Dear children
Dear children
O dear children,
Imagination and dream of Jen
You are all so dear
Gems of an eyes and words to ears
"Divine gift "as we all say
For your birth we always pray
Go to churches and mosques for blessings
For divine descent in early morning
You are messengers and real hope
Without your presence life is on rope
The home becomes real one
Only when you cry with child's tone
No house can be called heaven
If that has not a single child even
If you want to hear His voice at home
Adopt one child if you don't have to welcome
They need care and proper attention
They are garden flowers and deserve our mention
They are our future hope and destiny
Of course a blessings bestowed by almighty
Especially girl child deserves to be cared more
As they are the one to be praised and adored
The universe expands at their cost and excel
We are here to take their care and speak well
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Divine Lullaby
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord;
I hear it by the stormy sea
When winter nights are black and wild,
And when, affright, I call to Thee;
It calms my fears and whispers me,
"Sleep well, my child."
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord,
In singing winds, in falling snow,
The curfew chimes, the midnight bell.
"Sleep well, my child," it murmurs low;
"The guardian angels come and go,--
O child, sleep well!"
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord,
Ay, though the singing winds be stilled,
Though hushed the tumult of the deep,
My fainting heart with anguish chilled
By Thy assuring tone is thrilled,--
"Fear not, and sleep!"
Speak on--speak on, dear Lord!
And when the last dread night is near,
With doubts and fears and terrors wild,
Oh, let my soul expiring hear
Only these words of heavenly cheer,
"Sleep well, my child!"
poem by Eugene Field
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
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The Child
From pillar to post,
Some couples go,
In trying to have,
A child of their own!
They go on pilgrimages,
And they pray to God;
They donate money,
Expecting a child!
They see horoscopes;
They see the stars-position in the sky!
They do repentance,
To get a child!
They see the best doctors,
And undergo medical check-ups;
Some go abroad
For gift of child!
Some seek the help of science,
And try the latest advances;
But only a few
Manage to have a child!
Some give up every hope
And adopt a child;
Some remain childless
Until their death.
God gives children to so many,
And denies the same to some;
Some foolishly abort,
Invoking wrath of God!
Some beat the child;
Some enslave it;
Some starve it long;
Some neglect the child!
God’s sends nature’s furies –
Floods, quakes, famines, diseases,
Destroying people
Who kill children!
Child – the gift of God;
Child – a miracle;
Child – the joy of mankind;
Child – progeny of the human race!
Child – the love of God;
Child – mercy of God;
Child – grace of God;
Child – blessing of God!
A child makes the family wholesome;
A child ushers immense joy;
A child makes life worth living for;
A child is a divine toy!
God gives a child with ease;
Man drives it to disease;
God makes a life anew;
Man ends most lives but few!
Why kill children?
Why maim the tiny tots?
Why abuse children?
Why destroy lives, God-made?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-18-2008
poem by John Celes
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A Child in the Garden
When to the garden of untroubled thought
I came of late, and saw the open door,
And wished again to enter, and explore
The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought,
And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,
It seemed some purer voice must speak before
I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,
That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.
Then just within the gate I saw a child, --
A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;
He held his hands to me, and softly smiled
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:
"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;"
"I am the little child you used to be."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Child face
Did you ever see joy on child's face?
When some comment is passed over his race
Cast, creed, religion or for ugly appearance
At least parents have told her that it is blessed by chance
Children look so innocent in early stage
Their smile fascinate us with age
They may laugh at us and demand
Break any costly things and loudly play the band
"Hi, how come your teeth have gone? "
The question was parried but some damage was done
The child was smart enough to reply with smile
"The teeth have made room for new style"
Some of the children may shy off and run away
They will cover face but not show it any way
This is an age where you can expect funny answers
Some of them may speak with language that can be understood by few
"Where from you have come in our home"?
