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Can anyone recommend any fab poems for my son's blessing?(16 Posts)
Just a lovely something that I can read out?
It's a bit long but I plan to have 'Oh The Places You'll Go' by Dr. Seuss for our next sprog's naming day.
By C. Day Lewis
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day-
A sunny day with the leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled - since I watched you play
Your first game of fotball, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
with the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature's give-and-take - the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one's irresolute clay.
I had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show-
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love proved in the letting go.
Author: Dora Dinsmore
From graceful lilies pure and white,
God fashioned lovely skin;
Forget-me-nots He chose for eyes,
Then formed your baby chin.
He took a tulip bright and red--
'Twas one that did not fade;
A softer, sweeter little mouth
Before was never made.
Another flower next He used--
A rosebud, pink and fair;
Touched it to your dimpled cheeks
And bade it blossom there.
Then with His magic fingers, picked
Two morning glories white;
Curled and shaped your little ears,
Soon they were fastened tight.
That crowning bit of golden down
Will soon become your hair;
He gathered pollen from the flowers
And sprinkled it with care.
For dainty little fingers dear
And precious tiny toes,
He used the slender daisy frills;
A snowdrop made your nose.
This world and all within it
He created here for man;
But Baby was "God's Masterpiece"
Since time and life began!
Thank you so much for such lovely ideas - it has sent me on a hunt and I bumped in to this one - waht do you think?
I Took His Hand and Followed
My dishes went unwashed today,
I didn't make the bed,
I took his hand and followed
Where his eager footsteps led.
Oh yes, we went adventuring,
My little son and I,
Exploring all the great outdoors
Beneath the summer sky.
We waded in a crystal stream,
We wandered through a wood;
My kitchen wasn't swept today
But life was gay and good.
We found a cool, sun-dappled glade
And now my small son knows
How Mother Bunny hides her nest,
Where jack-in-the-pulpit grows.
We watched a robin feed her young,
We climbed a sunlit hill,
Saw cloud-sheep scamper through the sky,
We plucked a daffodil.
That my house was neglected,
That I didn't brush the stairs,
In twenty years, no one on earth
Will know, or even care.
But that I've helped my little boy
To noble manhood grow,
In twenty years, the whole wide world
May look and see and know.
I'm worried it might seem a bit wishy washy or that I'm after praise of some kind - i want something that is about me loving him and wanting to make the most of my time with him I think. Like a little promise to him....
Oh thank you.
I would love to see any more ideas that anyone has of a similar theme.
We had these:
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.
Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.
This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.
Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.
It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.
"Ode on the Whole Duty of Parents," by Frances Cornford.
Ode on the Whole Duty of Parents
The spirits of children are remote and wise,
They must go free
Like fishes in the sea
Or starlings in the skies,
Whilst you remain
The shore where casually they come again.
But when there falls the stalking shade of fear,
You must be suddenly near,
You, the unstable, must become a tree
In whose unending heights of flowering green
Hangs every fruit that grows, with silver bells;
Where heart-distracting magic birds are seen
And all the things a fairy-story tells;
Though still you should possess
Roots that go deep in ordinary earth,
And strong consoling bark
To love and to caress.
Last, when at dark
Safe on the pillow lies an up-gazing head
And drinking holy eyes
Are fixed on you,
When, from behind them, questions come to birth
On all the things that you have ever said
Of suns and snakes and parallelograms and flies,
And whether these are true,
Then for a while you'll need to be no more
That sheltering shore
Or legendary tree in safety spread,
No, then you must put on
The robes of Solomon,
Or simply be
Sir Isaac Newton sitting on the bed.
Those are amazing, paricularly the second one. Wow. Mmmm - food for thought.
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