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Poems about Children II

Poems about Children II On Looking into Curious George’s Mirrors by Michael R. Burch for Maya McManmon, granddaughter of the poet Jim McManmon Maya was made in the image of God; may the reflections she sees in those curious mirrors always echo back Love. Amen Maya's Beddy-Bye Poem by Michael R. Burch for Maya McManmon, granddaughter of the poet Jim McManmon With a hatful of stars and a stylish umbrella and her hand in her Papa’s (that remarkable fella!) and with Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore in tow, may she dance in the rain cheek-to-cheek, toe-to-toe till each number’s rehearsed ... My, that last step’s a leap! ? the high flight into bed when it’s past time to sleep! Note: “Hatful of Stars” is a lovely song and image by Cyndi Lauper. Oh, let me sing you a lullaby by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy (written from his mother’s perspective) Oh, let me sing you a lullaby of a love that shall come to you by and by. Oh, let me sing you a lullaby of a love that shall come to you by and by. Oh, my dear son, how you’re growing up! You’re taller than me, now I’m looking up! You’re a long tall drink and I’m half a cup! And so let me sing you this lullaby. Oh, my sweet son, as I watch you grow, there are so many things that I want you to know. Most importantly this: that I love you so. And so let me sing you this lullaby. Soon a tender bud will thrust forth and grow after the winter’s long virgin snow; and because there are things that you have to know ... Oh, let me sing you this lullaby. Soon, in a green garden a new rose will bloom and fill all the world with its wild perfume. And though it’s hard for me, I must give it room. And so let me sing you this lullaby. The Watch by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy I have come to watch my young son, his blonde ringlets damp with sleep . . . and what I know is that he loves me beyond all earthly understanding, that his life is like clay in my unskilled hands. And I marvel this bright ore does not keep— unrestricted in form, more content than shape, but seeking a form to become, to express something of itself to this wilderness of eyes watching and waiting. What do I know of his wonder, his awe? To his future I will matter less and less, but in this moment, as he is my world, I am his, and I stand, not understanding, but knowing— in this vast pageant of stars, he is more than unique. There will never be another moment like this. Studiously quiet, I stroke his fine hair which will darken and coarsen and straighten with time. He is all I bequeath of myself to this earth. His fingers curl around mine in his sleep . . . I leave him to dreams—calm, untroubled and deep. With a child's wonder by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy With a child's wonder, pausing to ponder a puddle of water, for only a moment, needing no comment but bright eyes and a wordless cry, he launches himself to fly ... then my two-year-old lands on his feet and his hands and water explodes all around. (From the impact and sound you'd have thought that he'd drowned, but the puddle was two inches deep.) Later that evening, as he lay fast asleep in that dreamland where two-year-olds wander, I watched him awhile and smilingly pondered with a father's wonder. The Tapestry of Leaves by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy Leaves unfold as life is sold, or bartered, for a moment in the sun. The interchange of lives is strange: what reason—life—when death leaves all undone? O, earthly son, when rest is won and wrested from this ground, then through my clay’s soft mortal soot thrust forth your root until your leaves embrace the sun's bright rays. The Long Days Lengthening Into Darkness by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy Today, I can be his happiness, and if he delights in hugs and smiles, in baseball and long walks talking about Rug Rats, Dinosaurs and Pokemon (noticing how his face lights up at my least word, how tender his expression, gazing up at me in wondering adoration) . . . O, son, these are the long days lengthening into darkness. Now over the earth (how solemn and still their processions) the clouds gather to extinguish the sun. And what I can give you is perhaps no more nor less than this brief ray dazzling our faces, seeing how soon the night becomes my consideration. Chip Off the Block by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy In the fusion of poetry and drama, Shakespeare rules! Jeremy’s a ham: a chip off the block, like his father and mother. Part poet? Part ham? Better run for cover! Now he’s Benedick ? most comical of lovers! NOTE: Jeremy’s father is a poet and his mother is an actress; hence the fusion, or confusion, as the case may be. Renown by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy Words fail us when, at last, we lie unread amid night’s parchment leaves, life’s chapter past. Whatever I have gained of life, I lost, except for this bright emblem of your smile . . . and I would grasp its meaning closer for a longer while . . . but I am glad with all my heart to be unheard, and smile, bound here, still strangely mortal, instructed by wise Love not to be sad, when to be the lesser poet meant to be “the world’s best dad.” Every night, my son Jeremy tells me that I’m “the world’s best dad.” Now, that’s all poetry, all music and the meaning of life wrapped up in four neat monosyllables! The time I took away from work and poetry to spend with my son was time well spent. Tall Tails by Michael R. Burch for Jeremy Irony is the base perception alchemized by deeper reflection, the paradox of the wagging tails of dog-ma torched by sly Reynard the Fox. Keywords/Tags: child, children, childhood, grandchild, granddaughter, grandfather, grandparents, Curious George, Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, bed, bedtime, sleep, dreams

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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