Smiling Swing
Back and forth i'm swinging on.
So is the cradle bearing my chubby sister.
'That day i was an old heroine-
Happily on scenarios wearing silk fullskirts
Of pink and green on change overs
Rustling around my ankles,
With a little ponytail right headed,
Toddling along pushing the cradle
With an eager look at my sister
Hoping to get a hello from her.
Just three years but enough old-minded
To welcome the guests willingly
On celebrating the new heroine's birthday'.
Flashing is a smile on my face!
'Worried was lovable grand-pa
To secure me from others' eyes while
Pretty mom worrying about my fair sis.
Grand-pa called me black beauty'.
I'm smiling swinging over the days gone!
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The man called My Father
My sister pointed a man on the road calling him our father
She had a faint smile hoping he would turn and smile back
I saw him walking away in a busy market wearing a suit
Perhaps a man on business while we stood like a failed investments
I asked my mother about the man called My father
She weakly smiled and kissed my chubby childhood cheeks
Years went by and that man often crossed my way, often smiled too
And i smiled back to the stranger who everyone called my father
We met once a while at his place greeting his new family
A mandatory yearly visits like paying homage to gods for life living
The man called my father looking at me with his guilty eyes
And i smiling at the stranger to the man who called himself my father
poem by Dechen Doma Sherpa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Birthday Song
What's new in this September?
when I looked at the calendar.
Today is 13th day.
It's my sister's birthday.
I don't know if she knows it
But I almost forgot it.
Then I went to Facebook
To give my sister a surprised look.
I can't buy anything expensive
But I have something special to give.
I wrote a little song.
I called it ' A Birthday Song '.
I don't know if it's worth it.
But I'm sure it's not gonna be wasted.
It's a five-words quote
To my sister,25 years old.
' Happy Birthday to My Sister '
And Let's party together.
poem by Scott Willic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John Betjeman, Poet
Six distinguished men, soaked to the skin,
others with the ladies following,
a coffin, underslung,
a walk of half a mile along a rough churchgoing path,
the coffin swinging like a cradle,
in driving Cornish rain;
an almost merry funeral,
green and flowered with thought,
full of the memory of laughter
There’s a photo – he's
about two or three years old –
this is a child born
with fear on his face
at having been born
to death; (the cradle
swinging like a coffin) :
instead of looking at the
birdie in the camera, it’s the void he sees.
how to fill the intervening years?
walking just as Pooh Bear walks,
(his beloved, patched teddy bear
which accompanied him for life
had taught him how to walk)
solemn, careful, tubby, smallish steps,
hopping across a road
as if civilisation had taken him by surprise;
squashed pork pie hat concealing
lugubrious face, immobile, melancholy
when not exploding into laughter;
laughter, beauty, won the day.
how to fill the intervening years?
with the gaiety of company, love of women,
declarations of love and offers of marriage,
love affairs for all of ten minutes, sometimes lifelong;
with beauty, observation, comedy; the gift
of finding life one long party is perhaps of those
who've not forgotten death;
a sad face walking so alone,
leaving behind him in the lightest verse,
which won a nation's laurelled love, writing of
the absurdities of class, the built beauty of
a nation’s heritage, washed by sea and custom,
wind and Cornish rocks and shore;
an unspoken magnificence; hints of eternity;
joy; delight, and eloquence; and laughter.
Six distinguished men, soaked to the skin,
others with the ladies following,
a coffin, underslung,
a walk of half a mile along a rough churchending path,
the coffin swinging like a cradle,
in driving Cornish rain;
an almost merry funeral,
green and flowered with thought,
full of the memory of laughter.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My sister dont
My sister please dont cry
My sister dry your eyes
My sister don't end your life
My sister your not his wife
My sister he's cold as a snake
My sister he's just a fake
My sister everything will be better when you wake
My sister Ive seen the pills you take
My sister he's full of lies
My sister don't even try
My sister your the one everyone likes
My sister don't start a fight
My sister it ends tonight
My sister I need you, don't end your life
poem by Jackrabbit Krjs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Believe My Sometimes
Should I give you words
And if you dont believe them
Should I care
Oh all these times
We fight without a reason
I must be blind
To believe you
Believe me sometimes...
I could be a saint to you
And I could play a heroine for you
I could be a lover to you, should i
Cause I might just fall for you
To choose to fight for love and love to fight
Is to get as much as you lose, sister
I hate to see you go
I hate the way youre slipping back
To a life you never wanted
I wish somehow
I could leave you something
Leave me something
Something more
Oh I could be a saint to you
And I could play a heroine for you
I could be a lover to you, should i
Cause I might just fall for you
Should I believe you
Should I believe you
Should I ?
Cause I might just fall for you
Oh I could be a saint to you
And I could play a heroine for you
Should I believe you
Should I believe you
Should I ?
Cause I might just fall for you
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heroine Mom!
Yes! She is my heroine mom
She is my heroine mom.
Who led me through the right path
whenever i went wrong.
Who advised me in a motherly way
whenever i went wrong.
Who offered me a hand
whenever i fell down.
