Long Christine Poems
Long Christine Poems. Below are the most popular long Christine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Christine poems by poem length and keyword.
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
of things sometimes.I wonder how
he learned at all...
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates' necks.
He played with pasty Elmer's glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!) .
He earned the nickname 'teacher's PEST.'
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer's glue...
and you'll outgrow this old desk, too.
Originally published by TALESetc
A True Story
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Jeremy hit the ball today,
over the fence and far away.
So very, very far away
a neighbor had to toss it back.
(She thought it was an air attack!)
Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew across our neighbor's yard.
So very hard across her yard
the bat that boomed a mighty 'THWACK! '
now shows an eensy-teensy crack.
Originally published by TALESetc
Mother's Smile
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother Christine Ena Burch and my wife Beth Harris Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than 'much.'
So more than 'much, ' much more than 'all.'
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.
There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you!
Originally published by TALESetc
Keywords/Tags: children's poems, child, children, childhood, family, mother, father, son, daughter
So many years have gone past
that together we’ve dearly shared
at Christmas time so especially
we remember together always paired
So happy as one we have been
maybe there’s been ups and downs
but knowing God is at our side
providing all His graceful crowns
This Christmas we can look back
especially over the past 12 months
being with us during every step
our Lord was faithful more than once
So have a happy Christmas again
many thanks for all your love
for all our Christmas’s together
our love touches us both like a glove
(My Christmas poem for my lovely wife Christine having shared over 31 years and more together.)
Well, would you believe it? I can’t!
It’s all of 30 years ago we said I do
Now that date 27th April makes its mark
So much to look back on just us two
Many memories would fill all our years
Holidays galore indeed by land and air
So much happiness enjoyed so very true
But really our love has kept us a pair
I thank you, my love, for all the years
For loving me so deeply and without a pause
Keeping me on the straight and narrow all right
Forgiving me repeatedly despite my flaws
Thanks be to God for without his grace
This pearl would not have been our reach
In his providence working in our life
Teaching much about his love never to breach
(This is written to celebrate Christine and my 30th Pearl wedding anniversary today on 27th April.)
Well, what is a typical normal day?
firstly nothing is planned for sure
semi-planned maybe no cast-iron cert
so honestly, I like them always newer
8 am on the dot up wash dressed
start aright with God for daily prayer
Bible read then breakfast with a cup of tea
catch AP on PC check emails comb hair
Mid-morning go out for a Costa coffee
sometimes with Christine or on my own
then enjoy a walk in a country park
have lunch there at peace on my own
Such joys really make me smile
to be content find pleasure as I read
go home on the bus in the afternoon
read poems on AP such pleasure indeed
These days so good since I retired
such blessing to enjoy this I find
sometimes watch a DVD so to relax
or listen to music classical my kind
After meal Christine and I sit down
just enjoy each other in love to chat
then maybe write a poem when I muse
have supper before bed so that is that!
( I have written a poem that describes my typical day here in Scotland.)
Someone died last night
And no one even seems to be taking notice of their passing
Who had once been, is no more
It wasn't reported on the front page of the news
Or on the back page either, for that matter.
Their soul must have just floated
From here to there
Or from there to here
Quietly depending
On what their religious views had been.
I wouldn't have even known
Except for the quiet whisperings
Of relatives on the phone...
Still making plans...
Still talking...
Still breathing...
Even though that person they were talking about
Is no longer here.
Deader than Dead.
That's what someone said
They said that this person
Looked Deader than Dead.
That's what they said.
(January 26, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
As the morning peaks over the hill, I wander through the dark and stroll down the park and whisper a silent prayer for my rose. Its fragrance filters throughout the atmosphere touching hearts far and near, it is the part of me that you cannot see that is always crying out for thee and deep down in my heart I want you to set her free. She has sacrificed for everyone; cleaning garbage and emptying pan, but no one ever says thanks.
My heart goes out for thee and I will do anything for you to set her free, she spends longs hours typing away on the computer, writing long letter some of them are more than fifteen pages , long enough to turn into a book or a lyrical song. I don’t know exactly what she does but she works night and day and when she is not outside the yard cleaning the garbage, she is at the computer typing away.
She wants to go to a country where she can breathe fresh air, she detests being over here; I don’t’ like the way they treat her and I don’t like the way they communicate with her, sometimes my spirit groans when I look at her clothes. She walks around in dirty clothes and doesn’t even have soap to clean her body and I feel very sorry.
They use her and abuse her; she is the money-making machine and the brains behind the wheel. She is educated to the highest level but goes to bed hungry almost every night. Please help her to get out of this awful plight.
She is brilliant, focused and fit and has the remedy for everything, she is stable and kind and is in love with the divine, where that person is I don’t know but I can tell when she sits and look into space, she is bringing the image of a close friend to the center of her being .
She loves writing but she would love to do that at another place so please don’t stand in her way. Please give her what she needs so that she can fulfill her lingering dreams.She has a big soul and she love from the depth of her heart and when the day is done it breaks my heart to see that no one cares for her.
