Music Box
(Translation To: Spieluhr)
A small human only pretends to die
It wanted to be completely alone
The small heart stood still for hours
So they decided it was dead
It is being buried in wet sand
With a music box in its hand
The first snow covers the grave
It woke the child very softly
In a cold winter night
The small heart is awakened
As the frost flew into the child
It wound up the music box
A melody in the wind
And the child sings from the ground
Up and down
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Birth-Night Song
The Child is rocked on Mary's knee,
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And 'Lullalay-loo,' soft singeth she,
'My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!'
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
His Highness now how small He lies!
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
Come in, poor war-worn folk, and rest;
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
Shut close within His hand so small
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
'Lullalay-loo,' sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Heart Is Small
MY HEART IS SMALL
My heart is small
My mind also-
I cannot feel much
Or think much now-
I try by writing
To revive myself,
But I am small and cold
As the harsh winter rain outside.
I cannot somehow warm my soul within
Little words
Little lines
A poem of small feeling
In the deep dark of winter
On the coldest darkest night of the year.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mother's Soul
When the moon was horned the mother died,
And the child pulled at her hand and knee,
And he rubbed her cheek and loudly cried:
'O mother, arise, give bread to me!'
But the pine tree bent its head,
And the wind at the door-post said:
'O child, thy mother is dead !'
The sun set his loom to weave the day;
The frost bit sharp like a silent cur;
The child by her pillow paused in his play:
'Mother, build up the sweet fire of fir !'
But the fir tree shook its cones,
And loud cried the pitiful stones:
'Wolf Death has thy mother's bones!'
They bore the mother out on her bier;
Their tears made warm her breast and shroud;
The smiling child at her head stood near;
And the long, white tapers shook and bowed,
And said with their tongues of gold,
To the ice lumps of the grave mold:
'How heavy are ye and cold!'
They buried the mother; to the feast
They flocked with the beaks of unclean crows.
The wind came up from the red-eyed east
And bore in its arms the chill, soft snows.
They said to each other: 'Sere
Are the hearts the mother held dear;
Forgotten, her babe plays here!'
The child with the tender snowflakes played,
And the wind on its fingers twined his hair;
And still by the tall, brown grave he stayed,
Alone in the churchyard lean and bare.
The sods on the high grave cried
To the mother's white breast inside:
'Lie still; in thy deep rest bide!'
Her breast lay still like a long-chilled stone,
Her soul was out on the bleak, grey day;
She saw her child by the grave alone,
With the sods and snow and wind at play.
Said the sharp lips of the rush,
'Red as thy roses,O bush,
With anger the dead can blush !'
A butterfly to the child's breast flew,*
Fluttered its wings on his sweet, round cheek,
Danced by his fingers, small, cold and blue.
The sun strode down past the mountain peak.
The butterfly whispered low
To the child: 'Babe, follow me; know,
Cold is the earth here below.'
The butterfly flew; followed the child,
Lured by the snowy torch of its wings;
The wind sighed after them soft and wild
Till the stars wedded night with golden rings
Till the frost upreared its head,
And the ground to it groaned and said:
'The feet of the child are lead!'
The child's head drooped to the brown, sere mold,
On the crackling cones his white breast lay;
The butterfly touched the locks of gold,
The soul of the child sprang from its clay.
The moon to the pine tree stole,
And silver-lipped, said to its bole:
'How strong is the mother's soul !'
The wings of the butterfly grew out
To the mother's arms, long, soft and white;
She folded them warm her babe about,
She kissed his lips into berries bright,
She warmed his soul on her breast;
And the east called out to the west:
'Now the mother's soul will rest!'
Under the roof where the burial feast
Was heavy with meat and red with wine,
Each crossed himself as out of the east
A strange wind swept over oak and pine.
The trees to the home-roof said:
' 'Tis but the airy rush and tread
Of angels greeting thy dead.'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sitting By Your Self
THIS child needs your love,
this child sees himself in
mamas arms,
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child cries, when your
sitting by your self.
THIS child sees your tears,
this child waits untill its
past.
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child cries, when your
sitting by your self.
THIS child takes your hand,
this child leads you to a
chair.
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child takes away your pain.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God’s Heart
At the moment of dejected spirits
When the pathways of hope
Seem obstructed by the terrible roadblocks
To self-love and acceptance,
Remember the small child
Your mother kissed and father
Took to the amusement park
All joyful and laughing,
The child of eternal dreams
And abiding sweetness.
This is the child you remain
In God’s heart
And the child you can reclaim
For your own heart.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Child And The Small Bird
THE LITTLE CHILD AND THE SMALL BIRD
When I was a little child
Once in my hands
A small bird I held
Maybe too tight
The small bird didn't move
It had just died
And all now I did
Sorrowfully I cried
My dearest child
Mother gently smoothed me
Your love must have been too strong
The little bird couldn't hold on
And so life goes on
But never could I forget
The little bird's tragic end
When I was a little child
Now when spending time with you
My fear is the same
As my love might be too strong
And I am terrified
Like a little child
Mencita Monoï Angel
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Box!
a slap in the face of ignorance,
a small fire on a cold, cold night.
the brush in the artist's hand,
the hand that empties the litter box.
the gun that jams,
the coffee that boils.
the prayer of a small child,
answered in his mother's arms.
all i ask, and ever want to be...
forgotten form, formless remembered,
the box that holds the gift!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Eyes of a Child
When I was young
so very small
the world was a huge place of wonder
it was a vast universe of endless possibility
then I grew old, so very tired
and I knew what it was all about
the love ran cold
the heart not so bold
the limits began to show their ugly heads
the eyes of the child still remain
I still look at the world the same
even with jaded glasses
Are you still a child
with dreams run wild
or have you given up on all?
