Nothing But A Child
Once upon a time
In a far off land
Wise men saw a sign
And set out 'cross the sand
With songs apraised to sing
They travled day and night
With precious gifts to bring
Guided by a light
They chased a brand new star
Ever towards the west
Over mountains far
And when it came to rest
They scarse believed their eyes
They'd come so many miles
This miracle they prized
Was nothing but a child
Nothing but a child
Could wash those tears away
Or guide a weary world
Into the light of day
And nothing but a child
Could help erase those lines
So once again we all
Can be children for a while
Now all around the world
In every little town
Every day is heard
A precious little sound
And every mother kind
And every father proud
Looks down in awe to find
Another chance allowed
And nothing but a child
Could wash those tears away
Or guide a weary world
Into the light of day
And nothing but a child
Could help erase those lines
So once again we all
Can be children for a while
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I'm a proud African child
I'm a pretty bud
growing out of the mud,
I'm a blessed child -
tame and free in mind,
I'm a proud African child.
I'm a precious stone,
neither am I broken nor torn,
A precious stone am I -
treasure to the nation's eye,
I'm a proud African child.
I'm a star in midnight
which gives a spark of light,
Like a diamond in the sky
I dwell with pride in the high,
I'm a proud African child.
I'm the hope for the future,
a pure seed of true virtue,
A fragrant leaf of uncorrupt nature,
A beneficiary of unlimited adventure,
I'm a proud African child.
I'm a child of God
out of doom and gloom called,
I'm more precious than gold
and even more special than a goat,
I'm really a Proud African Child.
poem by Comfort Ndlovu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Precious As A Child
precious as a child
nothing should be
more precious
than a child
nothing should be more
contagious than a smille
of a child
nothing should be
more cared of
than a child
childrens innocence
so often shattered
childrens love
so often flouted
nothing should be more
of importance
than a child
nothing should be more
powerfully loved by us
than a child
childrens spontaneity
so often trampled on
childrens forgiveness
so often ignored
nothing should be more
cherished in this world
than a child
nothing should be more
hugged with affection
than a child
tell me stranger
what is more
beautiful and precious
than any dear child
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Villanelle
Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.
My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!
Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!
Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Villanelle Of Sunset
Come hither, child, and rest,
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play,
Come hither, child, and rest.
My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay,
Behold the weary West!
Now eve is manifest
And homeward lies our way,
Behold the weary West!
Tired flower! upon my breast
I would wear thee alway,
Come hither, child, and rest -
Behold the weary West!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Christmas Carol
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at him.
And all the stars looked down.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don't Cry, Child
Don't cry, child
For children starving far away
For homeless people on the streets
Begging for change.
Don't cry, child
For those of us who have no dreams
Who live in dark holes
That we dig ourselves, laboriously - why?
Don't cry, child
For forgotten rainbows
Or melancholy rainstorms
For wispy clouds, always drifting away.
Don't cry, child
For who you are not
Or who you have been
For who you are.
Don't cry, child
For the last animal of it's kind
The mother who cannot feed her children
A planet in need.
Don't cry, child
When you stand on the edge of forever
And wish you could fly
And see the world at your fingertips.
Don't cry, child
For long-gone yesterdays
Or yearned-for tomorrows
Don't cry, child
For what you have done today
Forgive
Start a new day
Make it better than the last.