I will ask my grand children for an answer to welcome
"Mom says that door was opened at night"
Doctor dropped us at your door, alright
Such type of answers pushes me to the corner of heaven
I have come across funny answers but visibly driven
They are blessed flowers on the earth from almighty
Even though they may look jokers and naughty
I wish them grow in their own way and liking
Let us be kind to answer them when such thing is striking
They should be convinced with what we are replying
Their mind is quick enough to grasp and honestly relying
I would love to hear their answers in any manner
They are quick to grasp but reply little later
They know how dear grand parents are
Some of them may be supporting from very far
I wish to be child at some stage
Entire life journey has made me weary of an age
The children in home make scene little entertaining
The happiness and joy sometimes may not be given by breeze or rain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Saddest Fate
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
To sigh for pleasures flown,
To weep for withered flowers,
To count the blessings we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have known them at all.
To dream of love and rest,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have loved at all.
To trust an unknown good,
To hope, but all in vain,
Over a far-off bliss to brood,
Only to find it pain--
What sadder fate could any soul befall?
Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Right To Know
The tiny child that lives inside
Deserves the right to know
That life would never be denied
While it had time to grow.
For life is sacred, sanctified,
God's precious one-time gift,
For which He must be glorified
When we our praises lift.
The tiny child that God prepared
Perhaps had much to do,
Perhaps with many blessings shared
With folks like me and you.
Perhaps an artist to be spared,
A doctor or a nurse,
Yet only if the people cared
To bless and not to curse.
The tiny child deserves no tears,
No blood shed as a whim,
No cutting short of future years,
Its destiny to dim
God spared my life to write my fears,
To voice my deep concerns.
God gave me hands and feet and ears.
Such gifts no wise man spurns.
The tiny child can't see the face
Of she who bears its form,
Nor can it know another place
To store it safe and warm
If it could speak, its thoughts to trace,
What wise words could it say?
'I am unique, I grow by grace
Don't throw my life away '
poem by Denis Martindale
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Wish from little girl
Wish from a little girl to all
With love and hope to male call
"Please don't make us suffer"
We are your child and very dear
We are little flower of garden
Trouble no one or bother any one
We come up of our own
Oh, as helpless daughter we are known
But never mind we can help a lot
Bring mental peace without firing a shot
Peace at home and every day welcome
You may be fully tired when back at home
We are undone from taking birth
Only god is decider of our death
You have now assumed that role
Liquidator, butcher or whatever name to be called
We have only one request to make
Think about implications and apply brake
Nothing of this sort may help anyone
You will repent when so many of us might have gone
We are colorful lowers meant to adore
Your home, life and above all many things more
You can depend more on us than male child
Stop the killing and act generous and mild
We shall only boom
When you provide us the room
To breathe and develop freely in air
You must think of means that are very fair
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Prayer On Child Abuse
Dear God Above
Bless the children that need your love
Bless the lives that are about to end
Caused by a stranger, relative, or even a friend
Children sometimes become confused
That's no reason for them to be abused
Children shouldn't be considered a game,
Nor should your child feel shame
To play with their favorite toy
Like any other girl or boy
Child abuse is a serious crime
But it happens all of the time
If the child is too much trouble
Please send help there on the double
Please don't take the child away
Because someone got angry today
But if these precious children should have to die
Please take them to your home in the sky.
poem by Ginny Cadle
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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I Wonder Where My Papa Is?
I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
I wonder why he does not come
And see his Lilly Long.
He would come and sit by me
When the fever burnt my brow,
I wonder where my papa is,
For he comes not near me now.
I hear no more the foot pace
In the hall by my door,
Where he would gently, gently tread
Upon the oaken floor.
His place is vacant by the hearth,
There stands his easy chair;
I hear no more his loving voice
Raising the evening prayer.
The last time I saw my papa dear
Was just five days ago,
He took me in his arms and said,
"You are getting better slow,
Thank God, my little Lilly pet
Will soon be well again,
And run about the house and play
With little Nettie Lane."
I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
It cannot be he has forgotten
His little Lilly Long.
No, he never would have left me
And mamma without aid;
I fear my papa has fallen
A victim of the "plague."
The mother listened to her child,
Her heart filled with pain
To hear her loved one mourn for him
Who would never come again.
Tears were falling from her eyes,
From her bossom heaved a sigh;
Little Lilly asked in wonder,
"Mamma dear, what makes you cry?"
