A Short Poem about the Life of a Child, based on a Persian Verse
Kids Songs Around the World with English Translations
or French Translations
or Spanish Translations
Mama Lisa's World Blog
English Nursery Rhymes
Mother Goose in French
Wizard of Oz Audiobook
Poetry for Kids
ML Reviews
Mama Lisa's Hub
This is the Poems Archive Page
- Crocodile Tears (1)
- Dandelion Poem (1)
- I Met a Man Who Wasn't There (1)
- Mother's Day Poems (7)
- Poem about Friendship (1)
- Poems about Children (1)
- Poems about Cleanliness (1)
- Spinning Top (1)
- The Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast (1)
- The New Moon (1)
- The Star (1)
- When the Moon was Blue (1)
Categories
- 1512 (1)
- Arts and Crafts (21)
- Books (56)
- Children's Songs (432)
- Countries & Cultures (912)
- Customs (42)
- Folk Lore (6)
- Folk Songs (76)
- Food & Nutrition (4)
- Games (40)
- Gardens (2)
- History of Nursery Rhymes (8)
- Holiday Calendar (1)
- Holiday Songs (154)
- Holidays Around the World (340)
- Languages (723)
- Learning (37)
- Lullabies (40)
- Mama Lisa (422)
- Movies & TV (23)
- Music (63)
- Nursery Rhymes (161)
- Parenting (72)
- People (18)
- Photos (27)
- Podcasts (29)
- Poetry (96)
- Proverbs (20)
- Questions (309)
- Quotes (7)
- Recipes of the World (74)
- Recommendations (62)
- Recordings of Nursery Rhymes (19)
- Recordings of Songs (101)
- Rhymes by Theme (42)
- Seasonal (29)
- Songs by Theme (69)
- Teaching (41)
- Traditional Songs (2)
- Traveling (35)
- Video (23)
- Words & Phrases (16)
- YouTube (70)
My Tweets
Archive for the 'Poems' Category
Contents
Posts
A Short Poem about the Life of a Child, based on a Persian Verse
Friday, November 13th, 2009This is a short, four lined poem that encompasses a child’s life from birth till death. It seems sad, yet it’s really a wish for a happy life full of people who care for the child…
The Babe
On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat’st while all around thee smiled:
So live, that, sinking to thy life’s last sleep,
Calm thou may’st smile, while all around thee weep.William Jones (1746-1794)
William Jones was a Persian scholar and linguist. He translated this poem from a Persian poem by an unknown author. This poem is sometimes called “The Babe”, sometimes “On Parent Knees”, and sometimes “Epigram”. An Epigram is a short, witty poem. It can also mean a paradoxical statement.
If anyone knows the original Persian version, please send me a copy at lisa@mamalisa.com and I’ll add it to this post.
Thanks!
Lisa
“You’re Not Supposed to Say That!” – Mama Lisa’s Thanksgiving Silliness
Monday, November 2nd, 2009Here’s a Thanksgiving poem I wrote in honor of turkeys all over the U.S. in autumn. It’s geared towards older kids.
You can click on the mp3 below to hear my husband and me recite it…
You’re Not Supposed to Say That!
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” said the turkey.
“What?!” went the rooster.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“You’re not supposed to say
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Said the rooster.
“Oh yes I am!”
Said the turkey.
“No you’re not!”
Said the rooster.
“What am I supposed to say?”
Asked the turkey.
The rooster replied,
“Gobble, gobble, gobble!”
“BOOM”
Went the farmer’s gun
And the rooster fell down dead.
“Don’t tell me what I’m
Supposed to say!”
Said the turkey,
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”Many thanks to my husband, Jason Pomerantz, for playing the part of the Turkey (hee, hee, hee)!
Hope you enjoyed the show!
Mama Lisa
Walt Whitman’s Woods and his Poem "Miracles"
Thursday, October 29th, 2009
We took a walk today in Walt Whitman’s woods in West Hills, on Long Island, east of New York City. I highly recommend taking an autumnal hike or stroll if you can. Then you may feel the truth in Whitman’s line, "As to me I know of nothing else but miracles". There’s much beauty out there. Here are some photos I took in Walt’s woods, followed by his poem "Miracles", and then recordings of two people reading the poem.
