A Fragment: To Music
Silver key of the fountain of tears,
Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
Softest grave of a thousand fears,
Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child,
Is laid asleep in flowers.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The angels of sleep
Asleep the child fell
When night cast its spell;
The angels came near
With laughter and cheer.
Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping:
'How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while sleeping!'
To God mother went,
From home it was rent;
Asleep the child fell
'Neath tears' troublous spell.
But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender;
The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splendor.
It grew with the years,
Till gone were the tears;
Asleep the child fell,
While thoughts cast their spell.
But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping,
The thoughts took and whispered: 'Have peace now, while sleeping!'
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Wild Child
im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and you wont regret
cuz ill bring a party
that youll never forget
they say that im crazy
that ill never calm down
so you better watch out
when i come to your town
dont listen dont care
you cant controle me
if you know whats good for you
just let me be
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and im neva gonna change
im an uncontrolable beast
that you just cant cage
when i was younger they used to
lock me in my room
hoping and praying
that ill calm down soon
they dont understand
that im neva gona stop
i just broke free
somone call a cop
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
im hell on wheels
dont diss it dont play
till you know how it feels!
poem by Helena Dombrowski
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Ee Valliyil Ninnu Chemme
Child: Oh mother! Look, all the flowers on
This plant are flying away
Mother: No! You are wrong my child
These are not flowers, they are butterflies.
Child: Look mother! They look so beautiful
Going one on top of the other into the sky
Oh! How I wish to play with them mother
But like them I cannot fly…
Mother: Don’t waste your precious tears my child
By crying about things you cannot do
You can walk around and play
But can the flowers walk like you?
Child: Mother, can you tell me why these things happen
I shall give you a kissy if you do.
Mother: We know very little about the secrets of life
Though I know God created them for me and you!!
poem by Kumaranashan, translated by Risha Ahmed
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Murrow Turning Over In His Grave
All the sainted sinners
They pay handsomely
And eventually?
They make the weapons
And they run the prisons
And they sell the justice
Cause being guilty is
Just good business
And well be standing on
The borderline
Aint no one there gonna
Stop it now
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
Half-closed eyes
And the countrys deadly
Do you feel the ooze as your brain drains out
From your pneumatic drills and sharpening knives
Blood in the sky
Are you dead or alive?
All the restless people and the bitter green
Well it fakes this gold, makes the spirit mean
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Wanderer's Return
My home is so glad, my heart is so light,
My wandering boy has returned top;night.
He is blighted and bruised, I know, by sin,
But I am so glad to welcome him in.
The child of my tenderest love and care
Has broken away from the tempter's snare;
tonight my heart is o'erflowing with joy,
I have found again my wandering boy.
My heart has been wrung with a thousand fears,
Mine eyes have been drenched with the bitterest tears;
Like shadows that fade are my past alarms,
My boy is enclasped in his mother's arms.
The streets were not safe for my darling child;
Where sin with its evil attractions smiled.
But his wandering feet have ceased to roam,
And tonight my wayward boy is at home.
At home with the mother that loves him best,
With the hearts that have ached with sad unrest,
With the hearts that are thrilling with untold joy
Because we have found our wandering boy.
In that wretched man so haggard and wild
I only behold my returning child,
And the blissful tears from my eyes that start
Are the overflow of a happy heart.
I have trodden the streets in lonely grief,
I have sought in prayer for my sole relief;
But the depths of my heart tonight are stirred,
I know that the mother's prayer has been heard.
If the mother-love be so strong and great
For her child, sin-weary and desolate,
Oh what must the love of the Father be
For souls who have wandered like you and me!
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Wild Child
It's too late to turn back
When the green lights flash
Too late to turn around
When the love goes down
Your fire my fate
This woman won't wait
So love beam your laser light
Get ready gonna take this flight
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Two hearts one mind
Baby you're my kind
You're too hot you're too much
You've got that personal touch
Push button play thing
Make my back door ring
Fight fire with a little fire baby
You oughta know you make this
little girl sing
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
Do your little shake baby
rattle and roll
Ring my bell baby do my soul
Don't let the grass grow under my feet
Bang my drum baby feel my beat
you're so wild
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me
song performed by by Heart from Brigade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Reaper
The world is drowsy, the winds asleep,
On the sward of the sky the star-blossoms peep,
And the grey Moon moves with his silver scythe
The pallid flowers of light to reap.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Wild Child
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
Dont hear the phone that rings
I know the fevers coming
God knows what life will bring
This sunday morning (sunday morning) without a warning
Dont hear the neighbour scream
He thinks my house is burning
Well, life is good to me
This sunday morning (yeah)
Shes a wild child
And her l-l-love turns a man insane
Shes a wild child
And the love she makes rocks the mind off my brain
Dont hear the backdoor crack
Dont see the cops are coming back
Its burnin in my bed
This sunday morning (yeah)
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And her l-l-love turns a man insane
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And the love she makes rocks the mind off my brain
Shes on fire
Shes on fire
Shes on fire
Shes a wild child
And her l-l-love turns a man insane
Shes a wild child
And the love she makes rocks the mind off my brain
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And her l-l-love turns a man insane
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And the love she makes rocks the mind off my brain
Shes a wild child
Shes a wild child
Yeah
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And her l-l-love turns a man insane
Shes a wild child (shes a wild child)
And the love she makes rocks the mind off my brain
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Silver Fairy
The Silver Fairy, under flowers
Stands; holds apples, hidden powers.
