Mother Love.
Allthrough the night I vigil kept
My precious child was gravely ill
I told my rosary and wept
to see him lie so pale and still
The dreaded crisis came and went.
My babe is sleeping peacefully
I am exhausted but content
My first born child is still with me.
He will grow up to be a man.
Something which was in jeopardy.
Which makes me a happy woman
I offer my thanks gratefully.
My child pulled through against the odds
Which has renewed my faith in God.
14/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Keeping Faith for M lady Naizz
Keeping Faith.
I am benighted and afraid.
Darkness descended rapidly.
As if the gods themselves forbade
me to complete successfully.
The pilgrimage to which I’m sworn
to save my soul from jeopardy
I'll watch and pray until the morn
And then continue on my way
Though demons whisper in the night
and challenge all that I believe
My faith sustains me in the fight.
At first light I will surely leave.
I will defeat the enemy
and reach my goal triumphantly.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Child Is Sweet Any Day Of The Week
A child that's born on a Monday
holds beauty in sight and mind.
A child that's born on a Tuesday
is graceful, sweet and kind.
A child that's born on a Wednesday
is a treasure, so they say.
A child that 's born on a Thursday
sees a quest with each new day.
A child that's born on a Friday
is loving and freely gives.
A child that's born on a Saturday
shows great work through how they live.
A child that's born on a Sunday
is happy, carefree and gay.
I guess you could say that a child is
special, no matter what the day.
poem by Christine K. Trease
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Wondering for M 'lady Tara
.
Today I saw a winsome Nun.
A negative in black and white.
I wondered if she had begun
to question if her choice was right.
And was she really positive
a life of prayer would satisfy
When she had so much more to give,
given the opportunity
Had her choice been freely made?
Or was she merely dutiful?
Had she been promised as a child?
It’s not at all unusual
to be denied the right to choose.
A subtle form of child abuse.
19-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Monday's Child is Ill
Monday's child is ill, I'm told.
Tuesday's child has caught a cold.
Wednesday's child is down with the flu.
Thursday's child is feeling blue.
Friday's child can't eat any food.
Saturday's child is in a foul mood.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is the only child that feels okay.
poem by Bruce Larkin
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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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I'm still a man for M 'lady Milica
I’m still a man though I grow old
I am no longer brave and bold.
I think before I chose to act.
I have to face up to the fact.
I have to do as I am told.
I’m still a man
The aches and pains that trouble me
all tend to sap my energy.
I cannot do what I used to
That’s matterless for in my view
I’m still a man,
Short Rondel format
15/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Conforming
I cannot unilaterally,
decide to do what pleases me.
How very easy life would be
if that was satisfactory.
Although it makes me furious.
I must confer, debate discuss
until it is unanimous.
I find it rather curious.
It seems your free will is not free.
Although you think it ought to be.
In order to live peacefully
as part of our society.
We have to voluntarily
place limits on our liberty.
05/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Precious As A Child
precious as a child
nothing should be
more precious
than a child
nothing should be more
contagious than a smille
of a child
nothing should be
more cared of
than a child
childrens innocence
so often shattered
childrens love
so often flouted
nothing should be more
of importance
than a child
nothing should be more
powerfully loved by us
than a child
childrens spontaneity
so often trampled on
childrens forgiveness
so often ignored
nothing should be more
cherished in this world
than a child
nothing should be more
hugged with affection
than a child
tell me stranger
what is more
beautiful and precious
than any dear child
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Child Woman, Woman Child
Orbison/dees
Coo coo, thats you, wonder why I love you, you do voodoo, thunder clouds above you
Crazy, kooky, lazy spooky, oh what a clown, always around
And I have found youre a woman. child woman. woman child
Long legged woman when I see you walking you look good
Hey little woman when I hear you talking you sound good
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
Youre into my mind then youre out of my mind child woman
You wind and unwind my mind, time after time child woman ooh child woman, yeah child woman
Flying uptight, dont know where youre going, trying your kite when the wind is blowing
Funny lady, sunny, shady off to the fair, sun in your hair
Oh, youre aware youre a woman child woman, woman child
Strong minded woman when you start groovin you look fine
My kind of woman when you start movin you look fine
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
I dont see you there, I see you everywhere child woman
I dont even care -yes, I really do care child woman, ooh child woman,
Hey child woman child woman, woman child
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birthday Present
I was deprived as a small child.
I never had a teddy bear.
When I look back it makes me wild
I really think it was unfair.
I never had a cuddly toy
to keep me company in bed.
Perhaps because I was a boy.
It left me scarred it must be said.
I should have had a furry friend
that I could tell my troubles to.
A pal on whom I could depend
who’d never tell the things he knew.
But now I am deprived no more.
A teddy’s mine at seventy four.