poem by Nina Dringo
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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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THIS IS OUR WORLD! ! (SHOCKING n EXPLICIT)
Where a child lives in a warm mother's cocoon
Where a child is sold to the prostitutes, her life doomed
Where a father fiercely protects his child
Yet another father enters another's child
Where children play without any fear
Where men enter boys through the rear
Where a child gets a new toy every day
Where a child becomes a toy near the bay
Where a child is whooped up and twirled
Where a child is forced down and hurled
Where they go to fancy schools, sing and play
Where for a single meal, they sweat and labour all day
poem by Renu Rakheja
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Lullaby To An Anxious Child
Hush child,
Let your mommy sleep into the night until we rise
Hush child,
Let me soothe the shining tears that gather in your eyes
Hush child,
I won't leave I'll stay with you to cross this Bridge of Sighs
Hush child,
I can help the look of accusation in your eyes
In your eyes
The world is broken and now
All in sorrow
Wise men hang their heads
Hush child,
Let your mommy sleep into the night until we rise
Hush child,
All the strength I'll need to find, I'll find inside your eyes
In your eyes
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What If It Was Your Child
I saw a child yesterday sitting on a corner, tears
streaming down its face, and I stopped to ask
why and the child replied, “no one likes me,
they laugh at me and say I lie, but I don’t lie.”
I walk away after leaving a hug and some words
of encouragement, but as I walked home I said,
“thank God it was not my child.”
Today thousands starved to death because they
had no food. Some ones little girl, some ones
son, but my child ate well.
I turned off the television news and I said, “thank
God it was not my child.”
Every day it seems there is more tragedy, more
horrors, children dying, abused and killed, and it
seems nothing is done to change these things, but
my child is safe, warm and fed.
So when I go to sleep at night I pray and say,
“thank God it was not my child.”
This morning someone screamed at my child and
when I in anger started to reply I thought of Jesus on
the cross, his father watching as he suffered and died
at the hands of the very ones he came to save and I
walked away and prayed, “thank God it was not my
child.”
So my friends the next time you are upset over some
wrong you feel has been done to your child, think of
all the wrongs in the world and should you feel the
need for revenge remember, Jesus could have called
all the angels in Heaven for help but instead he cried,
“father forgive them they know not what they do.”
And God said, ” what if it was your child? ”
Three Kings and the Star of Hope
Three wise men of nowhere
Without medals and kingdoms to claim
From the East they marched forward
To find the child beneath the shining star.
Three wise men in their glorious attire
Journeyed long to find the shining star
Stopped by the soldiers of Herod`s iron hand
Ordered to tell where the child could be found.
Three wise men of hope without certain ground
Only guided by the shining star in their mind
Continued to journey to find the child
And met the shepherds who in their search came by.
Three wise men led by the shining star
Reached the stable to find the child
They offered their gifts- gold, frankincense and
myrrh to a child, cradled by voices of angels.
Three wise men in our time
Only with their names and gifts from their hands
Filled with hope from the shining star
Met Jesus, the child, the end of the
long journey so worthwhile to try.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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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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The Tears of Masho
She gave her child away
She had AIDS, they say
Her children should have
Parents to care of them
when she by death
should say goodbye to life.
And her dear own child was
sent to adoption
to a far away land, to a land
she had never been before-
A strange paradise
for her child and which
She as mother could not reach
by her bare feet or sandals.
She did not get the
address of the new parents
She could not write
them in her own tongue
She was not even allowed
to see the last glimpse
of her dear own child,
to give her last embrace
and words of goodbye.
And this child, Masho, who
used to be cuddled by her
own dear mother,
cried day and night
in the new land thought to
be a new paradise.
She watered her pillow
with her own tears and longing.
And she could not understand
why she had to leave her
own mother and playmates
in her own village far away
just because her mother
is condemned to die
by AIDS, they say.
_________
Response to the debate of adoption of children in Denmark, to a particular case of the Ethiopian child, Masho. November 27,2012
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Precious Moments of Mothering
Here inside this church
We sat on the same pew.
While others focused
their eyes at the front aisle
and towards the pulpit,
here beside me, I found
this woman cuddling
her own baby.
She held her child
close to her bosom,
hugged her
with all her warmth,
whispered words
to her ears
and drowned her child
with her loving smiles.
The child giggled,
closed her eyes and slept,
secured and contented
in her mother's robust arms
cuddled and assured
of a peaceful world.
