Best Cradle Poems
Written May '85 when I was 14
It's truly a shame in our day and time
that a child goes hungry: it should be a crime.
We say look ahead to a bright new dawn,
but tell that to a mother when her child is gone.
The baby died in her arms - she fell fast asleep.
They're used to it now and don't even weep.
The sickness, the death, it's not in a dream.
It's so close to home, but it's not even seen.
The cities, the slums, the famine, the drought -
we've got to do something. It won't work itself out.
There's food in the world, let's show that we care.
The children are dying - it's so hard to bare.
Many are dying and many more dead.
No food, no clothes, cold ground for a bed.
It's a serious thing, and oh it's so fatal.
LISTEN TO ME WORLD!
There's hunger in the cradle.
Cradle Song
Sleep now! Oh sleep sweet child divine!
Sleep now ‘neath a bright star’s light
Rest now Heaven’s prince!
Dreaming through the night
Angel’s praises sing your lullaby.
How little did we know of love?
Did not see your heavenly plan
Still shepherds come with lambs
Earthly kings and holy hosts
Welcome Jesus, King, on this holy night.
Sleep now! Oh sleep sweet child divine!
Sleep now beneath a star’s delight.
Ordinary night
Touched by Heaven’s grace
Love lights up the skies with Noel praise.
Long this world waited for Love’s return
So stilled now the waiting heart
Lord Emmanuel
Let us sing for joy
Cradle songs for the birth of our Lord.
Sleep now. Oh sleep pure winter’s rose.
Sleep child bathed in starlight glow
Mountains bow low
Peace and Justice kiss
Deserts bloom with flowers of redeeming bliss.
Sleep Jesus sleep!
12-8-21
Contest: A Christmas Carol Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Based on: The Sleep of the Child Jesus
Le Sommeil de l’Enfant Jesus – Old French Noel
Standing with feet spread and arms opened wide,
I give myself to the beauty of this ocean night.
Though at a calm inlet’s entrance, my ears bear
witness to near crashing waves focusing their roll.
My solitude loves ocean sounds as favored music
while I absorb comfort from stars so brightly lucid.
Consolation is no illusion, night invites my intrusion,
calms my confusion and lifts all my cares on high.
In daylight, I hide, keep fears inside my weep
until the world sleeps and I may dare sneak
to the freedom of infinite sky and sea.
Placing my float upon the water, I then lay
face up, give way to the inlet to steer my coast
and to stars sparkling endless dreams evoked.
I dangle my fingers in the satin water ripple,
sigh as night upon water eases all of ill fashion
and natural darkness washes me with peace.
I am grateful to night for its water cradle,
for clear dark sky where angels sparkle stars
until all twinkles sigh signal away my fears.
Though I must depart the night’s embrace I lust
before the daylight begins its revealing start,
I stay prayerful for the night and water pattern
that stroke me with hope while afloat their passion.
The moon's bow beckons to me,
wind's frosty fingers
entwining mine,
and I lay myself on the balcony's ledge
immersing, losing myself
under that inky blanket sea
the clouds rolling past, so fast,
skimming like waves veiling moonlight,
then letting it peek through
like a shy bride
beautiful, so beautiful
a gentle glow of soul
a silent lullaby that rocks me
If only for a moment
I keep my cradle of tears at bay,
as I let the moon do the weeping for me.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Debussy's Clair de Lune
now mingles in my mind like soft smoke
and tears come streaming...
Tired, so tired am I.
01162014114a137
"The Wooden Cradle"
a white wooden empty cradle, I wait in the nursery room
for the smell of baby fragrance to illuminate sleeping bloom
years have escalated, still sounds of silence hurt my ears
for all I hear are tender sobs from a Mother's broken tears.
I felt a distant heartbeat once, but it has ceased to linger
my warmth caressed a dying soul who touched my slats with finger
his breath was labored; his life short, but I held his heart close
now haunting memories exist as I cuddle his sweet ghost.
my frame sits in a sunny place, outside, I see a tree
swaying in the balmy breeze where a swing should be
instead, I cry, so silently, recall a tiny form
I embraced in a moment in time and kept him safe and warm.
if these walls within this room could whisper words of sorrow
sheer pain would cause tremendous tears to fashion sad tomorrows
I sympathize with woeful walls whose treasure no longer looms
but no-one understands my loss inside the nursery room.
