National Poem In Your Pocket Day

My Pledge of Allegiance to Me

There’s more to me than the human eye can see.

I’m a woman of purpose and destiny.

A perfect design, I’m special and unique.

I won’t be identified by the parts that make

up my physique.

My beauty is not defined by my skin or my hair

and my soul has more value than

 the clothes that I wear.

I’m not a symbol of pleasure or sex appeal;

I have the natural ability to comfort

and the power to heal.

When God made me, He created a gem

because He fashioned me in the likeness of Him.

I refuse to do anything that will put God to shame.

I deserve to be treated with reverence

and called by my name.

I can’t be purchased or sold at any price

because I’ve already been bought and paid

for by the precious blood of Christ!

Written by Letitia L. Hodge

Poetry for Women (By Women, For Women, About Women)

The Old Stage Queen


by: Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)
 
Back in the box by the curtains shaded,
She sits alone by the house unseen;
Her eye is dim, her cheek is faded,
She who was once the people's queen.

The curtain rolls up, and she sees before her
A vision of beauty and youth and grace.
Ah! no wonder all hearts adore her,
Silver-throated and fair of face.

Out of her box she leans and listens;
Oh, is it with pleasure or despair
That her thin cheek pales and her dim eye glistens,
While that fresh young voice sings the grand old air?

She is back again in the Past's bright splendor--
When life seemed worth living, and love a truth,
Ere Time had told her she must surrender
Her double dower of fame and youth.

It is she herself who stands there singing
To that sea of faces that shines and stirs;
And the cheers on cheers that go up ringing
And rousing the echoes--are hers--all hers.

Just for one moment the sweet delusion
Quickens her pulses and blurs her sight,
And wakes within her that wild confusion
Of joy that is anguish and fierce delight.

Then the curtain goes down and the lights are gleaming
Brightly o'er circle and box and stall.
She starts like a sleeper who wakes from dreaming--
Her past lies under a funeral pall.

Her day is dead and her star descended,
Never to rise or shine again;
Her reign is over--her Queenship ended--
A new name is sounded and sung by men.

All the glitter and glow and splendor,
All the glory of that lost day,
With the friends that seemed true, and the love that seemed tender,
Why, what is it all but a dead bouquet?

She rises to go. Has the night turned colder?
The new Queen answers to call and shout;
And the old Queen looks back over her shoulder,
Then all unnoticed she passes out.

Poetry For Women (By Women, For Women, About Women)

AIN'T I A WOMEN?

Photo Credits from http://ionenewsone.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/sojourner-truth.jpg

That man over there say

     a woman needs to be helped into carriages

and lifted over ditches

     and to have the best place everywhere.

Nobody ever helped me into carriages

     or over mud puddles

     or gives me a best place...

And ain't I a woman?

     Look at me

Look at my arm!

     I have plowed and planted

and gathered into barns

     and no man could head me...

And ain't I a woman?

     I could work as much

and eat as much as a man —

     when I could get to it —

and bear the lash as well

     and ain't I a woman?

I have born 13 children

     and seen most all sold into slavery

and when I cried out a mother's grief

     none but Jesus heard me...

And ain't I a woman?

     that little man in black there say

a woman can't have as much rights as a man

     cause Christ wasn't a woman

Where did your Christ come from?

     From God and a woman!

Man had nothing to do with him!

     If the first woman God ever made

was strong enough to turn the world

     upside down, all alone

together women ought to be able to turn it

     rightside up again.

Copyright © Sojourner Truth, 1852.

Poem by Sojourner Truth (1797-1883)

Children's Corner: Poetry (I, Too, Sing America)

I, Too, Sing America

by Langston Hughes

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong.

Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then.

Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Ms. Child Advocate

Children's Corner; Christmas Poetry

The Littlest Christmas Tree

The littlest Christmas tree,

lived in a meadow of green,

Among a family,

of tall evergreens,

He learned how to whisper,

the evergreen song,

with the slightest of wind,

that came gently along.