"Dearest Lilly must I tell you
That your papa is no more,
That he cannot come and see you
And caress you as of yore.
He has gone to live with Jesus,
In the heavenly home above,
Where are dwelling the blessed
In God's everlasting love."
Lilly listened to her mother,
She uttered not a sound,
O'er her little pale cheeks softly
Tears began to trinkle down;
At last she sweetly murmured,
"Mamma dear, you and I
Must live so we can meet papa
In Heaven, by and by."
"Yes, my child," the mother answered,
"Your words are very true,
While we live on earth we should keep
The heavenly land in view;
Then bright on earth will be our future,
Bright as a shining star;
We will live in love together,
Till we reach that home afar."
poem by Julia A Moore
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Abort the child
"Please do me favor and abort the child"
He gently approached and sought my shield
I was taken a back and looked in his eyes
But failed to understand what he intended or tried to
"I want some more time to be father"
How can I permit him for such thing as mother?
He can run away from the responsibility
But what would I answer to the almighty?
I simply stared at him and wondered
What all he had promised and offered?
To keep me in good mood and safe
Now he wanted great sacrifice from me to be safe
I decided not to budge or relent
I kept mum and waited for his comments
He had taken me for granted and was very much sure
That I may consent and willingly assure
My heart bled for while and I cried
Eyes had shed too much and silently dried
He had almost in his command everything and tried
I stood firm in my stand and openly defied
"I shall not be part of inhuman act"
The child is mine and that is open fact
We are jointly responsible for birth
How can we offer untimely death?
I was in raging mood and disobeyed
My wished were silently conveyed
Either he must accept me as it is
Or make the way with his choice
I was not prepared to rebel against inner voice
Even if there was little left with me as choice
How can we be that cruel to birth of child?
When we had jointly explored the field
"No dear, there can't be any other way"
Child has to come on this earth any way
I shall take care of everything and survive
Tell me precisely what you think or believe?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Loss Of A Child
Dear God we ask,
Take care of our little child,
Someone who means so much to us,
So beautiful, so gentle, so mild.
A battle fought when tiny,
To stay upon this earth,
A child that was very weak,
From the moment of the birth.
Our prayers were sent for healing,
We gave thanks every day,
For the time the child was amongst us,
But alas, still was taken away.
You have taken the one we worshipped,
To your home in heaven above,
I am sure you had your reasons,
For taking someone we love.
My child I know you are hurting,
You feel life is not the same,
You have nothing to reproach yourself,
You were not to blame.
God took back to heaven,
A rare and beautiful flower,
He has planted it in his garden,
Will surround it with all his power.
The spirit of your child,
In heaven will develop and grow,
To be surrounded by those good people,
Will be surrounded by those you know
Although you have lost the material,
The spirit will be strong and true,
The good times you remember,
Your child will be close to you.
poem by Malcolm Bradshaw
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My Dear Child
Come hither my dear child
It's late - The E'en has fallen
Hark now my dear child
Hie to bed - Thou should'st
Thee forgot thy keys again my dear child
Wait for thou - I must
Methinks that it's getting late my dear child
Perchance - Something has happened to her
Wherefore have thou forgotten thy keys my dear child
I sit here heavy - Awaiting your anon arrival
Wherefore have thou left aroint from me my dear child
I lie here and pray - That thee arrives safely
Doth thou not realise of your keys my dear child
Why art thou - Do this oft to me and leave me heavy
Hark she has arrived my dear child
Mark me - Thou would'st not do this again
Hark now my dear child
Hie to your bed - Aroint in your dreams
poem by Gabriel Gauci Maistre
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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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Hattie House
Air -- "Lily Dale"
Come all kind friends, wherever you may be,
Come listen to what I say,
It's of a little girl that was pleasant to see,
And she died while out doors at play.
CHORUS:
Oh! Hattie, dear Hattie,
Sweet little Hattie House --
May the flowers ever bloom o'er the little tomb,
Of our loved one, Hattie House.
She had blue eyes and light flaxen hair,
Her little heart was light and gay,
She said to her mother, that morning fair,
"Mother, can I go out and play?"
Her mother tied her bonnet on,
Not thinking it would be the last
She would ever see her dear little one
In this world, little Hattie House.