*For Frank H.'s PERSONIFICATION Contest.
when darkness falls
shadows serenade
upon moonlit walls
and my eyes close
as i bid farewell to day
sweet dreams
cannot come
when hand from grave
rocks you back
through life's storms
i was bound to the hand
that rocked the cradle
my ship in stormy seas
slapped on the face
yet not by waves
but tasted saltwater
just the same
chilled to bare bone
then swept away
by wind of warmth
apologies?
an aftermath of storms
an unexpected pause
until the next red tide
bore my name
chained fast
to this diligent life
i longed to break free
from this anchor
that weighed me down
i swam against the tide
yet i was rocked
knocked back
through life
though tides have since parted
and seas are more calm
the taste of saltwater
still lingers
its bitterness
in my mouth
my mind
in bondage
cries out in pain
as hand from grave
rocks the cradle again
THE CRADLE OF MANKIND.
The archaeologists of this era
Were about to excitedly find
The Cradle of Mankind
Where the origins of humankind
Had been found, the news was about
To be revealed to the whole world
And so the ears of our globe were glued
To their radios in 1947, they heard,
About this mammoth remarkable finding
Painstakingly excavated , it’s evidence binding.
Mrs Ples’s skull was found,
And with carbon dating,
Archaeologists were rewarded
Most certainly worth waiting!
Estimated to be 2.3 million years’ old.
Mrs Ples (as the archaeologists named her)
All this time had been hidden
For many a year
But there is still more to hear!
It is said that she is the missing link,
We may each think what we want to think!
Archaeologists were about to discover
Other unbelievable phenomena,
Which supported the belief of evolution,
And steered many into total confusion!
God is omnipresent, and
The Alpha and Omega, He has been
Looking down on earth for millenniums
From the beginning of time,
He is omniscient, He believes in me,
And I in Him, He is the Divine!
The Sterkfontein caves are now famous,
Planet Earth was listening, this story was big!
In 1998 archaeologists discover
Yet another important find,
This boggled the mind!
They laboriously dug in this one excavation
Over twenty years, Layer upon layer of ground
And thus Little Foot was found!
He, some say it’s a she, was gently assembled,
And lies in a Pretoria museum,
Together with Mrs Ples,
Archaeologists still dig,
They insist, that there are still hidden treasures
And take great measures,
To work carefully and diligently
Excitedly say there is much more to find
Underneath and beyond the Sterkfontein caves,
Patiently, waiting to uncover
Yet another, one of a kind!
I believe with soul, heart and being
In The Almighty, maybe He even lent the
Archaeologists a helping hand, we cannot
Ignore these finds, they are not fantasy but real
Furthermore we were given the gift of logic,
And ultimately the archaeologists will kneel,
And praise and thank God Almighty!
Intense heat ripples across
the vast sand dunes of the Serengeti
where it intersects with the
silent shores of a rare desert lake
a calm, cool oasis for both
man and beast.
Taj Mahal of the desert
it is a liquid cradle of life
coveted by a thousand tongues
as languid lake mesmerizes
drawing all that breathes
to its scarce waters, casting a
mirage like spell, beckoning
with reflections set off by
the hot desert sun, to come.
Salvation for the weary traveler
primal waters implore, drink!
Drink to the full, and be filled!
For blessings, unforeseen
are at this footstool of life
a sacred spot, touched by
the hands of heaven
offering a haven of rest, respite
and tranquility for all who want.