He watched as the birds,

made a home out of twigs,

and couldn't wait till, 

he too was big.

For all of the trees,

offered a home,

the maple, the pine, and the oak,

who's so strong.

"I hate being little",

the little tree said,

"I can't even turn colors,

like the maple turns red",

"I can't help the animals,

like the mighty old oak",

"He shelters them all,

in his wide mighty cloak".

The older tree said,

"Why little tree you don't know?

The story of a mighty king,

from the land with no snow?"

Little tree questioned,

"A land with no snow?"

"Yes!" said old tree,

"A very old story,

from so long ago".

"A star appeared, 

giving great light,

over a manger, 

on long winters night.

A baby was born, 

a king of all kings,

and with him comes love, 

over all things."

"He lived in a country,

all covered in sand,

and laid down his life,

to save all of man.'

Little tree thought of the gift

given by him,

then the big tree said with the 

happiest grin,

"We're not just trees,

but a reminder of that day,

there's a much bigger part,

of a role that we play!"

"For on Christmas eve,

my life I'll lay down,

in exchange for a happier,

loving ground.

And as I stand dying,

they'll adorn me in trim,

this all will be done,

in memory of him".

"Among a warm fire, 

with family and friends,

in the sweet songs of Christmas,

I'll find my great end,

then ever so gently,

he'll come down to see,

and take me to heaven,

Jesus and me".

"So you see little tree,

we are not like the oak,

who shelters all things,

beneath his great cloak.

Nor are we like the maple

in fall,

who's colors leave many,

standing in awe".

"The gift that we give,

is ourselves, limb for limb,

the greatest of honor,

in memory of him".

The little tree bowed, 

his head down and cried,

and thought of the king, 

who willingly died.

For what kind of gift,

can anyone give?

Then to lay down your life,

when you wanted to live.

A swelling of pride 

came over the tree,

Can all of this happen?

Because of just me?

Can I really bring honor?

By adorning a home?

By reminding mankind,

that he's never alone?

With this thought, little tree,

began singing with glee,

Happy and proud,

to be a true Christmas tree.

You can still hear them singing,

even the smallest in height,

singing of Christmas,

and that one holy night.

© Amy Peterson

Children's Corner; Poetry

CHILD'S EVENING HYMN

Now the day is over,

Night is drawing nigh,

Shadows of the evening

Steal across the sky.

Now the darkness gathers,

Stars begin to peep,

Birds and beasts and flowers

Soon will be asleep.

Jesus, give the weary

Calm and sweet repose;

With thy tenderest blessing

May our eyelids close.

Grant to little children

Visions bright of thee;

Guard the sailors tossing

On the deep blue sea.

Comfort every sufferer

Watching late in pain;

Those who plan some evil

From their sin restrain.

Through the long night-watches

May thine angels spread

Their white wings above me,

Watching round my bed.

When the morning wakens,

Then may I arise

Pure and fresh and sinless

In thy holy eyes.

Glory to the Father,

Glory to the Son,

And to thee, blessed Spirit,

Whilst all ages run.

Amen.

Sabine Baring Gould

Children's Corner: Poetry

THE DUSTMAN

When the toys are growing weary,

And the twilight gathers in;

When the nursery still echoes

With the children's merry din;

Then unseen, unheard, unnoticed

Comes an old man up the stair,

Lightly to the children passes,

Lays his hand upon their hair.

Softly smiles the good old Dustman;

In their eyes the dust he throws,

Till their little heads are falling,

And their weary eyes must close.

Then the Dustman very gently

Takes each little dimpled hand

Leads them through the sweet green shadows,

Far away in slumberland.

Frederic Edward Weatherly

Children's Corner; Poetry

Good Night!

On your pretty cradle-bed;

Shut your eye-peeps, now the day

And the light are gone away;

All the clothes are tucked in tight;

Little baby dear, good night.

