On The Gift Of A Book To A Child
Child! do not throw this book about!
Refrain from the unholy pleasure
Of cutting all the pictures out!
Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.
Child, have you never heard it said
That you are heir to all the ages?
Why, then, your hands were never made
To tear these beautiful thick pages!
Your little hands were made to take
The better things and leave the worse ones:
They also may be used to shake
The Massive Paws of Elder Persons.
And when your prayers complete the day,
Darling, your little tiny hands
Were also made, I think, to pray
For men that lose their fairylands.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Related quotes
Child! Do not throw this book about; refrain from the unholy pleasure of cutting all the pictures out.
quote by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Made Your Lips
God made your lips for me to kiss. Your hands for me to hold.
God made your smile for me to miss and treasure more than gold.
God made your ears so I could tell how beautiful you are.
God made your eyes to cast a spell, no matter, near or far.
God made your arms to hold me tight each time before I leave.
God made your legs to stir delight like Adam saw in Eve.
God made your doubts to fade away, for years have come and gone.
God made your joys thank Him each day our love goes on and on.
God made your heart a lot like mine - hold fast to what God says.
God made you my sweet Valentine, you're always in my prayers.
God made your mind, your memories, your dreams and all you're worth.
God made you precious so you'd please the luckiest man on Earth!
God made your blessings one by one and when I look at you,
I wonder what great thing I've done that you should love me, too.
poem by Denis Martindale
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The child tastes the tear
The tear is made of salt
The tear is made of water
The tear is made of the sea
But you cannot swim in it
The tear can leak down the cheek
The tear is like a good rhyme
The child wipes away the tear
The wipe is made of the hand
The hand is made by…who
The child thinks of the hand
The hand can shake a hand
The hand can slap a cheek
The hand can wipe the tear away
The hand and tear are made
The child is thinking
I am made too
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Hands.... (That Dared To Speak!)
the hands....
that cleaned the old man
lying on urine stained sheets,
that planted the bulbs
in the old woman's flower bed.
that washed the dishes
for forty years....
the hands...
that built the old barn,
that plowed the fields,
that harvested the crops....
the hands...
that stroked desire's body,
that found each secret treasure,
that closed the window.
that held the baby,
that taught the child to write,
that buttoned his suit
on the day he was married.
the hands....
that buried the body,
that brushed leaves from the grave,
that packed away pictures.
the hands....
that picked up the pen,
that turned bloodstained pages,
that dared to speak!
the hands...
now old and withered,
painfully bruised,
often clasped in prayer,
that open to take the small child's hand;
that unlock the door,
and beckon to those in need...
the hands...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My mother's hands
My mother had thick, wide, hands,
callused from years of hard work.
I used to like to hold them,
feel their strength and warmth
Those were the hands that cared,
caressed and held her me close.
Those were the hands that scrubbed
and washed, cooked for us and nursed.
My mother had beautiful hands
and would paint her nails light pink.
They were warm, artistic hands
that could crochet well and knit.
Those were the hands that created,
made beautiful shawls and clothes.
Those were the hands that altered dresses
I wore ‘til they were old.
My mother had beautiful hands
that cooked and cleaned and scrubbed,
and within the things that those hands did
were bundles and bundles of love.
poem by Ruth Walters
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We Aint Much Different
(gary rossington -- johnny vanzant -- hughie thomasson -- rickey medlocke -- mike estes)
This is a story bout livin
A tale of a long hard road
Aint a whole lot of misgivins
Of the things that I thought I sowed
My daddy was a real hard worker
He said son there will come a day
Talk aint always cheap
And heres what daddy had to say
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
He likes grits, you like the apple
There aint nothin wrong with that
He says yall, you say youse
It all depends on where youre at
Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun
And its always good for the soul
From new york city out to california
You know its only rock and roll
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
Oh, not at all
So what Im trying to tell you
Is that Im only one son of the south
Its gonna take more than you me and you
To work this whole thing out
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different
We aint much different
Aint much different
At all
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anthem
It's a new day, but it all feels old
It's a good life, that's what I'm told
But everything, it all just feels the same
At my high school, it felt more to me like a jail cell, a penitentiary
My time spent there it only made me see
That I don't ever wanna be like you
I don't wanna do the things you do
I'm never gonna hear the words you say
and I don't ever wanna.
