Walk tall
Through this world
Through this world
Yeah, walk tall
Then walk on
Walk tall
Then walk on
Through this world
Through this world
Through this world
Through this world
Walk tall
Walk tall
Then walk on
Walk tall
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God, Bless the Womb and Home
Empty not the womb!
Empty not your home;
God fills the womb;
Cradle the unborn too!
A child is love
From God above;
Love all children;
Miss not heaven.
Rock the unborn,
Night and morn;
Say ‘No’ to porn!
Avoid God’s scorn.
Murder in the womb
Empties such a home;
Every child, welcome;
Each Child is love of God
made flesh! .
Let the womb
Remain the home
For humankind,
Not tomb!
God fills your womb;
Joy fills your home!
God, bless each womb;
God bless that home.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9/11/10
poem by John Celes
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Stop Abortions
When you kill your own baby
In its natural home called ‘Womb’,
In a way most barbaric:
Aren’t you inviting your doom?
When you decaptitate child,
Who has committed no crime,
Can God forgive your grave sin,
If His judgment be called fair?
When you dismember your child
That is live, writhing in pain,
What a heinous crime you do
That’s inhuman to the core.
When you take the life God gives,
For no reason ruthlessly,
Won’t God do the same to you
In the measure that you make?
Woman, man, please do not kill
Your baby formed in the womb,
’tis just blatant homicide,
Most inexcusable too!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-7-2010
poem by John Celes
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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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Blessed be His Children
Blessed be a child of God
Who upon birth looked wide eyed
Who looked at his creation
And are humbled and amazed
Blessed be the children
Innocent and pure
For they know nothing of race
Religion
Sex
Class
Or nation
For they view each thing as a new miracle
O pity the children
Who left the womb
Who entered the world that feeds off sin
That teaches hate
That limps as it slowly dies
O pity the children
For they will not be pure for long
poem by Michael Silver
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Daughters
I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
Cleaning up the mess he made
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart
On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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