How the bitter wind doth blow;

And the winter's snow and rain

Patter on the window-pane:

But they cannot come in here,

To my little baby dear.

Till the stormy night is past;

And the curtains warm are spread

Round about her cradle-bed:

So till morning shineth bright

Little baby dear, good night!

Little baby, lay your head

Yes, my darling, well I know

For the window shutteth fast,

Till the stormy night is past;

And the curtains warm are spread

Round about her cradle-bed:

So till morning shineth bright

Little baby dear, good night!

Author : Ann and Jane  Taylor

Children's Corner; Poetry

What Will You Be?

When you grow up what will you be?
Will you be tall like Dad or short like me?
Will your hair be dark like it is right now?
Or will it turn amber, or auburn, or brown?

Will you run fast with agility and grace?
Or fall behind in a slower pace?
Will words come quickly to your mouth and hand?
Or will mathematics and numbers be your plan?

Whatever you choose and wherever you go,
May you always understand and know,
That you are loved, not for what you do,
But because you're special - because you're you.

 Author: unknown

Children's Corner; Poetry

Father, We Thank Thee

Father, we thank Thee for the night,

And for the pleasant morning light,

For rest and food and loving care,

And all that makes the world so fair.

Help us to do the things we should,

To be to others kind and good,

In all we do, in all we say,

To grow more loving every day.

(Author Unknown)

Children' Corner ; Poetry

A Child's Love

On a hill far away 

where a wooden cross stood, 

A child was kneeling, A Child's Love

On a hill far away 

where a wooden cross stood, 

A child was kneeling, 

praying hard as he could. 

His hands pointed northward, 

folded ever so tightly, 

His mind clear and focused

on the Lord God Almighty. 

His prayer today

was for those he loves dearly. 

His father, his mother, 

and his baby bro' Billy. 

Take care of our needs, Lord, 

though I know that you will. 

Bless daddy, and mommy, and

my baby bro' Bill. 

Watch over our house

and keep us from Sin, 

Come enter Lord Jesus. 

Come Enter. 

Come In. 

Copyright (c) July 7, 2000 

Joe Medrek

Children's Corner; Poetry

All These Things

by Belinda van Rensburg

Jesus cares for you and me
For all the fishes in the sea
For crawling snakes and birds that fly
Upon the earth and in the sky.

Little bugs that buzz and hop
Horses galloping clip clop
Ponies prancing; dolphins dancing
Love birds kissing and romancing.

Sharp-eyed eagles that can soar
Mighty ocean waves that roar
Bleating lambs and chimps that swing
Refreshing showers in the Spring.

All these things and so much more
Jesus Christ loves and adores
He made each thing and everyone
Who lives under the smiling sun. 

© 2010

Children's Corner; Poetry

The Fisherman 

The fisherman goes out at dawn
When every one's abed,
And from the bottom of the sea
Draws up his daily bread.

His life is strange ; half on the shore
And half upon the sea —
Not quite a fish, and yet not quite
The same as you and me.

The fisherman has curious eyes ;
They make you feel so queer,
As if they had seen many things
Of wonder and of fear.

They're like the sea on foggy days, —
Not gray, nor yet quite blue ;
They 're like the wondrous tales he tells
Not quite — yet maybe — true.

He knows so much of boats and tides,
Of winds and clouds and sky !
But when I tell of city things,
He sniffs and shuts one eye !

by Abbie Farwell Brown

Source: The Fisherman by Abbie Farwell Brown, Famous Children Poems http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/famous/poem/the-fisherman-by-abbie-farwell-brown#ixzz2k6sZB9nW 
#FamilyFriendPoems 

Children's Corner; Poetry

Friends 

How good to lie a little while
And look up through the tree!
The Sky is like a kind big smile
Bent sweetly over me.

The Sunshine flickers through the lace
Of leaves above my head,
And kisses me upon the face
Like Mother, before bed.

