My child is sick
In the middle of the night
She entered the shop
Where I work and she tells;
'My child is sick and cold outside
Could you please spare me a cardboard box.'
'Certainly I'll give you Madam!
If I am not inquisitive a small question,
Where's the child's father? '
'Since the first World war he never returned
And I heard he stays with Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, British King George V and Emperor Franz Josef of Austria-Hungary.'
I noticed she carefully wrapped her ragged-doll with an old paper
And kept in the box a plastic bottle as a pillow!
-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
All Through The Day At My Machine
All through the day at my machine
There still keeps going
A strange little tune through heart and head
As I sit sewing:
'There is a child in Hungary,
A child I love in Hungary'
The words come flowing.
When I am walking home at night
That song comes after,
And under the trees in holiday time
Or hearing laughter:
'I have a son in Hungary,
My little son in Hungary'
Comes following after.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Small Little Rag Doll
The small little rag doll
Made with love
Each stitch sown
By tender loving hands
Places under the tree
Wrapped in Xmas cheer
The little rag doll
A waits to be held
Small young hands
Rips wrappers apart
And smile with delight
At the little rag doll
The gingham dress
The Goldie lock hair
And sown on smile
Make a small child gasp
At a beautiful sight
Loving she holds
The little rag doll
And makes her a bed
In her make believe world
Her mother look’s on
With pride and Joy
That her little baby girl
Loves her little rag doll.
poem by Kaila George
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Wrapped In Plastic
Guilt is a snake we beat with a rake
To grow in our kitchen in the pies we bake
Feed it to us to squirm in our bellies
Twisting our guts make our spines to jelly
Stay, don't want to go now
Drove the children from their chores
Handcrafted housewives into whores
Fear of the beast is calling it near
Creating what we're hating, it's only fear that is here
Stay, don't want to go now
Come into our home, won't you stay?
I know the steak is cold but it's wrapped in plastic
Come into our home, won't you stay?
I know the steak is cold but it's wrapped in plastic
I'm only as deep as the self that i dig
I'm only as sick as the stick in the pig
Thin and so white, thin and so white
Daddy tells the daughter
While mommy's sleeping at night
To wash away sin you must take off your skin
The righteous father wears the yellowest grin
Don't wanna go now
Stay, don't wanna go now, stay, don't wanna go now
Come into our home, won't you stay?
I know the steak is cold but it's wrapped in plastic
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Declaration Of Life
Declaration of life
Is a written paper
That I keep in the drawers of my desk
It is a declaration of life that is truly an amazing gift
Sign, sealed, and delivered by God
At the time I was born
And at the time I had entered his world
I had grown and seen all his world
Today I am a believer
I am the one who is falling into God's footsteps
And God is life
This day was made for me
Bring it on I will
I will look on your side of the world
Because there are places
Which are brighter
Filled with thy love and peace
God tells me I will take care of you
Many years to come
Declaration of life
Live my child
Live well my child
Enjoy it my child
Drink my child
Eat my child
Sleep well at night my child
And don't forget about me my child
Child I am the one who signed the declaration of life
In your heart, mind, and soul I live
Child take time to consider grace
God the landscape grows green with your love
Eternity isn't something we wait for-it's what we breathe
God
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mother
A mother shows the child the world
A mother is its world when small
A mother shows the child what's love
A mother loves her child like a doll!
A mother makes the home and bed
A mother cares for all at home
A mother trains the child to walk
And stand on own, perfectly talk.
A mother is the teacher prime
A mother moulds the character
A mother shows the child to pray
And trust the unseen God all life.
A mother is the child's best friend
A mother knows its needs and wants
A mother cares for child when sick
And feels so proud, when child achieves.
Children, thank God for a good mother
On ‘Mother's day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-05-12
poem by John Celes
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Give a Child...
Proudly for Seth ~ Ryan who graduated as
an Aerospace Engineer last week!
Give a child a great education
You give them the world
Give a child science and math
You give them access
Give a child a sense of wonder
You give them joy
Give a child poetry, paint, l.e.d.s, aluminum foil and sparkles
You give them creativity
Give a child accountability
You give them integrity
Give a child an understanding of spirit
You give them faith
Give a child an entire community
You give them responsilbility
Give a child your undivided time
You give them security
Give a child a life by example
You give them the map for success
Give a child hugs
You give them love!
~May 26,2006
Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee
poem by Debora Short
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Three children
Three little children.
One with a home.
One sitting on a thrown.
The last child only skin and bones.
One child lives happily with his family.
One child sits alone; his family won’t spare the time
The last child watches his mother die.
One child has a few new toys.
One child has the best toys anyone can imagine.
The last child plays with sticks and stones.
One child attends public school.
One child stays home and studies alone.
The last child has to cook and has never opened a book.
The children become men.
One man is off to war.
One man is sitting behind a jail door.