Who filled courage within me
whenever i felt down.
Who told me to be spontaneous
whenever i felt sheepish.
Who patted on my shoulders
whenever i felt docile.
Who told me to face problems
whenever it stood on my way.
Who told me to accept problems with a beam
whenever it blocked my way.
Yes! She is my heroine mom
She is my heroine mom.
poem by Neetha Sasidharan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My grand dad
I remember you grand dad
Back since I was only three
I remember you granddad
How much you adored me
I remember you grand dad
How you made me smile
I remember you grand dad
You made my toddler years worthwhile
I remember you grand dad
Your lovely smell of tobacco
I remember you grand dad
The love for others you would show
I remember you grand dad
When I came to see you, you would give me a jellybean
I remember you grand dad
You always made me feel like a queen
I remember you grand dad
And I miss you everyday
The Heroine
The heroine stood up on the deck
The ship was out of control
The bow was being ripped to shreds
Men were fighting down below
The sea had pummeled the boat for so long
That they knew nothing but fear
And the babys in the box
He thinks the door is locked
The sea is in a state
The baby learns to wait for the heroine
Ohh, ohh, for the heroine
Locked in his defense, he waits for the heroine
The mast is cracking as he waves are slapping
Sailors roll across the deck
And when they thought none was looking
They would cut a weaker mans neck
While the heroine dressed in a virgin white dress
Tried to steer the mighty ship
But the raging storm wouldnt hear of it
They were in for a long trip
Babys in the box
He thinks the door is locked
He finds it hard to breathe
Drawing in the sea
And wheres the heroine to fire off the gun
To calm the raging seas
And let herself be seized, by the -
- baby in the box
The thinks the door is locked
The woman has the keys
But there is no moment she can seize
Heres to the heroine
Who transcends all the men
Who are locked inside the box
Will the lady let them out
Ohh, the heroine, ooohh, ooohhh, the heroine
Strapped to the mast, the pale ascendant heroine
Strapped to the mast, the pale ascendant heroine
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Sister my sister
My sister holds me tight
My sister kisses me goodnight
My sister knows when I’m mad
My sister helps me when I’m sad
My sister is so smart
My sister has my heart
My sister loves me lots
My sister ties the knots
My sister is here to stay
My sister I have until this very day
My sister I wish you well
My sister yes I can tell
My sister asked if I lied
My sister knows if I’ve cried
My sister has moved away
My sister is in my heart to and will always stay
poem by Emilie Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good-By To The Cradle
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Garden and cradle
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden,
Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;
The posies they are good to him,
And bow them as they should to him,
As fareth he upon his kingly way;
And birdlings of the wood to him
Make music, gentle music, all the day,
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden.
When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle,
Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down;
The little stars are kind to him,
The moon she hath a mind to him
And layeth on his head a golden crown;
And singeth then the wind to him
A song, the gentle song of Bethlem-town,
When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Wooden Cradle
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
It lent to the twilight a strange, subtle charm;
When bees left the clover, when play-time was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger or harm.
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around,
What dreams would come flocking, as rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-bye to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of to-day does not know it by sight.
When day leaves the border, with system and order,
The child goes to bed and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the past;
So off wit old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The old wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister Disco
As I walked through that hospital door
As I walked through that hospital door
I was sewn up like a coat
I was sewn up like a coat
I got a smile from the bite of the wind
I got a smile from the bite of the wind
Watched the fresh fall of snow
Watched the fresh fall of snow
I knew then that my life took a turn
I knew then that my life took a turn
I felt strong and secure
I felt strong and secure
And with adhesive tape over my nose
And with adhesive tape over my nose
I felt almost demure
I felt almost demure
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
With your flashing trash lamps
With your flashing trash lamps
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
And to your clubs and your tramps
And to your clubs and your tramps
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
My dancings left you behind
My dancings left you behind
Goodbye, now youre solo
Goodbye, now youre solo
Black plastic; deaf, dumb and blind
Black plastic; deaf, dumb and blind
Bye, goodbye sister disco, now I go
Bye, goodbye sister disco, now I go
I go where the music where the music fits my soul
I go where the music where the music fits my soul
And i, I will never let go, Ill never let go
And i, I will never let go, Ill never let go
til the echo of the street fight has dissolved
til the echo of the street fight has dissolved
I will choose nightmares and cold stormy seas
I will choose nightmares and cold stormy seas
I will take over your grief and disease
I will take over your grief and disease
Ill stay beside you and comfort your soul
Ill stay beside you and comfort your soul
When you are lonely and broken and old
When you are lonely and broken and old
Now I walk with a man in my face
Now I walk with a man in my face
Ooh, a woman in my hair
Ooh, a woman in my hair
Ive got you all lookin out though my eyes
Ive got you all lookin out though my eyes
My feet are a prayer
My feet are a prayer
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
With your flashing trash lamps
With your flashing trash lamps
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
And to your clubs and your tramps
And to your clubs and your tramps
Goodbye sister disco
Goodbye sister disco
My dancings left you behind
My dancings left you behind
Goodbye, now youre solo
Goodbye, now youre solo
Black plastic; deaf, dumb and blind
Black plastic; deaf, dumb and blind
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sister Friend, Why
Sister, Friend, Why!