23-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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American Child
I was ten, I was thin,
I was playing first base
With a secondhand glove
And dirt on my face
In nowhere, Virginia
Who'd ever figure that kid in the yard
Would go very far
It was 419 Lakewood ,
had no silverspoons
Just an old beat up upright
that played out of tune
Now I'm singin' and living the life that I love
And when I count my blessings
I thank God I was an American child
An American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild
Born inside an American child
Seven pounds, three ounces,
She's got my nose
And she's into my heart as deep as it goes
With a promise that's more
Than just someone's last name
Anyone's equal, in late August came
An American child
An American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild
Born inside an American child
My grandfather would have been eighty today
But in '45 he fell down beside
An American child
An American child
Oh, an American child
'Cause dreams can grow wild born inside
An American child
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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A Broken Child
A broken child hides at night.
A broken child cries in fright.
A broken child hides the bruise.
A broken child is pushed and refused.
A broken child always with heartache.
A broken child who cannot fake.
A broken child who has no treasure.
A broken child used for sinful pleasure.
A broken child is so scared.
A broken child has no faith to bare.
A broken child lost in dispair.
I am the broken child, the one that no one cares.
poem by Haley Brown
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Is Man A Winner Or A Loser?
Woman has a poof that the child is hers;
Man has no such proof to claim on the child.
She is cool with the child as identity.
He is desperate for his identity.
Identity crisis has disturbed him.
He invented marriage and chained woman.
He imposed chastity to mark his kids
And introduced patriarchal system.
Identity crisis has troubled him.
He assumed control over women.
He retained the progeny in his name
And made concubines to silence woman.
Identity crisis has worried him.
He bottled woman's skill and built up his.
He grew to be a Scholar. Sculptor and Poet
And assigned to woman the entertaining.
Identity crisis has bothered him.
He treated woman as her property.
He acquired family unfailingly
And labourd for its upkeep and status.
Identity crisis has bored him.
Water as she is, man could not cut her.
Tired of heat outside, man needed a shade
And sheltered himself in woman's coolness.
Woman treated man with due sympathy
With no fight with him for identity.
Her child is enough for her identity.
She helped him to anchor himself in her.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Born But a Little Child
He who spoke the world into creation
He was born but a little child
With love so meek and mild
His birth brought the world a new elation
Was born to die to save all the nations
He was born but a little child
With a precious glowing smile
Was to become the church’s foundation
He was born but a little child
To reclaim the fallen world for His own
He was born but a little child
He came that true love, through Him, could be known
He was born but a little child
To take on our sins, and for them atone
((May 31st,2003))
poem by Danny Speicher
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Peccavi for friend Bob
A sword suspended by a thread, precariously above my head
A sin committed long ago I did not want the world to know.
My conscience nagged incessantly I dreaded the discovery
of what I had done as a child. Sufficient cause to be reviled.
By anyone who came to know the secrets that I hid below
my air of seeming innocence. How I’ve regretted my offence.
What I had done nobody knew nor were they ever likely to.
I did not wish to cause alarm nor did I wish the slightest harm.
To anyone I was a fool to think it would be rather cool.
To super glue the ladies loo which left a lady sticking to
The toilet seat to her distress. I was too frightened to confess.
I realised eventually that only I could forgive me
I still regret my foolishness. A childish prank no more no less.
The time has come for my reprieve I am forgiven I believe
My punishment draws to its close.Although in fact still no one knows.
Who superglued the ladys loo.There is no way that they could do.
I have repented of my sin but secretly suppress a grin.
When I recall the memory which all my life has haunted me
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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The nearness of you for MY Lady Irene,
Stray moonbeams are softly stealing, through my window and revealing.
Things I do not see by daylight. Odd ornaments which they highlight.
They trigger off old memories, not always guaranteed to please
Soft silver beams enable me to the past so vividly.
It is as if the years between which flew so fast had never been
But I can remember too the happy years I’ve spent with you.
You lie there sleeping peacefully I feel your love enfolding me.
The silver beams caress your face and lend to you an added grace
An aura of divinity. I do not need moonlight to see.
Perhaps mine is biased view because I.'m so in love with you
I look at you with lovers eyes and once again I realise.
How privileged I am to be watching you sleep peacefully
You reach your hand out sleepily I stroke it reassuringly.
I am content to simply be, lying beside you quietly.
The moonbeams leave before the dawn.Heralds a new day being born
My love for you won’t fade away its growing stronger every day.
Unlike the moon beams which must leave It is eternal I believe.
Monday,22 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Click here to listen to Precious Moments
Precious Moments My child's first steps
As he falters along
Are forever recorded
In my precious song
My child's laughter
Is music to my ear
And never forgotten
No matter what the year
My child's tiny hand
Slipped into mine
So small and soft
As we both entwine
My child's sparkling eyes
So blue and bright
Reveal when he's happy
And things are just right
My child's warm hug,
And his gentle kiss too
Add to the precious moment,
When he says, "I love you!"
poem by Evelyn Hilpp Heslin
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Wake Not My Sleeping Child
Wake not my sleeping child
This world awaits not thy vision,
Talk not my sleeping child
This world listens to no one,
Move not my sleeping child
This world senses every vibration!
Think not my sleeping child
This world is void of thoughts.
Live not my sleeping child,
This world offers nothing but death!
Lie in my arms in perfect numbness…
This world will spare you its camaraderie!
poem by Anuradha Datta
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