Miracles
by Walt WhitmanWhy, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim-the rocks-the motion of the waves-the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?*****
Poem – The Bee by Emily Dickinson
Friday, August 7th, 2009The Bee His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for the bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!Emily Dickinson – Poems XV
Poem: Spinning Top
Wednesday, July 15th, 2009Spinning Top
When I spin round without a stop
And keep my balance like the top,
I find that soon the floor will swim
Before my eyes; and then, like him,
I lie all dizzy on the floor
Until I feel like spinning more.
Gobolinks
Thursday, June 18th, 2009
A Gobolink is like an inkblot, but it’s made for fun, not for psychological analysis! To make a gobolink, you drop a little ink on a sheet of white paper. Fold the paper in half and press down the ink on the two halves of the paper. Then you open the paper and you have a unified image. (You’ll have a mirror image on each side of the folded paper.)
You can see an old book of these images online at the Library of Congress. It’s called Gobolinks, or Shadow-Pictures for Young and Old, by Ruth McEnery Stuart and Albert Bigelow Paine. (New York: The Century Co., 1896). The authors wrote poems and limericks to go along with their gobolinks.
Here are a couple of my favorites from the book…
The Tail of Taddy Pole
There was a little polliwog
His name was Taddy Pole.
He lived within a little bog
Beside a crawfish hole.
And all the day did Taddy play,
Around a sunken log.
Until he lost his tail one day,
And then he was a frog.*****
The Faithful Notes
An old guitar once broke its strings,
And all the musical notes took wings;
They hurried away to lands afar
But two of them stayed with the old guitar.Enjoy!
Mama Lisa
On Friendship…
Monday, June 15th, 2009Friendship is no plant of hasty growth,
Though planted in esteem’s deep-fixed soil,
The gradual culture of kind intercourse
Must bring it to perfection.By Joanna Baillie
Crocodile Tears – A Poem
Saturday, June 13th, 2009"Crocodile Tears" is a poem that could be sung as a song. The expression "Crocodile Tears" means an insincere show of emotions. According to Wikipedia, "The expression comes from an ancient anecdote that crocodiles weep in order to lure their prey, or that they cry for the victims they are eating. They are fake tears."
Here’s the poem called "Crocodile Tears"…
Crocodile Tears
On the banks of the Nile an old crocodile
Lay sunning himself one day,
And he gently did croon an attempt at a tune,
As he watched some small children at play-
At play-
As he watched some small children at play.He pondered awhile, and a hungering smile
Revealed the extent of his jaw;
He was twenty feet long, was uncommonly strong,
And his teeth were arranged like a saw-
Like a saw-
And his teeth were arranged like a saw.He used every wile their hearts to beguile,
As toward them he stealthily stole;
He balanced each scale, and waggled his tail,
Then gobbled those children up whole-
Up whole-
Then gobbled those children up whole.And such is the style of this old crocodile,
He sheds bitter tears o’er his prey;
He was filled with deep gloom when he thought of their doom,
And he wept all the rest of the day-
The day-
And he wept all the rest of the day.Beware of a crocodile’s tears, better yet, beware of the crocodile itself!
Mama Lisa
PS The image is from "Grosses bêtes & petites bêtes", images and text by André-Hellé (Paris, 1912), with a little graphical editing by Mama Lisa.
“My Shadow” a Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson with MP3
Friday, May 29th, 2009“My Shadow” is a wonderful poem by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-94). It’s a great piece to share with your kids, grandkids or students! You can listen to it recited, by clicking the link below…
My Shadow
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward, you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.Enjoy!
Mama Lisa
A Memorial Day Poem
Friday, May 22nd, 2009
MEMORIAL FLOWERS.
By M. M.Blue violets open their saintly eyes,
Red columbines bend and sway,
White star-flowers twinkle in beds of moss,
And, blooming, they seem to say,
“We bring you the red and the white and the blue
To welcome Memorial-day.”So gather them, children, at earliest dawn,
While yet they are fresh with dew,
And we’ll scatter them over the sacred mounds
Where slumber our soldiers true;
For we’ll give them only the colors they loved-
The red and the white and the blue.
Dandelion Poem
Friday, May 22nd, 2009DANDELION.
By Amy Ella Blanchard“Golden-head, Golden-head,
The sun must have kissed you.”
“So he did,” said Golden-head,
“Just before he went to bed.”
“Golden-head, you’re a white head;
The frost must have nipped you.”
“No; he would not be so bold;
I am only growing old.”
“Puffy-ball, Puffy-ball,
Where’s the wind taking you?
I’m afraid another day
You will all be blown away.”