She doesn’t get pay for what she does and she work for long hours seven days per week without a single pay; they have turned her into a money machine making but I hope that she will fulfill her dreams when she unites with destiny beyond the hill, she will continue writing those inspiring letters.
That’s All
Christine
Vincent…
This is the time of the year
When I see the ravens and the crows
Especially in an open field...
It's when I think of you…
I catch myself remembering…
I have to stop myself and breathe…
I daydream of our starry nights
I think of the ravens and the crows…
I think about your untimely plight
I wonder if you ever felt like me
If you ever felt my presence near you
And I wonder now….wherever you are
If you ever missed me too.
Could you have ever imagined
Could you have possibly known
That I’d still be thinking of you
Missing you...
After more than one long century.
It’s only been a hundred years or so
Since you severed off your ear
Since you shot yourself
Since you killed yourself
Since you shortened all your years.
If I had been there and loved you
Could I have saved you from yourself
Would it have made a difference
Or would everything have turned out the same
Would we both still be feeling lonely
Would you still be thought insane?
I did love you Vincent
I just could never let it show
I didn’t know how to tell you
Back before these 100 years
I just kept hoping
that somehow you would know.
Whenever I am in Chicago
I visit the Art Institute and sigh
As I gaze upon your starry skies
I stand before your paintings in wonder
And look deep within your eyes.
I always have to ponder
If you painted thinking of me
I know that you always knew
That I loved your greens and vibrant blues
I see that you tried to show me
How the stars reflected you in my eyes
I see the colors that you have chosen
Have always revealed your truth.
When I see your painting
Of the ravens and the crows
I know that you remembered
How the sky that day looked too
How it felt to have autumn ending
And winter closing in
How wonderful that day was
How happy we had been.
The last time we were together
Everything seemed so right and true
I had no idea
Your heart had turned so blue.
Your feelings always hidden
You never said a word
How things would tragically end
There never was a clue.
So now I stand here after 100 years
I still miss you Vincent.
I really, really do.
I wonder if you are thinking of me
And if you are happy or if you are blue.
(November 16, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
I want to claim the color of love
Claim is shades, its nuances
All of them as my own
And wear them for all to see.
I want to know what color it is
I want to hear the notes I see
And where it can be found
I want to play it musically.
I want to hear love
I want to hear it on display
I want to see it in the mirror
I want to live it every day.
What is the color of love
Is it in the color of the wind
Is it in the sound of the rain
Is it in the sunlight on my skin?
Find me the color of love
I want to hold it in my hands
I want to know it dearly
I want to own it if I can.
I want to claim the color of love
Claim is shades, its nuances
All of them as my own
And wear them for all to see.
(January 28, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Late to the party we arrived at seven
At least we showed up before eleven
Sweet Ginette, joined us both at the door
A bottle in my hand ready to pour
Off to the kitchen to see the Birthday Queen
All the happy faces a beautiful scene
Hugs for Chantale, another for Helene
I met a new person, energetic like a teen
Her name if I remember, it is Jocelynne
She is married, to a cool guy his name Martin
Bruno was cooking but stopped to say hi
Christine looked happy to be with her guy
Jokes and conversation, a whole lot of fun
Happy to spend time with everyone
Dave seemed content enjoying the mood
My stomach grumbled, I was ready for food
To the table it was time to sit down
We were all treated, to the best meal in town
First Chantale prayed a blessing on us
Our Savior is great, he deserves a fuss
The meal fantastic but the Tuna was raw
I tried to eat it but it stuck in my craw
My Mary she enjoyed it, although not me
I prefer all things cooked, that come from the sea
The pasta amazing, seafood galore
The wine was superb, I let Christine pour
She sat to my left, Dave sat to my right
Everyone there, made it a perfect night
Once concluded, Christine C sang a song
A Louis Armstrong tune we all joined along
Her voice was clearest ours more like a croak
We were lost in the moment, that's not a joke.
We all started dancing, disco moves on the floor
Armand turned up the sound, as we screamed for more
First time I saw Dave dance, he cuts quite the rug
Armand has his own moves, he likes the Jittery Bug
Before too long it was time for dessert
Hot from all the candles I unbuttoned my shirt
Chantal blew out the candles after making two wishes
Armand served Mary's cake, on rectangular dishes
Chantale's special day, a day to remember
Celebrated each year, October not November
So we raised our glasses, thankful for the cheer
Together we celebrated a friend who is dear!
If the spirit moves me I will speak
I will share words
that no-one wants to hear
I will speak them
I will speak them loud and clear
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me I will see
I will see Beauty
that no-one else can see
I will see it far and near
around me and in all things
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me I will hear
I will hear things
no-one else can hear
I will hear the universe
speaking to me and I will hear
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me
I will feel
I will feel the pain of others
I will feel their happiness too
I will be able to empathize
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me
I will taste joy and laughter
I will live my life in peace
I will find love
I will live on in the ever-after
If the spirit moves me
© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(October 25, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)