Sister, friend, you are so beautiful.
Why do you let him put you down?
Yelling, screaming, hitting, insults, cries of pain.
Sister, friend, you are a child of God.
When are you going to let go and give it to God?
Start walking, run, don't turn back.
Jesus is holding His hand out, smile and say, I am free.
Go, sister, friend, positive energy, laughing, smiling,
Beautiful face, tall and erect stature.
Welcome back, there goes my friend.
Welcome back....
Adrienne Clark Strachn
For my special girlfriend
poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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Valentine’s Day 2005
Give me back my sister, God!
Oh, give me back her love;
Give me back our good old days
When cooked we by oil-stove!
Give me back my sister, God!
Oh, give me back the dove;
Give me back the lovely face-
An angel from above.
Give me back my sister, God!
Oh, give me back her now;
Give me back her former ways,
With soul to Thee but how?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-11-2005
Fondly dedicated to my beloved sisters
A.Rosabelle B.Sc., B.T., A. Clemencia B.SC., B.T.,
Dr. A. Sugagemma M.D., Dr. A.Mary Jeevamudha M.B.B.S, &
Dhaya Marie Rexina M.Sc., M.Phil., on
Valentine’s day 2-14-2005, my birthday
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crow On The Cradle
(from the soundtrack to no nukes; peformed live by jackson browne with graham nash & david lindley)
The sheeps in the meadow
The cows in the corn
Now is the time for a child to be born
Hell laugh at the moon
And cry for the sun
And if its a boy hell carry a gun
Sang the crow on the cradle
And if it should be that this babys a girl
Never you mind if her hair doesnt curl
With rings on her fingers
And bells on her toes
And a bomber above her wherever she goes
Sang the crow on the cradle
The crow on the cradle
The black and the white
Somebodys baby is born for a fight
The crow on the cradle
The white and the black
Somebodys baby is not coming back
Sang the crow on the cradle
Your mother and father will sweat and theyll slave
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave
Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep
For weve got a toy that can put you to sleep
Sang the crow on the cradle
Bring me my gun, and Ill shoot that bird dead
Thats what your mother and father once said
The crow on the cradle, what can we do
Ah, this is a thing that Ill leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Sister...
My sister,
I love you,
And I don't know what I'd do without you,
Through the years,
We've smiled,
And laughed,
Cried,
And argued,
And hurt each other,
In ways we never meant,
We've mended our old ways,
And decided to start fresh,
Yet we still get in trouble,
You know what to say or do,
When I'm down,
You make me laugh uncontrolablly,
When I don't want to,
You always tend,
To put a smile on my face,
Even after you tell me things,
That make me cry,
My sister,
You're everything,
A sister should be,
You're everything,
I've wished for,
I never knew,
That when I asked God for a sister,
He'd give me,
The greatest one of all,
So I'm happy I have you,
Cause sister without you,
I don't kno what I'd do.
poem by Adriana Picos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You're a Sister, My Sister
To my sister Julia, who will do great things...
We never had planned this
We never tried.
You're a siter, my sister,
And I still ask why.
All the fighting and noise
And pulling hair;
You're a sister, my sister,
And it's just not fair.
We're sisters, and sometimes
I regret it.
Yet because of you, I'll
Never forget it!
BUT...
Through our ups and downs
This much is true:
You're a sister, my sister,
And I still love you.
poem by Mary Cieslak
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The Buckskin Bag of Gold
Last night I met him on the train--
A man with lovely eyes;
And he gave me a searching glance
Of sweet charm'd surprise!
I knew 'twas he the lady meant,
Who once my fortune told,
By his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Yes! (Ha! ha!) Yes! (ha! ha!) his is the man
Who does your fortune hold!
He has jet black eyes, a grand moustache,
And a buckskin bag of gold.
Tall! (Ha! ha!) slim! (ha! ha!) quick as a flash!
And twenty two years old;
He has jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
The dearest man you ever saw
How much I love him now!
And if I should live a thousand years,
No other hears my vow.
Like Judas--no, like Jupiter,
He look'd so brave and bold,
With his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Sweet boy bring me the "Morning Call"
Perchance I'll find his name;
At the "Grand Hotel" he must have stopp'd,
I wonder when he came!
He must have charm'd those Lumpkin girls,
So haughty, proud and cold,
By his jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
How can I seek a name unknown?
Oh, tell me where he went!
What is this I read! why Papa's bank
Is robb'd of ev'ry cent!
The thief, it seems, left town last night,
Well, well! I'm nicely sold!
He had jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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My sister My sister
My sister my sister,
Is not the best.
My sister my sister,
Oh give it a rest.
My sister my sister,
Stop with the drama.
My sister my sister,
Dumb as a llama.
My sister my sister,
I'm not supposed to see.
My sister my sister,
Dumb as can be.
poem by McKenzie Bellen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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