Related quotes: The sun shines as if...

Mrs Hermione J Dunsraleigh.

The sun shines as if it has just been born
Every bird composes a beautiful song
And a child's smile drifts across a warm breeze to me.
I see lovers hold the hand of security, a rare thing in this world
They grip it tighter, but love comes or goes as it pleases,
They can't control it.
People mill around the gates, the cars die on yellow lines.
Aunt Priscilla and cousin Pam speak silence.
I watch with radar concentration
feeling like an inexperienced knife- thrower.
I feel cold as the sun fades.
Morning off work, i cannot enjoy the free time.
My sister Janet and her husband Clive are here,
They exchange words, empty conversation litters the path.
The young child of Belinda screams at the man with the funny cloak
As people cry.
''Why did you let my wife die? '' cries Albert to nobody.

poem by Kevin East
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In The Ghetto

(words & music by scott davis)
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies,
On a cold and gray chicago mornin,
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Songs

When a child is born into this world,
what kind of song will his or her life be?
A song of joy?
A song of hope?
A beautiful rhapsody?

One of sadness, or of grief?
A song of misery?
When a newborn cries and opens its eyes,
what will its song be?

A song of greatness, a song of wealth,
or one of poverty?
When trouble comes, and surely it will,
what will that child's song be?

When we are born our song begins
and we enjoy its pleasant tune.
We sing its melody in the innocence
that leaves us all too soon.

As we grow we hear the songs of
people in various places.
Songs of pride, songs of hatred
and of conflict among the races.

The songs of children playing together
are very pleasing to hear.
Regardless of race, status or color,
their sweet songs don't cause fear.

The Master told us that with childlike qualities
we'll see God's heavenly city.
To miss such a goal because of hearts so cold
would be a tragic pity.

We hear life songs every day and
like smoke they fade away.
But lives that are sung with childlike meekness
will 'inherit the earth' someday.

To sing a song of wonder and worth
is how this life should really be-
with all the innocents throughout the earth
and with love as our constant key.

When a child is born into this world,
what kind of song will his or her life be?
A song of joy?
A song of hope?
A beautiful rhapsody?

****************
Matthew 18: 3
****************

poem by C.F. Wilkins
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Child of mine…

To my beautiful child, , ,

Beautiful child, being so small you inspire me big,
Beautiful child, so fragile, you make me so strong,
Beautiful child, so tender your touch your power is great,
Beautiful child, small is your heart, infinite is the love I feel for you;
Beautiful child, your hand I’m anxious to hold, to walk life’s road with you by my side.
Beautiful child, your light will show me the way,
Beautiful child, you came to my life to teach me a lesson that I shall never forget…
Nor riches, nor power can give us the best things of life…
The smile of a child…Is the best of all rewards…

poem by Ale Duncan
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In The Ghetto

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Un-educating racists

Colours just refracted pitch
as shades of self reflect within

Lessons frail young clean heart cries
lay desolate when sold a sin

Never knew a difference - ever was
but question models higher role?

To preach away inherent love - replaced
to bleach a child-like soul

How blessed was I with empty gift
of never learning - even told

How people turned with blanket eyes
corrupted lessons - mentor cold

What knowledge left for tainted ones?
learn adults - hold a child to see

Not load love lessons - moral choice
un-educate - then child like be

Remove hate layers - overgrown - of rusted
love and gestured smile

Or watch young children play - become
your jury - at God's holy trial

poem by John Murtagh
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Song Of Being A Child

When the child was a child
It walked with arms hanging
Wanted the stream to be a river and the river a torrent
And this puddle, the sea
When the child was a child, it didnt know
It was a child
Everything for it was filled with life and all life was one
Saw the horizon without trying to reach it
Couldnt rush itself and think on command
Was often terribly bored
And couldnt wait
Passed up greeting the moments
And prayed only with its lips
When the child was a child
It didnt have an opinion about a thing
Had no habits
Often sat crossed-legged, took off running
Had a cow lick in its hair
And didnt put on a face when photographed
When the child was a child
It was the time of the following questions
Why am I me and why not you
Why am I here and why not there
Why did time begin and where does space end
Isnt what I see and hear and smell
Just the appearance of the world in front of the world
Isnt life under the sun just a dream
Does evil actually exist in people
Who really are evil
Why cant it be that I who am
Wasnt before I was
And that sometime i, the i, I am
No longer will be the i, I am
When the child was a child
It gagged on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding
And on steamed cauliflower
And now eats all of it and not just because it has to
When the child was a child
It woke up once in a strange bed
And now time and time again
Many people seem beautiful to it
And now not so many and now only if its lucky
It had a precise picture of paradise
And now can only vaguely conceive of it at best
It couldnt imagine nothingness
And today shudders in the face of it
Go for the ball
Which today rolls between its legs
With its Im here it came
Into the house which now is empty
When the child was a child
It played with enthusiasm
And now only with such former concentration
Where its work is concerned
When the game, task, activity, subject happens to be its work
When the child was a child
It was enough to live on apples and bread. and its still that way
When the child was a child berries fell
Only like berries into its hand. and still do
The fresh walnuts made its tongue raw. and still do
Atop each mountain it craved
Yet a higher mountain. and in each city it craved
Yet a bigger city. and still does
Reach for the cherries in the treetop
As elated as it still is today
Was shy in front of strangers. and still is
It waited for the first snow. and still waits that way
When the child was a child
It waited restlessly each day for the return of the loved one
And still waits that way
When the child was a child
It hurled a stick like a lance into a tree
And its still quivering there today
The child, the child was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, was a child
Child, child, child
When the child, when the child, when the child
When the child, when the child
The child, child, child, child, child
(added words by van morrison)
And on and on and on and on, etc. and onward
With a sense of wonder
Upon the highest hill. upon the highest hill
When the child was a child
Are you there
Shassas, shassas
Up on a highest hill
When the child was a child, was a child, was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, etc.
(fade to end)

