Women of courage, women of strength ,
Women of faith and devotion.
Mothers of children with spirits so strong
Who may have unbridled imaginations. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ ring His love on all those they greet. Women with losses, women who love,
Whose strength and whose courage comes from above,
Whether they're mothers; or loving Aunties,
It's plain to see Jesus’ love shines through them. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
......
Look at him there in his stovepipe hat,
His high-top shoes, and his handsome collar;
Only my Daddy could look like that,
And I love my Daddy like he loves his Dollar.
The screen door bangs, and it sounds so funny--
There he is in a shower of gold;
His pockets are stuffed with folding money,
His lips are blue, and his hands feel cold.
......
When I am dying, let me know
That I loved the blowing snow
Although it stung like whips;
That I loved all lovely things
And I tried to take their stings
With gay unembittered lips;
That I loved with all my strength,
To my soul's full depth and length,
Careless if my heart must break,
That I sang as children sing
......
Lest he miss other children, lo!
His angel is his playfellow.
A riotous angel two years old,
With wings of rose and curls of gold.
There on the nursery floor together
They play when it is rainy weather,
Building brick castles with much pain,
Only to knock them down again.
......
I am back from up the country -- very sorry that I went --
Seeking for the Southern poets' land whereon to pitch my tent;
I have lost a lot of idols, which were broken on the track --
Burnt a lot of fancy verses, and I'm glad that I am back.
Further out may be the pleasant scenes of which our poets boast,
But I think the country's rather more inviting round the coast --
Anyway, I'll stay at present at a boarding-house in town
Drinking beer and lemon-squashes, taking baths and cooling down.
Sunny plains! Great Scot! -- those burning wastes of barren soil and sand
......
These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families.
The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
......
A child is a magical thing.
It breathes air, eats food, and drinks water.
It smiles and knows what it is to be happy.
It cries and knows what it is to be sad.
It enjoys seeing and touching new things,
listening to music, dancing, and exploring,
and asking lots of questions.
It’s very curious about the world,
and about what’s right and wrong.
It also loves being touched, and held,
......
The books say that with the years, there comes knowledge,
somehow I know now less than when I was a child.
I only know that the stars didn’t shine anymore the way they used to.
I know there isn’t only the good, the bad, and the ugly but the in-between.
Mother's there, her eyes are bright,
Papa's beaming by her side,
And in her arms, a bright delight
Baby brother, little bro.
A picture hanging on the wall
Band-Aids plastered after a fall,
Mother's there to cure it all,
And baby brother, little bro
......
Into the woods I strolled one day, with my twin sister,
For if I had left her behind, I'd surely have missed her.
We were looking for wild strawberries, but we got lost,
Under the warm sun shining, as breezes blew very soft.
We wandered for a while, then we sat to rest by a lake,
And after eating strawberries, we saw a talking snake.
He had seen us walking, and he took us partway home,
Then a pink bunny guided us, so we didn't roam alone.
......