The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass
To whisper pretty things;
And though I cannot see him pass,
I feel his careful wings.

So many gentle Friends are near
Whom one can scarcely see,
A child should never feel a fear,
Wherever he may be.

by Abbie Farwell Brown

Source: Friends by Abbie Farwell Brown, Famous Children Poems http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/famous/poem/friends-by-abbie-farwell-brown#ixzz2k5eP5LfO 
#FamilyFriendPoems 

Children's Corner: Poetry

"Ode to an Infant Daughter"

I thought a rose the fairest thing
That I could ever see
Until I saw this little girl 
That God had given me

Of music's finest part I thought
That I had heard the whole
Until my daughter's little cry
Brought music to my soul.

My arms I thought had borne their share
Of life's most perfect part
Until I held this tiny form
Against my joy-filled heart

I thought the greatest joy was mine
That any one could know
But then I only held the cup
Which now doth overflow

 Author: unknown

Children's Corner; Poetry

childhood is...

Childhood is hanging your pictures on the refrigerator, and tea parties you always have to cater.
Childhood is chasing butterflies and picking flowers,
playing with blocks and making towers.
Childhood is hating nap time,
and thinking everything is always MINE
Childhood is crayons and coloring books,
Playing hide and go seek in all the right nooks.
Childhood is falling asleep to your favorite lullaby,
wishing you had wings so you could soar into the sky.
Childhood is only crying over a scrapped knee,
or being stung by a bumble bee
Childhood is thinking boys have cooties,
or your mom making you wear itchy booties.
Childhood is ruining mommy's new leather,
and making friends and keeping them forever.
Childhood finally ends,
When you start to grow up,
And not having to drink out of a sippy cup

 

 

Shenika Vermaak

Children's Corner; Poetry

School- My Palace

For me school is a palace,
with teachers excelling in solace,
School is a sapling of wisdom and wealth,
known for not burdening us to death,
It is a place of fun, frolic and fiesta,
along with anger, enemity and siesta,
A school is a temple of learning,
the beginning of man's earning,
A school is like a kaliedoscope of exploring,
which set Einstein and Curie pondering,
It is the hub of future excellences,
with a wide variety of references,
It is a house where Friends and teachers meet,
making the atmosphere full of excitement and discreet,
School is always the best,
for the present and future to rest.

Shivani Pillai

Children's Corner; Poetry

Teacher Says, Teacher Goes

Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,

what you have done,
was clearly a mistake,
maybe it is,
time for a break.

Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,

that you have been naughty.
That you have been quite foughty.
That you are being rude,
don't call teacher a dude.

Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smilies,
teacher know,

that you were making faces,
behind teachers back,
that you were throwing spitballs,
at the teacher's pet.

Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows.

So enough is said,
so now you know,
that whatever you do.....

Teacher says,
Teacher goes,
Teacher smilies,
Teacher knows

Jasmine Aira

Children's Corner; Poetry

The Child

I was the child
Who got raped
I was the child
That held it all in
I was the child
Giving the dirty slate
I was the child
Given this sin
I am the child
Who told a friend
I am the child
My pain now ends
I am the child
With a fresh start
I am the child
Forgiveness in my heart
I am the child
My love will show
I am the child
Who has let this go

 

Brie Carter

 

Childen's Corner; Poetry

Eyes of a child

Eyes of a child
Such gems in stones
Staring you close
Still as blue sky
They don't lie
Their sun is shining
While you are crying

Eyes of a child
Day or night
I got no light
Free as a child
I can be wild
Eyes of a child

Let them go, into the snow
Without your grace
There's a lot more to know
Just glance over their face

It's the eye of a child
Free and wild

Child don't think too much
Ain't no worry as such
Joy driven life they live
Half-a-soul they give

It's the eyes of a child
Free and wild

Save me child
Save me child
Set me free and wild
Eyes of my child

Siddharth Shah