Adam his rib, Eve the fruit.
Gone, rejected bible loot,
The Preachers, selling hours
The Silver Fairy, in her bower
Sits; mild and docile, hidden flowers.
Waiting till there’s no-one, mute.
Her wings of silver, still.
The Silver Fairy, apples sour
Lies; beating breast in sorrow,
Moving towards her freedom fluted,
Noted for her silvered beauty.
All asleep, reprised, astute.
Her wings of silver, still.
poem by Alice Anne Gordon
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A Mother's Love
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother will know,
When a Child is sick with fever, and the pulse is slow;
A Mother will not sleep or rest, till the child is well,
This is what my Mother did, she cared, I could tell.
What is a Mother's love? As it's only a Mother can feel,
When a Child is so bad, she makes her Mother feel like a heel;
Like the Mother will keep her patience till she wants to cry,
But in the end, when; the child is sorry, then she will sigh.
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother can say with Love,
My Mother never did give up, it's the Same as God above;
When we Hurt our Mother, show Angers, a grieve them too,
We need to say sorry, and also to God this is true.
God and Mother's are almost the same, Forgiving and Receiving,
God just patiently waits for us, to be well behaving;
And say sorry for our sin, He' ll never give up on us,
So is a Mother's Love, she shows love, she'll never fuss.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Buttercups and Daisies
I never see a young hand hold
The starry bunch of white and gold,
But something warm and fresh will start
About the region of my heart; -
My smile expires into a sigh;
I feel a struggling in my eye,
'Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray,
Till rolling tears have won their way;
For, soul and brain will travel back,
Through memory's chequer'd mazes,
To days, when I but trod life's track
For buttercups and daisies.
There seems a bright and fairy spell
About there very names to dwell;
And though old Time has mark'd my brow
With care and thought, I love them now.
Smile, if you will, but some heartstrings
Are closest link'd to simplest things;
And these wild flowers will hold mine fast,
Till love, and life, and all be past;
And then the only wish I have
Is, that the one who raises
The turf sod o'er me, plant my grave
With buttercups and daisies.
poem by Eliza Cook
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Asking in Vain
Still his little grave she seeketh
In her mother-sorrow wild,
Hush! While in her heart she speaketh
To the spirit of her child:
“Were we not to one another
Once the sum of all sweet gain?
Say then—say unto thy mother,
Shall we ever meet again?
Darling, shall we meet again,
Knowing, loving one another?
“Ah! What weary, weary sorrows
Have I known through loss of thee,
And what comfortless to-morrows
Wait me in this misery!
Were we not to one another
Once the sum of all sweet gain?
Say then—say unto thy mother,
Shall we ever meet again?
Darling, shall we meet again,
Knowing, loving one another?”
But the wind alone is heard
Sighing in reply,
Where the long grave-grass is stirred
As it floweth by.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Mother
My heart sometimes cries
As it always feels so lonely
Although, I really wish that I could feel love of my mother
Hardly ever, my sweet mother was able to embrace me
Only after Eight months of my birth, she died
Died by jumping in a well and it took her life, at the very next moment
When people realized about her being dead, she was no more
Then as I grew up I always have missed someone who would care unconditionally about me
Unconditional love and care is received through a mother
However, I lost my mother at an very early age
Life, she took of herself
I guess she was really depressed and had no strength to fight her fears
It is sad, since she was my mother and I really always miss her love and care
Without a mother, I always feel so empty
Whenever I witness a mother taking care of her child
It only reminds me of her, again and again
I miss her and I wish she would have loved me if she was present
Mother, why did you leave me?