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Enjoy More

I had lot more to enjoy than to loose
Between the devil and good I had to choose
It was going to be different universe in a long way
I was to catch child’s finger in fateful days

I was criminal in all the respects
Some people were fearful of my acts
I could sense the way they would prefer to react
Something was forcing them back in fact

I am earthy man with full of lovely feeling
The criminal past forbids me to stop further killings
I saw the changes when I declined to be blind
As at home wife had delivered beautiful child

“Is the world so beautiful to live in? ”
“Can there be more losses with gain”
I was puzzled to read in between lines
But fact remained there that I was feeling fine

She was for all smile when noticed some changes
I was changing fast with resolve to manage
No more hatred and wrong acts in coming days
I held her hand with promise in distinct way

How come one factor can change entire life?
I had performed all the acts with use of knife
Taken lots of lives for the self protection
Now I have decided to go in for corrective action

Lovely child reminds me of beautiful days ahead
I want the life to be completely different and lead
Let whole world gun for my life if they prefer
But I shall stand fast and may not like to suffer any more

The child has brought good fortune
May be at right time to change the tune?
Sing a song of total harmony with relative peace at heart
No one teaches anything but comes as surprise with good start

It may not be smooth transformation
But I am at rest with no more questions
Life can be led differently at any time
Little divine grace is needed sometimes

What kind of medicine can be useful for sound health?
Can worldly pleasures bring change with enough of wealth?
I find none but yes to some unforeseen development
It is altogether blessings in disguise with slight improvement

If there was to be best place for criminals in world
Nobody would have thought it for second and turn cold
At given point of time something struck to the mind
We may be different person with all changes to find

I want no more past history
I wish not to feel sad and carry
Let it remain buried for good
I have come to sense and lately understood

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Nicy Song

child hand

catch...

mothers...

han d...

with out love...

with out faith...

with out no...

but...

catch the hands

child was

simply smile...

daa daa...

speak some words...

the child

words was not for

sweet...

with a noise...

mother feel

nicy song...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Sound Sleep

I had a sound sleep,
Heard a little beep,
It was time to get up,
Ready to work on new set up,

It is daily routine,
I enjoy and feel fine,
With little taste of wine,
Freshen up with broad smile,

Day may pass with great zeal,
Work on hand and test real,
Pure honesty and nothing to conceal,
Kind words and wounds to heal,

God has given every thing,
Happy with it and pray for nothing,
Get on with the work with experience wide,
Always to part with and nothing to hide,

Love to all for loved to be among,
Desire sincere and feeling strong,
Words uttered like beautiful song,
So sweet to hear for nothing wrong,

Day to start with honest approach,
To be a good need no coach?
Path is open for easy reach,
Everything to remember and nothing to teach,

You have satisfaction with enough joy,
Love your work and easily enjoy,
No hard way and artificially employ,
Broad smiling with no hidden decoy

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My Overwhelming Wish To Have A Child

A child is a bless from heaven,
A pure being that came into the world,
Like a creation of a throbbing love,
Between a man and a woman through the grace of God.

I am a sensitive woman,
In every little thing i feel life,
I wish one day i'll hold my child in my arms,
And crying happily when my child calls me "mom".

Nothing can compare a mom's feeling,
To hold in her hands those little hands,
Those shinning shy eyes are watching her with hope,
She is all the universe of her beloved child.

My biggest wish is to have a child,
To live together wonderful moments,
To enjoy its first little steps, its smile,
And each day with joy will be fulfilled.

I take this life and live it,
All vicissitudes i'll surpass,
Only those deepest pain you cannot heal,
My overwhelming wish to have a child.

poem by Cristina Teodor
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At My Aunt's Unveiling

AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING

At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.

Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.

My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.

I had only been a taker all the years.

My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world

There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.

There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.

I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew

‘What does it all mean’

When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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