She left the house, this dear little girl,
On that bright and pleasant day --
She went to play with two little girls
That were near about her age.
She was not gone but a little while
When they heard her playmates call --
Her friends hastened there to save the child,
Alas, she was dead and gone.
Those little girls will not forget
The day little Hattie died,
For she was with them when she fell in a fit,
While playing by their side.
She was her parents' only child,
And her age was near six years,
And now she has left them for a while --
Left all her friends in tears.
She has left this world of grief and woe,
Dear friends, she has left behind --
She is waiting on the other shore,
To meet them bye and bye.
One fine morning, the fifth of July,
The summer flowers were in bloom,
Eighteen seventy-one, little Hattie died,
And is sleeping in her tomb.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Tears of Masho
She gave her child away
She had AIDS, they say
Her children should have
Parents to care of them
when she by death
should say goodbye to life.
And her dear own child was
sent to adoption
to a far away land, to a land
she had never been before-
A strange paradise
for her child and which
She as mother could not reach
by her bare feet or sandals.
She did not get the
address of the new parents
She could not write
them in her own tongue
She was not even allowed
to see the last glimpse
of her dear own child,
to give her last embrace
and words of goodbye.
And this child, Masho, who
used to be cuddled by her
own dear mother,
cried day and night
in the new land thought to
be a new paradise.
She watered her pillow
with her own tears and longing.
And she could not understand
why she had to leave her
own mother and playmates
in her own village far away
just because her mother
is condemned to die
by AIDS, they say.
_________
Response to the debate of adoption of children in Denmark, to a particular case of the Ethiopian child, Masho. November 27,2012
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Every Child!
the faces of...
every child who'll
go to bed hungry tonite...
every child afraid to sleep
for fear of the soldiers,
the bullets, the bombs....
every child abused
by his parents...
every child humiliated
for being different.
every child who's never
known his own father...
every child with no hope
for an education...
every child sleeping
in homeless cars.
every child alone,
lonely, without love.
every child of every broken home,
every child, every color, every country...
staring at me this sleepless night,
tearing at my heart...
all my children!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Domestic Tragedy
Clorinda met me on the way
As I came from the train;
Her face was anything but gay,
In fact, suggested pain.
"Oh hubby, hubby dear!" she cried,
"I've awful news to tell. . . ."
"What is it, darling?" I replied;
"Your mother -- is she well?"
"Oh no! oh no! it is not that,
It's something else," she wailed,
My heart was beating pit-a-pat,
My ruddy visage paled.
Like lightning flash in heaven's dome
The fear within me woke:
"Don't say," I cried, "our little home
Has all gone up in smoke!"
She shook her head. Oh, swift I clasped
And held her to my breast;
"The children! Tell me quick," I gasped,
"Believe me, it is best."
Then, then she spoke; 'mid sobs I caught
These words of woe divine:
"It's coo-coo-cook has gone and bought
A new hat just like mine."
poem by Robert William Service
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Why Children?
Why children occupy our full attention
We daily talk about and make mention
Wherever we go we carry some impression
Always praise with happiness and nice expressions
Some of the childless families miss the opportunity
It is divine gift offered to us with fine quality
So many couples may be offering prayers to have child
They may consider themselves unlucky and blind
Almighty has done fairly well for all human beings
The happiness desce4nds and bell rings
The child’s arrival is accepted with grace
So much happiness is seen on the face
One simple smile from child makes our life beautiful
Whole world seems to be within our reach and looks full
What is missing in our life thereafter?
Nothing else, only happiness and bursting into laughter
How a dropp of rain can bring life to seed?
How a soul comes into being and really freed?
What a lovely life when comes to play a role?
Intimacy with all and breathing as noble soul
What do we make thereafter in real world?
Love to live with love or create hate fold
Drag every one in new strategy to cheat
Consider it milestone and great feat
We abuse the child and push them to one side
We force their destiny and compulsorily decide
The perceptional difference is very wide
We sometimes don’t take precaution to hide
Let us not undermine importance of children
They are like messiahs and flowers even
What do we expect from their innocence?
Make life so lovely in their presence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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