I don't ever wanna be.you.
don't wanna be just like you
What I'm saying is this is the anthem
throw all your hands up
you.don't wanna be you
Go to college, a university, get a real job
That's what they said to me
But I could never live the way they want
I'm gonna get by and just do my time
Out of step while they all get in line
I'm just a minor threat, so pay no mind
Do you really want to be like them,
Do you really wanna be another trend,
Do you wanna be part of that crowd
cause I don't ever wanna.
I don't ever want to be you.
don't wanna be just like you
what I'm saying is.this is the anthem
throw all your hands up.you.
don't wanna be you.
(Shake it once, that's fine, shake it twice that's okay.
shake it 3 times your playing with yourself again.)
you.
don't wanna be just like you,
what I'm saying is..this is the anthem
throw all your hands up
y'll got the feeling, sing if you're with me
you.don't wanna be just like you (just like you)
This is the anthem, throw all your hands up
y'll got the feeling, sing if your with me
Another loser anthem (whoa) 4x
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Genius Hands
I have seen your shake and I know what it cost you
I have heard your words now I am big on your noise
My eyes aren't big enough because I can't see your hands
I can't see what you hold I am growing now as I watch you fade
Now I know what you know and I'll break the chains you have made
These chains you've made for me
I will pull you down
I know I'll fail in style
I long to touch your genius hands
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The most beatiful hands
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that caressed you
and rocked you when you were little.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that guided you
when you took your first steps in life.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that bathed you,
clothed you and fed you,
during childhood.
There are no more beautiful hands
than the hands that hugged you
and wiped away all your tears
throughout your life.
There are no more beautiful hands
than your mother's hands...
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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A Child smiles
Only in a world of freedom,
Can a child unfold and bloom.
Only with the sun piercing right through the dark hut,
Can a child see the wonderful sights of this world.
Only in an ocean of unprejudiced love,
Can a child speak to its heart's content.
Only through the eyes of soft empathy,
Can a child see its true reflection.
Only in surroundings of unadulterated society,
Can a child open its mind wholesomely and dream.
Only when applauded at its tiniest achievement,
Can a child come to know its hidden potential.
Only in lanes without propagation of caste,
Can a child recognize its own identity.
Only in the cradle of happiness,
Can a child fantasize and create.
Only in vicinity of the learned,
Can a child imbibe the essentials of life.
Only in the pages of medieval history,
Can a child understand its ancestors better.
Only in unpolluted waters of the Ganges,
Can a child splash its hands and wholeheartedly swim.
Only without discrimination of gender and status,
Can a child flourish to achieve its goal.
Only in the gentle hands of its mother,
Can a child shield its eyes and sob.
And Only in an atmosphere of complete equality,
Can a child stimulate his urge for learning, prosper
and SMILE.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Hands
Inside a cave in a narrow canyon near Tassajara
The vault of rock is painted with hands,
A multitude of hands in the twilight, a cloud of men's palms, no
more,
No other picture. There's no one to say
Whether the brown shy quiet people who are dead intended
Religion or magic, or made their tracings
In the idleness of art; but over the division of years these careful
Signs-manual are now like a sealed message
Saying: 'Look: we also were human; we had hands, not paws.
All hail
You people with the cleverer hands, our supplanters
In the beautiful country; enjoy her a season, her beauty, and
come down
And be supplanted; for you also are human.'
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Pictures
Pictures
(Chuck JonesSteve Seskin)
Look at me, eighteen and tanned,
Behind the wheel of my old van,
"Hotel California" turned up loud,
No air-conditioning, windows down.
Look at you smilin' at me,
Don't know when I've been as happy,
As that weekend out in Joshua Tree,
When I got down on my knees.
An' I like lookin' at old photographs.
Reminds me of the way we've always made each other laugh.
Pictures of a life we've made together.
Memories of a love that just gets better with time.
So many good times,
There's no way I will forget.
