Good is better than power.
Must be a king powerful, besides being good.
Else, he is a child in the cradle of others.
Must be a king good, besides being powerful.
Else, others are as child in his cradle.
Safety counts over speed.
29.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Good-By To The Cradle
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Wooden Cradle
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
It lent to the twilight a strange, subtle charm;
When bees left the clover, when play-time was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger or harm.
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around,
What dreams would come flocking, as rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-bye to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of to-day does not know it by sight.
When day leaves the border, with system and order,
The child goes to bed and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the past;
So off wit old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The old wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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My Child
Let me rock you as if in a cradle.
But let the cradle be my arms.
Let me soothe your furrowed brow
and smile upon your charms.
Let me sing you a lullaby
and watch you fall asleep.
Let me listen to your sleeping sound
and hold you close to me.
Let me never forget this moment
and keep it alive in my memory.
My child, my child you'll grow too fast
and never will there be
a time to rock you in my arms again
or cradle you close to me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Heart's Song
Absalon, my son, that I could have died for you, my son.
Life holds no pleasure, let me descent to hell, weeping
Grove of Tuoni, grove of evening,
There a sandy cradle is waiting,
There I will carry my child.
There the child is free from sorrow
In the wood, in the meadow
Tending the cattle of Tuoni.
There my child is free from sorrow
When the evening casts it's shadow
Rocked in the cradle of Tuoni.
There my child is free from sorrow,
Lulled to sleep by a birdsong mellow,
Rocked in a cradle of gold.
Peace of Tuoni, far from passion
Far away from man's oppression
Far from the treacherous world.
poem by Aleksis Kivi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The King Of Pop
The child, the man
The legend and still the child
And like a child you died...
You had it all
And had nothing at all....
Through out your tormented life
You managed to become the king
Surrounded by people
All over the world
But still lonely and empty
When with love
You offered all...
Now I can only said
In one word:
You were born a king
And died like a king...
Now you became like
A star shining above
Which had been gone
Long time ago...
You will always live with us...
Tribute to the king of pop
Who made it to the top
And will always remain with us...
Through the end of time....
R.I.P. king...
©All Rights Reserved-2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Cradle Of Love
Well rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love dont rock easily its true
Well rock the cradle of love
I rocked the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love dont rock easily its true
Well now
It burned like a ball of fire
When the rebel took a little child bride
To tease yeah so go easy yeah
Cause love cutts a million ways
Shakes the devil when he missbehaves
I aint nobodys fool
Come on shake it up
Whatever I do
Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love dont rock easily its true
Sent from heaven above thats right
To rob the cradle of love
Yes the pages of dont talk decently its true
Yeah flesh for your romeo
Ah yeah baby
I hear you moan
Its easy yknow how to please me yeah
This love starts my rollin train
You cant stop it
It aint in vain
I aint nobodys fool
Come on shake it up
Whatever you do
These are the wages of love
Rock the cradle of love
These are the wages of love
Ooh yeah
Rock the cradle
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Well it burned like a ball of fire
When the rebel took a little child bride
To tease yeah I know how to pleas you yeah
Well my love starts a rollin train
You cant stop it
It aint in vain
I aint nobodys fool
Come on shake it up
Wathever I do
Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Sent from heaven above
Thats right
To rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yeah cradle of love
Thats me mama
I robbed the devil of love
All right
Cradle of love
If you teaze me tonight
If you sleaze me all right
If you appeaze me tonight
And let me ease you
Cradle of love
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From The Autobiography Of A Famous Man 2
i was born in a cradle
made of gold
my father was the king of Tut
he married the princess of Tat
and the bore eleven children
all named Tat 1, Tat 2, Tat 3,
Tat 4 for the girls
and Tut 5, Tut 6, and so on
and so forth for the boys,
I was named Tut 8
King Tut thinks that I am a lucky child
being the 8th
everything in me goes up
but Queen Tat believes otherwise
like Tat 2 my name as Tat 8
sounds like a
bad toothache.
This is the story of
my birth.
(Proceed to the next Chapter
for the Story of my Childhood)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Other Children
"Little child of my five senses
and of my tenderness."
Let us cradle our loves,
We will have good children.
Well cared for,
We will fear nothing on earth,
Happiness, good fortune, prudence,
Our loves
And this leap from age to age,
From the order of a child to that of an old man,
Will not diminish us.
(Confidence).
poem by Paul Eluard
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The Three Kings Of Cologne
From out Cologne there came three kings
To worship Jesus Christ, their King.
To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,
And many a beauteous golden thing;
They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,
And in that manger set them down.
Then spake the first king, and he said:
'O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!
I bring this crown to Bethlehem town
For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;
So give a heavenly crown to me
When I shall come at last to Thee!'
The second, then. 'I bring Thee here
This royal robe, O Child!' he cried;
'Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one
There is not in the world beside;
So in the day of doom requite
Me with a heavenly robe of white!'
The third king gave his gift, and quoth:
'Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
Anoint the body of my King;
So may their incense sometime rise
To plead for me in yonder skies!'
Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,
That gave their gifts, and went their way;
And now kneel I in prayer hard by
The cradle of the Child to-day;
Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
As offering unto Christ, my King.
Yet have I brought a gift the Child
May not despise, however small;
For here I lay my heart to-day,
And it is full of love to all.
Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,
My only tribute, Christ, my King!
poem by Eugene Field
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Crow On The Cradle
(from the soundtrack to no nukes; peformed live by jackson browne with graham nash & david lindley)
The sheeps in the meadow
The cows in the corn
Now is the time for a child to be born
Hell laugh at the moon
And cry for the sun
And if its a boy hell carry a gun
Sang the crow on the cradle
And if it should be that this babys a girl
Never you mind if her hair doesnt curl
With rings on her fingers
And bells on her toes
And a bomber above her wherever she goes
Sang the crow on the cradle
The crow on the cradle
The black and the white
Somebodys baby is born for a fight
The crow on the cradle
The white and the black
Somebodys baby is not coming back
Sang the crow on the cradle
Your mother and father will sweat and theyll slave
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave
Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep
For weve got a toy that can put you to sleep
Sang the crow on the cradle
Bring me my gun, and Ill shoot that bird dead
Thats what your mother and father once said
The crow on the cradle, what can we do
Ah, this is a thing that Ill leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Good To Be King
Its good to be king, if just for a while
To be there in velvet, yeah, to give em a smile
Its good to get high, and never come down
Its good to be king of your own little town
Yeah the world would swing if I were king
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks and your canary sings
Youre out there with winners, its good to be king
Yeah, Ill be king when dogs have wings
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
Its good to be king and have your own world
It helps to make friends, its good to meet girls
A sweet little queen, who cant run away
Its good to be king, whatever it pays
Excuse me if I have some place in my mind
Where I go time to time
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom is a Powerful Word
freedom is a powerful word
filled with glori and brightened eyes
freedom is a powerful word
where no black child is left behind
the despair of no hesitation
the depair of no education
freedom is a powerful word
freedom is a powerful word
where everyone gets a chance to be one
freedom is a powerful word
where a black man can raise his son
we got freedom
but we dont respect it
black boys droppin out of school
black girls gettin pregnant at early ages
these people fought for our rights
but all we do is abuse it
like i said freedom is a powerful word
are you sure we are free
why are we killing our own race
we are gettin involved in the wrong stuff
like gangs and selling drugs
smokin weed and makin d's
it aint right
freedom is a powerful word
if it is so powerful
dont abuse it
poem by Tatianna Biggs
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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
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Power
King is powerful with his army
Poet is powerful with his poetry.
People are powerless with poverty
Traders are powerless with no money.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Wisdom is what makes a poor man a king, a weak person powerful, a good generation of a bad one, a foolish man reasonable.
The Powerful Woman
The powerful woman does not raise her voice
She does not tell you what to do
She does not ask you for favors
She weeds her own garden
She tends to her chores
She listens to your woes
She shows you how to make jello
She tenderly prunes the tomato plant
The powerful woman moans when her own child dies
But she goes on, tending to her chores
The powerful woman lends shelter
Whether it be a bird with broken wing
Or a young man lost
The powerful woman has no face
She has no name anyone has heard before
The is an image, a memory, a shining light
Glowing through a stained glass window.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Call Me Up (The Phone Is In The Cradle)
My friends, they don't talk much about religion
But my friends, they don't talk much anyway-ay
When they do I know I'd better listen
'Cause my good friends just naturally know
The right things to say
They say, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my door-oor
Well if you're so inclined and if you've got the time
We can talk the night away
Adam got so lonely in the garden
He said it's tough to be the only man alive
He said I'd give a rib for just somebody to talk to
Well thunder and lightnin' out providin'
You came strollin' by
She said, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Well if you're so inclined and if you've got the time
We can talk the night away
Now Rosie was the queen of the all night cowboy
She said, Texas boy, you seem kinda shy-y
Don't you expect an embossed invitation
Just knock on the wall, come down the hall
And knock on by
She said, call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself delivered to my doo-oor
Call me up, the phone is in the cradle
Get yourself [fade]
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Child Is This (While My Guitar)
=====================
What Child Is This?
=====================
What child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
So bring him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come, peasant, king, to own him.
the King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone him.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Adoration of the Wise Men
Saw you never in the twilight,
When the sun had left the skies,
Up in heaven the clear stars shining,
Through the gloom like silver eyes?
So of old the wise men watching,
Saw a little stranger star,
And they knew the King was given,
And they follow'd it from far.
Heard you never of the story,
How they cross'd the desert wild,
Journey'd on by plain and mountain,
Till they found the Holy Child?
How they open'd all their treasure,
Kneeling to that Infant King,
Gave the gold and fragrant incense,
Gave the myrrh in offering?
Know ye not that lowly Baby
Was the bright and morning star,
He who came to light the Gentiles,
And the darken'd isles afar?
And we too may seek his cradle,
There our heart's best treasures bring,
Love, and Faith, and true devotion,
For our Saviour, God, and King.
poem by Cecil Frances Alexander from Our American Holidays - Christmas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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