The last man is very far from poor.
poem by Yvette Carbajal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Germany was so immensely strong and Austria so dependent upon German strength that the word and will of Germany would at the critical moment be decisive with Austria.
quote by Edward Grey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is not only that Germany has been defeated in the war, Kaiser Wilhelm's Germany was defeated.
quote by C.L.R. James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child Of The King
I’ve never been a cheerleader,
Or a beauty queen.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never pulled up in a stretch limousine.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never been asked
To sit on the front row
Or been catered to
because of a title that I hold.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never been bejeweled
With a lot of bling bling
Or shopped at Saks Fifth Avenue
For the finest of things.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never gotten a Ph.D.
Or sailed on a yacht on the open blue sea.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never wrote a check
For a million dollars spent
Or gotten an invitation
To meet the President.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never lived in a house;
That has a spiral staircase
Or worn a dress with a gold trim lace.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never traveled the world
In my own private jet
Or had my meals brought to me;
By a butler name Lafayette
Still, I’m a child of the king.
I’ve never owned cattle
On a hundred acre land.
Or walked into a room
And all had to stand.
Still, I’m a child of the king.
And still;
I’m a child of the king!
Copyright©2010 by-Phyllis Strong
(...having nothing, and yet possessing everything.2Cor.6: 10)
poem by Phyllis Strong
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Pink Letter
Dear Father,
To thee this letter
Is written with a child’s wonder.
Pink ink
On a fancy paper almost pink
Like a blush on a maiden’s cheek
Like rose abloom in mountain’s peak.
Pink letter in the hands of a child
Bears words innocent and mild
Glorifying the father who made all –
tame and wild.
Pink letter with heavenly scent
Pink ink that stays, not evanescent
Lasts in the heart of the child who writes
Too innocent to name wrong from right.
Dear Father,
To thee this letter
Is written with a child’s wonder.
poem by Geraldine Fernandez
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The Happy Child
I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick --
But not one like the child did pick.
I heard the packhounds in green park --
But no dog like the child heard bark.
I heard this day bird after bird --
But not one like the child has heard.
A hundred butterflies saw I --
But not one like the child saw fly.
I saw the horses roll in grass --
But no horse like the child saw pass.
My world this day has lovely been --
But not like what the child has seen.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Lost Innocence
The small boy sits in the corner
waiting for his father into return.
He is afraid to move about,
He might be punished for that also.
He believes his father
will bring him something good.
But when his dad walks through the door,
all he has is the bottle in his hand.
He runs to embrace his father
and receives a blow to the head.
When the fragile child awakens,
He is in much pain.
His drunken father lies on the couch,
without a care in the world.
He returns slowly and quietly
To his darkened corner,
And says to himself
'Wouldn't it be great if my father loved me,
More than the bottle in his hand.'
(Views Taken from a short story in hindi.)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family Man
My father was a weird figure, sat under a bridge
with a bottle, in a paper bag, looked at the river.
I think he was looking for something he had lost
when he was young. When he had sat there long
my mother, sent me to pick him up. Father never
spoke it was like he had given up on conversation.
At work he was known as the silent man. When he
retired his employers wanted to give him a watch,
for long service, but he didn´t show up preferred
to sit under a bridge with his bottle. One day when
I came to pick him up, he wasn´t there but was found
floating down streams. My father was a dreamer,
he had wanted to be an actor before he married,
mother thought that was a stupid idea, instead he
got a steady job at a factory making plastic ducks
and garden gnomes. When knowing this I mourned
a man who gave everything up for his family.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Stars, Stripes and Paper Dolls
Stars, stripes and paper dolls
Sometimes most prominent inside
My troubled mind,
That sordid spirit had
Locked the door to humanity-
I was none but a child-
Too many dreams
Snakes at my bedside-
My delusional world
Alive last night,
This morning and at
Noon, every night-
Walking the tightrope day by day
Some child lashing out at me, spit in my face-
None but a child myself-it frightened me-
I became a prisoner inside the world of my dreams-
Locked inside with a platinum key-
Fell one day down the elevator slats-
Closed the door on humanity, I did-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
Each had a name-
Intruders from a different galaxy, or perhaps
Some other universe-
I never saw that child again- I had shut the whole world out-
A snake wrapped about my mother’s severed hand-
It hardly mattered; she was close by, protecting me-
Locked inside a world I had
Fabricated for my self alone-
Sitting cross legged on the carpet, staring at the ceiling-
They threatened to take me away last night-
Today, tomorrow, noon and at night-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
I played as a child of fourteen-
It didn’t matter- they knew the truth, but I didn’t, so
I cried no tears- I hear rain falling outside my window-
My door is unlocked momentarily-
I ride my proud stallion into the night-
Losing insight and finding my dreams-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls- always there for me-
Today, tomorrow and at night- and
I never found the key.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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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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A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father, A child. The meaningful bond
A father whispers to the child
As the child continues to ignore his spoken words
As if his owner was almost invisible from the corner of his eye
The child shouts – silence” the father then trembles disfigured to heart
He stands crying tears of fury with the spark of love of his child’s naivety.
The child carries on his missions, his father watches him do his thing”
When finally one day the child realizes his insane character, the father then
Ignores his presence..
Appreciate what you have here, now, but not always.
because 'you never know'.
poem by Noorie Ali
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