Only a Mother’s Love – A Spanish Poem with an MP3 Recording
Saturday, May 2nd, 2009It’s May, the month for Mothers Day around the world! Here’s a Spanish poem called “Sólo el Amor de Una Madre”. You’ll find it below in the original Spanish, with an English translation and an MP3 recording of it being recited in Spanish…
Sólo el Amor de Una Madre
Sólo el amor de una Madre apoyará,
Cuando todo el mundo deja de hacerlo.Sólo el amor de una Madre confiará,
Cuando nadie otro cree.Sólo el amor de una Madre perdonará,
Cuando ninguno otro entenderá.Sólo el amor de una Madre honrará,
No importa en qué pruebas has estado.Sólo el amor de una Madre resistirá,
Por cualquier tiempo de prueba.No hay ningún otro amor terrenal,
Más grande que el de una Madre.MP3 Recording of Sólo el Amor de Una Madre by Monique Palomares.
Here’s the English translation penned by me, Lisa Yannucci, and my colleague, Monique Palomares, who works with me on Mamá Lisa’s World en español… Enjoy!
Only a Mother’s Love
Only a mother’s love will sustain,
When nobody else does.Only a mother’s love will trust,
When nobody else believes.Only a mother’s love will forgive,
When nobody else understands.Only a mother’s love will honor,
Whatever the cause.Only a mother’s love will withstand,
Any test of time.There is no other earthly love,
Greater than that of a mother.Many thanks to Monique for helping with the translation and for reciting this poem for us!
Here are some other posts about Mother’s Day, including other poems:
Happy Mother’s Day!
Mama Lisa
MY MOTHER. – A Poem
Thursday, April 30th, 2009Mother’s Day is celebrated in May in many countries around the world. Here’s a poem called "My Mother" from a publication called Spring Blossoms…
MY MOTHER.
In infancy’s unconscious day,
I weak and helpless long did lay,
Who o’er my form did watch and pray,
My Mother.Who nourished me with fondest care,
And bore me forth to take the air,
And plucked me fruits and flowers rare,
My Mother.Who daily, as I older grew,
Still taught me lessons bright and true,
And virtue’s path kept in my view,
My Mother.Oh, may I truly, every year,
Return with love and tender care,
The blessings I from thee did share,
My Mother.Here are some other posts about Mother’s Day, including other poems:
Happy Mother’s Day!
Mama Lisa
Some Proverbs about Earth for Earth Day
Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009Here are some proverbs for Earth Day…
Old Proverbs:
-The Earth produces all things and receives all again.
-Earth is the Best Shelter
-What the heaven showers down, the Earth drinks up. (Greek Proverb)This one is not about the Earth, but it involves the Earth.
-Six feet of earth make all men of one size. (Italian – Sei pie di terra agguaglion tutti.)
Here’s a line from Tennyson, The Day Dream (L’ Envoi.):
We are Ancients of the earth,
And in the morning of the times.Happy Earth Day!
Mama Lisa
PS Feel free to add any poems or proverbs about Earth in the comments below.
Early Spring a Poem by Fay Inchfawn with an MP3 Recording
Friday, April 3rd, 2009Here’s a lovely poem called Early Spring by Fay Inchfawn. Inchfawn’s real name was Elizabeth Rebecca Ward (1880 – 1978). She was born in England.
Early Spring
Quick through the gates of Fairyland
The South Wind forced his way.
‘Twas his to make the Earth forget
Her grief of yesterday.
“‘Tis mine,” cried he, “to bring her joy!”
And on his lightsome feet
In haste he slung the snowdrop bells,
Pushed past the Fairy sentinels,
And out with laughter sweet.Clear flames of Crocus glimmered on
The shining way he went.
He whispered to the trees strange tales
Of wondrous sweet intent,
When, suddenly, his witching voice
With timbre rich and rare,
Rang through the woodlands till it cleft
Earth’s silent solitudes, and left
A Dream of Roses there!You can read a whole book of Elizabeth Ward’s poetry called The Verse-Book Of A Homely Woman online at Project Gutenberg.
A Poem about a Baby
Thursday, March 12th, 2009I know sometimes people are looking for poems to give when a baby is born. I just came across this one today…
BABY’S EYES.
When the baby’s eyes are blue,
Think we of a summer day,
Violets, and dancing rills*.
When the baby’s eyes are gray,
Doves and dawn are brought to mind.
Brown—of gentle fawns we dream,
And ripe nuts in shady woods.