Written on 4/9/2019
The wind
comes in at night,
bringing with it new ghosts
but I'm wrapped tight in mother's quilt,
each painstaken swatch stitched by her own hand
She sings a breathy lullabye
and rocks me to sleep in
the cradle of
the wind
'Twas God's cradle, not a stork, that carried her to earth
A babe nestled in God's loving hands prepared for birth
Still enraptured by heaven's spirit, feeling its mirth
God's hands remained after birth to ensure this child's worth
God's hands left her in safety at a monastery,
This babe grew in the loving heart of a nunnery
Her sweet cradle songs were hymns of saintly bravery
An artist she became, angels filled her gallery
Resting in our Lord's gentle palms, she never knew strife
Married to God, serving only Him as a loyal wife
From this child's birth to her death, heavenly thoughts were rife
The spiritual world remained throughout her earthly life
*For Robert Ball's "Spiritually Uplifting Poems" contest
~The Cradle~
Leafless arms extend full length.
Embracing in their curves an empty cradle
Tucked into a cozy arbor still lingering
With the scent of apple blossoms full grown
Crafted from borrowed twigs, a stolen yellow ribbon and
Pillows of soft green moss
That cradled three tiny eggs, color borrowed from the sky,
Growing into a promise of soaring into sunlight,
Waiting within the guardian
Now dreaming through frozen nights -
Sanctuary, decorated with frozen dew,
Quietly brooding-
Ready to receive the kiss of Heaven’s blessing -
Listening for the flutter of first heartbeats
And newborn wings –
Hope giving birth
When daylight lifts up hands to push aside the darkness,
Witness of the cradle born again
From borrowed twigs, a stolen yellow ribbon
Redecorated with pillows of soft moss.
Although moon glints, I am inconsolable
This womb, your harbor
Nourished by splendor of days, nights
While we wait in anticipation for life...
Fifteen weeks it is, come evening
As I imagine a baby so pure
Dwindling her toes, chuckling aloud:
Till your pulse beat slips ticks away
As my voice quietly murmurs,
'Rachel, fight the gush,
Your pink cradle waits for you at home.'
I wail through hours, ripped by breaths forlorn
The navel's cord
Disconnecting in the thorn of frozen silence,
When labor pains my body endures
Nothing to gain, everything to lose
Duskfall wakes, new morn vanishes:
Looking at you on gauzy sheets
The ghost of emptiness rears--
Depriving a cradle of laughter unborn
That I cannot imagine an angel winging,
O not now...
Not when I ache and moan unto heaven, aggrieved ~
Contest of john lawless, Let 'Er Rip Part #2
~ Based on my first cousin's experience
12/14/2018
Cradle your love gently in caring hands
Tenderly as velvety fine grained-sands
Be the rainbow in their showery days
Today tomorrow forever always.
Love graceful as pirouetting snowflakes
Enfold with warmth of a loving embrace
The life changing gift tied up with heart strings
Jewels in the crown that only love brings.
Hold onto your love, never let it go
Even when apart, let the lovelight glow
Love never dies, it’s nestled in your heart
As constant as the sun, moon and the stars.
True love, true friends and family are treasures
They’re our assets of love without measure
To be cherished for as long as we live
Blessings of our hearts to have and to give.
“No matter where you love, why or with who
Cradle with love those near and dear to you.
The Cradle And the Cross
” 20 But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Matt 1:20-21 NIV
The cradle of Christmas
Has no meaning without the Cross.
The babe we celebrate at Christmas
Was born to win us back from loss.
Part heavenly yet part human,
This gracious Christmas gift,
Was given to save mankind;
Redeem the God-mankind rift.
The Cradle and the Cross
Show us God’s great love;
Reveal his glorious power
And his life over death from above.
They give us great hope for a future—
A hope that cannot die.
When we acknowledge the Cradle and the Cross;
Upon Christ’s life and spilt blood we rely.
From Christmas to Easter
We’re reminded of the Cradle and the Cross;
The sacrificial life of God’s Son,
That his own people sought to toss.
The Cradle and the Cross
Were prophesies of old.
God’s child was born unnoticed by most,
Yet worshipped with incense, myrrh and gold.
The Cradle and the Cross
Bring forth glorious hope;
Show us that there’s nothing
Beyond God’s power and scope.
They give us reason for joy
And peace in our hearts to reign.
May the goodwill of Christmas
Be with all on earth to proclaim!
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012
www.maureenlefanue.com
From my Christmas Edition of Poetry to Touch Your Heart & Soul
[Christmas Edition]
*^.^* “COMING ¤ SOON” *^.^*