Summon your will,
the child remains with you still
and as we know
a child will lead us.
poem by Samael Wolf
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocence of a Child
The innocence of a small child:
No care of yesterday
And no worry about tomorrow.
No lie to tell, nothing is hidden
This is okay because it is only a child.
Laugh when they please
Cry when they need
The innocence of a small child.
poem by Arwa Bharmal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where's Daddy?
A small child cries out in the night,
As she longs for a Father who can not be there;
If she wishes long and hard enough, he might
Just show up one day, so that they may share
In one another's lives once again-
Allowing time's healing to finally begin!
'Where's Daddy? ' she asks, seemingly out of nowhere;
Her Mother cannot provide a proper answer-
She pretends all the while that she really does care,
Yet, her self-contempt has already spread, like a cancer!
The child has finally started to realize
That 'Mommy' is precisely what she was taught to despise:
She wears a mask, hiding her vicious lies;
The child ios left heart-broken-in a world of 'whys? '!
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wintertime
Snow falling on the ground,
Little white flakes to be found.
Lift your head to the sky,
And watch the snow zippin’ by.
Cold wind at your back,
Nothing winter seems to lack.
A blanket of snow covers the Trees,
Winter can’t end. No please!
Can’t Jack Frost do his Job?
For a little longer, don’t make me sob.
Can’t I stay in this Wonderland?
I don’t want to return to golden sand.
But under the layer of cold, white snow,
Lies little seedlings ready to show.
I must say a grateful farewell,
To winter fun, for it was swell.
And say hello to summer sweat,
Instead of getting cold, we get wet.
Hello Spring! Hello Summer!
Goodbye Fall! Goodbye Winter!
The Smile Of A Small Child
THE SMILE OF A SMALL CHILD
The smile of a small child
Lights the world-
Hope and happiness come again-
The smile of a small child
And we smile again also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Getting Away From A Responsibility
a child open his arms in Asilo
asking if i can be his father,
without answering him in words
my arms hug him in return
i lift him from the ground and
feel his heart beating unto mine
there is a connection between
two hearts in that thick line of emptiness
between two kinds of loneliness
a child understands it well i think
i didn't
in my age where my hair refuses to
be white
or gray
i am given more options like an ocean
where i am but a very small ship
the child has none
he can only be a bird without wings
drowning at sea
he sleeps and i give him back to the
penguin
oh, i have more places in my heart
less any child
i am a man with so many homes
wanting to be a vagabond again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Blind Child's Plea
What is the colour of the wind, Daddy?
Said the child so small
What is the colour of the wind?
For i can't see it at all
It is the colour of freedom, my child
Said the man to his son
It is the colour of all
The specks of light in the rainbow
That is the colour of the wind
What else, Daddy? What else?
Begged the child
Explain to me more
For you can see what i can not
The sun
The sea
The Earth
And more
It is the colour of beauty
Of peace and light
It is the colour of love
And of day and of night
It feels so free
Said the child
With arms outstreached
I never would have guessed
The colour of the wind
It is the colour you want it to be
And it doesn't matter if you can't see
For the wind is your friend
And you alone
Know the colours of the wind.
poem by Lucy Westmacott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is The Word 'Beauty' And Why Does It Mean So Much To Me?
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
Why do I see it in so many things?
The trees the flowers
The yellows and the greens
The road stretching before me
The distance of the sky
The light in a small child's eyes
Music that moves me to tears
All kinds of melodies
That linger in people's faces
Kind words and kinder deeds
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
And why in this small child playing near me now
Do I feel the Goodness and Greatness of God
The Beauty of everything?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I Was A Child
when I was a child
so very small
so very young
so very long ago
I had a few
very small wishes
I wanted to
leave this world
a little better
than I found it
I wanted to
be less sinning
than I was
sinned against
I wanted to
give God a good
life witness
from my heart
I wanted to help
people not realizing
many wanted to help
themselves unjustly
very small wishes
so easy to perceive
in innocent childhood years
so hard to lifetime complete
I am glad I kept
my innocence
much longer
than most children
growing up today
I am glad I lived
in an age of values
less are proud to affirm
I am glad truth
was born in my heart
for it is truly better
to give than to receive
I am glad and I smile
because it is to some uncool
but I am still in many ways
that simple childish fool.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Winged Angel
A goddess with grace
A demon with strength
Will be born
A child of faith
A child of wisdom
A child of might
The child will know the way to fight
The child will soar the skies above
The child will know a once true love
The child will sing a loving tune
The child will die a once full moon
A child of good
A child of bad
This is a child that cannot be sad
A wing of an angel on the left
A wing of a devil on the right
This is the story of the monster of the night
He walks through the day a normal man
Through the night he's one you cannot stand
Once a child of beauty and grace
Now a fiend of wicked and waste
He walks through the forest seeking all
Creatures of size big and small
In the night he finds a place
With a man he'd like to taste
Closer up he begins to walk
While the man begins to talk
A song he sings
The monster does hear
Calms the beast while so near
The beast begins to change its face
And once again the child of grace
As the child stands in wait
An arrow strikes to seal his fate
In the moonlight a child has died
On horseback the hunter rides
Closer to see his kill
In his mind for just the thrill
As he sees the fallen angel
A puddle of blood with body mangled
He cries in tears for what he's done
It's now time for the sun
The child rises from the ground
With a halo so very round
As the angel takes it's leave
The man now he so believes
Of the one winged angel.
poem by Cody J Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!