Black—of midnight skies that gleam
With bright stars. But blue or gray,
Black or brown, like flower or star,
Sweeter eyes can never be
To mamma than baby’s are.*little brooks
This poem can be found in Harper’s Young People, January 20, 1880.
Strange Take on Childhood Back in the Late 1800’s
Friday, March 6th, 2009Harper’s Young People was an illustrated weekly published in New York in the late 1800’s. I came across this poem called Spoon-faces from an 1879 issue.
It’s hard to imagine this poem being written in the US today. Parents might still want to dissuade their kids from whining and frowning… but from giggling? If a kid is frowning, shouldn’t the parent figure find out what’s wrong in the first place? Not many American parents today would want to try to stop their children from laughing and giggling or disregard a frown. Here’s the poem…
SPOON-FACES.
When they’re bright and shining
Like the summer moons,
Two queer faces look at you
From the silver spoons.
One is very long, and one
Broad as it can be,
And both of them are grewsome things,
As ever you did see.Then careful be, young people,
And do not whine or frown,
Lest some day you discover
Your chin’s a-growing down.
Nor must you giggle all the time
As though you were but loons;
We want no children’s faces
Like those in silver spoons.It’s interesting to see how parenting ideas change over time. What will people say about how we parent in 100 years? Just this week I read an article in the New York Times about how our generation is making our kids obsessed about eating healthy foods (organic only, no trans-fats, low salt, etc.) – potentially encouraging eating disorders down the road. Maybe the key is not to push anything too hard on kids of any generation.
Feel free to let us know what you think in the comments below.
This poem can be found online at Project Gutenberg: Harper’s Young People, December 16, 1879.
-Mama Lisa
Walter de la Mare Poem “SOME ONE”
Thursday, March 5th, 2009Nancy wrote to me looking for: “the complete poem by Walter de la Mare which starts with: ‘Someone came a-knocking on my wee small door….’”
Here is Walter de la Mare’s poem called SOME ONE:
SOME ONE
Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Some one came knocking,
I’m sure – sure – sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But naught there was a-stirring
In the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest
The screech-owl’s call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.You can find this poem online in PEACOCK PIE A Book of Rhymes by Walter de la Mare.
Here’s another poem from the book you might like…
SILVER
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon:
This way, and that, she peers and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam
By silver reeds in a silver stream.Hope you enjoy them!
Mama Lisa
Poem: “If You Saw a Goat Buttoned in a Coat”
Sunday, February 15th, 2009Here’s a fun little poem I just came across in a book from 1885 called Friends in Feathers and Fur, and Other Neighbors by James Johonnot.
If you saw a goat
Buttoned in a coat;
If you saw a rat
Dressed up in a hat;
If you saw a lamb
Take a slice of ham;
If you saw a bear
Combing out its hair;
If you saw an ox
Opening a box;
If you saw a pig
Eat a nice new fig;
If you saw a mouse
Throwing down a house;
If you saw a stag
Picking up a rag;
If you saw a cow
Make a pretty bow;
If you saw a fly
Take its slate and cry-
You would surely say,
"What peculiar play!"
Or would surely sing,
"What a funny thing!"Enjoy!
Mama Lisa
An Occitan Poem for Autumn
Monday, September 22nd, 2008Here’s a short, pretty, Occitan poem to mark the start of Fall. Occitan is a language spoken in parts of southern France, Spain and Italy. It was the language of the troubadours.
Monique Palomares, who works with me on Mama Lisa’s World en français, sent sent the poem to me.
The poem was written by Louisa Paulin (1888 – 1944). Below you’ll find the original poem in Occitan with a recording, followed by an English translation. The translation was mainly done by Monique, with a little help from me. It was recited by Monique.
Silenci de l’auton
(Occitan)Silenci de l’auton quand lo vent s’es pausat
doç coma una pluma de palomba
escapada de la negra man del caçaire.
Silenci saure de l’auton
ont s’ausis la darrièra vèspa
e lo mai escondut al plus prigond del còr.Recording of Silenci de l’auton
Here’s an English Translation:
Silence of the Fall
by Louisa PaulinSilence of the Fall when the wind calmed down
as soft as a dove’s feather,
slipped from the hunter’s black hand.
Golden silence of the Fall
when one hears the last wasp
and what’s most hidden in the depths of the heart.Many thanks to Monique for the poem, recording and translation!
Mama Lisa
________
Copyright ©2009 by Lisa Yannucci. All rights reserved.
Help Support
Mama Lisa's World!
$5, $10, $25
or any amount welcome!
Advertisements