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
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Melancholy Child
A baby with a baby just barely seventeen
My mother mourned her innocence
While she bounced on her knee
A daddy on the road added to her tears and trials
Like silver rain they fell upon this melancholy child
The sounds of my childhood still linger in my song
My mother's lullaby that train that ran behind our home
A whippoorwill on a window sill - it should have made me smile
But everything sounds lonesome to a melancholy child
Now a restless blood runs in our family
I thought I could outrun the emptiness inside of me
So I went a little crazy, went a little wild
Trying to outdistance my own melancholy child
I met a kind and gentle man who thinks the world of me
And when he looks my way it is a woman that he sees
But when I can't explain to him the tears that fill my eyes
He takes me in his arms and rocks his melancholy child
You take a black Irish temper and some solemn Cherokee
A Southern sense of humor and you got someone like me
There are thorns on every rose to this I'm reconciled
They're just a little sharper to a melancholy child
And in my own babe's eyes I see the signs of a melancholy child
Heaven help us all, another melancholy child
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories Of Hope Series #11 Adopted Child
The child was brought into this world
By an un wanting mother, did not have
any family, no sisters, no brothers.
But was adopted from birth by a woman
Who was seeking a child, and didn’t
Have any of her own for quite awhile.
This child was loved, like he could never know
Because as a mother her love she did show.
Never had a need or want for anything in life
Never knew about the mothers struggles or strife.
The child at times would question as to why
he was from a one parent family.
She told him that it was the way she wanted it to be.
She loved this child more than life itself
And in her heart this child would dwell.
Then one day before high school graduation
He had needed papers of when and where
He was born documentation.
He knew his mother kept the important
Papers in a metal box- which was always kept locked.
He found the key to the box, and opened it
Up with care, and with his mother the reason
He would share.
He found an envelope dated 1/29/92
Which was his birth date, that much he knew.
He opened the envelope and saw the heading
“ certificate of birth” on the first paper he took out.
As he opened it up and started to read
Where it said parents names, was blank as can be.
He waited for his mother to get home
And then the papers would be shown.
When she got home he asked her why there was no names?
She put her head down and said: she was to blame.
You see: you was left on the hospital steps
With a note attached to you blanket saying:
“She could not take care of you
And this was the best that she could do.”
Being a nurse in that hospital, I fell in love with you
And I went through the process to adopt you.
I have loved you from the start, and you’ve
Filled my soul and heart.
No one can love you more than I
And I will love you till the day I die.
The tears started rolling down her face
And he kissed her tears away.
He said: you are the only mother I have ever known
And because of you, I have a family.
“ that could never change for me”.
I’m so sorry that I never told you my son
And for any hurt that I may have done.
I just wanted to protect you
That is all I wanted to do.
They both shed their tears, and comforted their fears.
He said: I decided that I would go to the court of records
And change it for all to see, that you are
The only mother for me.
On his birth certificate they attached a stipulation
Which read: this woman became his mother from
The moment that he was found
And this case has become world renown.
Because of the hope she had in her heart
Her and her son got a brand new start.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE
poem by Louis Rams
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A Glass Of Wine
'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, friend, while I begin
And tell you what I see-
What I behold with my far-reaching eyes,
And what I know to be
Below the laughing bubbles that arise
Within this glass of wine.
There is a little spirit, night and day,
That cries one word, for ever and alway:
That single word is 'More!'
And whoso drinks a glass of wine, drinks him:
You fill the goblet full unto the brim,
And strive to silence him.
Glass after glass you drain to quench his thirst,
Each glass contains a spirit like the first;
And all their voices cry
Until they shriek and clamor, howl and rave,
And shout 'More!' noisily,
Till welcome death prepares the drunkard's grave,
And stills the imps that rave.
That see I in the wine:
And tears so many that I cannot guess;
And all these drops are labelled with 'Distress.'
I know you cannot see.
And at the bottom are the dregs of shame:
Oh! it is plain to me.
And there are woes too terrible to name:
Now drink your glass of wine.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Warmth, not wealth, feeds
A mother in penury has her child
Suckles her breast and slumber on her lap.
A mother in luxury buys her child
A feeding bottle and a silver cradle.
The child of the poor is rich in warmth,
Though with no silver spoon in its mouth.
17.09.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mother, I May Have Been A Naughty Child
Mother, I may have been a naughty child,
But I am your child nevertheless!
You own the world, mother, you are the queen of the world,
And look at me, I go about in the habit of a beggar.
You are bent on neglecting me,
But I love you anyway, it is you, only you that I call upon.
Just as a child runs to his mother even after she has scolded him,
So do I run to you.
How could you push me away from you, mother,
You are my mother, are you not?
Oh, why did you cast me away, mother,
Leave me to play in the dust?
I would have been a better child,
Had only you been a little more kind to me.
I am sad and angry, mother,
I shall go away anywhere my eyes and my feet take me to.
I do not care now whether i live or die now, mother,
I am going away.
poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam
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