Christmas is really
for the children.
Especially for children
who like animals, stables,
stars and babies wrapped
in swaddling clothes.
Then there are wise men,
kings in fine robes,
humble shepherds and a
hint of rich perfume.
......
I had better be.
What benefits my mother, niece,
Daughter and the neighbor lady
Will also benefit me.
Her working conditions,
How much she earns,
Her crisis, her problems,
Are all my concerns.
Her children are my children,
Her yearnings are mine.
......
Old elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
And when dark tempests mimic thunder made -
While darkness came as it would strangle light
With the black tempest of a winter night
That rocked thee like a cradle in thy root -
How did I love to hear the winds upbraid
Thy strength without - while all within was mute.
......
I strolled up old Bonanza, where I staked in ninety-eight,
A-purpose to revisit the old claim.
I kept thinking mighty sadly of the funny ways of Fate,
And the lads who once were with me in the game.
Poor boys, they're down-and-outers, and there's scarcely one to-day
Can show a dozen colors in his poke;
And me, I'm still prospecting, old and battered, gaunt and gray,
And I'm looking for a grub-stake, and I'm broke.
I strolled up old Bonanza. The same old moon looked down;
......
The Children of War are like little flowers trampled,
Young and innocent, fragile and helpless,
Surrounded by violence and rampant destruction-
Their faces are filled with doubts and fear.
The Children of War, so precious and dear,
Stripped of their childhood years, their youth stolen away
Are little Saints for human failing through no fault of their own.
The Children of War, their lives lost and scarred,
......
These are poems about Palestinian children and their mothers...
Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
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
......