Here beside this woman
I remembered my three girls
who now have moved out
to manage their own life.
Here on a Sunday in this church
I journeyed to the past days.
This woman's hugging
her own child
This mother's enfolding
her child by her two
strong arms
This mother's peace
while holding her child
touched deeply my heart.
Silently tears ran through
my cheeks as silent whispers
of such a great wave of emotions
of missing my own children
while recalling the precious moments
of mothering a child.
____________________
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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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
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Christmas Manger
it is said that this night was the most beautiful night.
every star in the sky was shining very bright
there was not a cloud in the sky as far as the eye could see.
yet! it was foretold to kings of three different nations.
that a woman was about to give birth
to a child which would save this earth.
they packed up everything that they would need
and traveled on this beautiful night
to see this most glorious sight.
when they saw this child with eyes so blue
they knew that this was true.
for this child had such piercing eyes
that it saw through them and touched the sky.
his eyes gave the kings such tranquility
and a flaming desire in their souls
that this child they wanted to hold.
as they passed him from one to another
they looked upon the blessed mary and joseph
kneeling in the hay.
that they all began to pray.
they blessed this child with more than gold
for throughout the world this story would be told.
and even till this very day
we thank god in every way, for this beautiful
child who was born that night.
to give all of mankind a belief greater than they
and to wash away-the sins that we are born with at birth.
they say that the location of the manger was never found
that with time it was torn to the ground.
yet! people come from all over the world
in search of that sacred place.
so that they may feel his grace.
they feel his presence and know he's there
to erase all their fears.
yet the search should not be on the ground
but thru his love found all around.
give of yourself all that you can
and he will give you the helping hand.
poem by Louis Rams
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The African Mother
Who battles with sleep when her child is sick?
Her surveillance around him alone is a cure
Who knows the meanings to her child's actions?
Who understands the heartbeats of her children?
She feels it in her abdomen when her child is hurt
Who fathoms out the daunting of her child
She pacifies the anger of her with just the insertion of her nipple in his mouth
It is you the African mother
You make your wards have confidence in you
Every child calls to his mothers name when he is not comfortable
Who is the child that cries with the father's name?
Which child threaten to tell what has happened to his father
Every child confines in you why because your love never wanes
Your love so pure like crystal
Your sagacity surpasses all women
You never join the dance of the world who thinks everything is fatalistic
You are never fortified by the ignominious traits of your children
In tattered penury you cater for your children
Through thick and thin you struggle to feed your home
Your utmost priority is to set food on the table
You give your children the opportunity you never had
You imbibe into your children reverences
To respect the elderly
poem by Ortiz Antwi
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Our Child
this is our child.
not just yours or mine
but everyones, that are born in our time.
a child is born every minute around this world
beautiful boys and girls.
these children are gifts from god.
and he has chosen you to be the one
who will carry the daughter or son
look into any childs face and you will see
that they belong to you and me.
the child has a bit of all humanity
this is the way god meant it to be.
these are the children of peace
the children of love
given to us from god above.
.
i read in the papers of childrens lives taken
because of anger, fear, sickness and hate.
lets stop them before it too late
put them in jail and throw away the key.
just so that children can sleep peacefully.
if as a child you was abused, neglected, and not loved
then it's time for you to change your life around
and not let these children die on the ground.
stand up and fight, and take
pride in what you do.
the child you save, could have been you.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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A Prayer On Child Abuse
Dear God Above
Bless the children that need your love
Bless the lives that are about to end
Caused by a stranger, relative, or even a friend
Children sometimes become confused
That's no reason for them to be abused
Children shouldn't be considered a game,
Nor should your child feel shame
To play with their favorite toy
Like any other girl or boy
Child abuse is a serious crime
But it happens all of the time
If the child is too much trouble
Please send help there on the double
Please don't take the child away
Because someone got angry today
But if these precious children should have to die
Please take them to your home in the sky.
poem by Ginny Cadle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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