They've got me thinkin' 'bout pictures,
We haven't taken yet.
Next year let's go to Disneyworld,
Can't wait to see our little girl,
Hold hands with Mickey Mouse,
Chocolate ice-cream on her mouth.
An' you'll get all upset when I,
Snap you comin' off that ride,
With that pasty white look:
You won't put that one in our book.
An' I like lookin' back at all the things we've done.
But I love dreamin' of the years yet to come.
Pictures of a life we've made together,
Memories of a love that just gets better with time.
So many good times,
There's no way I will forget.
Not now I'm thinkin' 'bout pictures,
We haven't taken yet.
Someday I'll walk our daughter down the aisle,
And every tear and every smile,
Will be captured in color.....
Pictures of a life we've made together,
Memories of a love that just gets better with time.
So many good times,
There's no way I will forget.
They got us thinkin' 'bout pictures,
We haven't taken yet.
Can you see us on that front porch swing?
All t
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Sri Ganesha
Him who begot you as a child you made
Into a beggar; as a child yourself
You then lived everywhere just to support
Your own huge belly; I too am a child.
Oh Child God in that niche! Encountering one
Born after you, is your heart made of stone?
I pray you look at me!
poem by Ramana Maharshi
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Funny Commercials, Damn
television screens gave birth to me
I want emancipation
a blood aqueduct above my hands
I need help
but the game is on
eyes on legs and hands and
bad calls
and I am feeling light headed
my fragmented heart made so
by cruel, beautiful lips
what should I do?
wait, honey, it's almost commercial
a cryogenic heart left asunder
soul made of concrete
no summer day embrace for this child
of sitcoms
nothing left to do but sell what is left
of my soul
bring the popcorn
poem by Gabriel Corvus
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Looking Upon A Child
looking upon a child i compress my years
like how i keep the lines confined inside my palms.
i stop for while following where the child goes.
his hands are buds, his feet as small as a saki cup.
his eyes as innocent as an oil lamp waking on a dark night.
his hair are soft and silky like a kitten fur
his sounds like the arrival of morning on the grass.
i hold his tiny hands and i am back to my senses.
he calls my name, but i am no longer there.
i am back to my room. It is as crowded as a storehouse
with papers and books and chairs and used clothes hanging
on the beams and walls. Some old figurines bathed with dusts.
Some dried spittle on the floor. Some unopened off-white pages
filled with age.
i wonder, despite this crowd of things and thoughts,
despite the fullness of the wind from the window
there is still the wide vacancy of space. Inside the heart longs.
Inside the sound howls. Inside something so faint shouts.
It is the sound of the child still calling my name.
It is looking for me and i am never complete.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Grandpa's Wish
Oh I wonder when you wished your wish,
On behalf of your name's sake.
That a child would come and carry on,
Your name that follows Jake.
Oh patriarch you fathered a son,
And so heir one came to be.
Son heir one fathered him a son,
And heir two made Anderson three.
Oh I wonder when you wished your wish,
For another son to be bore.
To preserve the name you proudly bare,
With generations of men times four.
Only God thus knows if such a day comes,
When our name will cease to be.
But for now your legacy doth carry on;
Wish granted! Come see heir number three.
poem by Joseph M Anderson
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Time To Come Home©
Come home, my child,
Be not afraid.
Come home to the arms
Of I who you made.
Come home, my child,
Into the light,
Out of the darkness
Of that cold night.
You are not leaving
You'll be ever near.
Come home, my child,
Be of no fear.
Reach to the gentle
Hands from above,
Come home, my child,
To My boundless love.
poem by Joanna E. King
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Got If Right!
oh! boy, a child eats bread, even cap wave of handful
fingers linger in disarray
beautiful wish I see, letting that little cute sight
want to peep in the silent of the whole
laughter node in every tips of the flipping lips,
pushing it loud for other can be proud
hey! little handsome boy, what have your doing for as
if nobody made it all, look that crushing hands, amazing!
like it to be done, but seem somebody have made it gone
be guided, the oh! will make it fun...do it right again
poem by Antonio Liao
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