Poetry of Hope - Poetry About Children
Poetry of Hope - A journey of hope for the soul, mind, and spirit.

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"Poetry About Children"


 


To Cherish My Child

In dedication to my precious daughter, Joanna.


Look into your child's eyes and cherish what is there.

Cherish the seed of consciousness,
    the seed of confidence,
    the seed of creativity,
    the seeds that grow within.
Cherish your child with your eyes.
Do not do so only twice or thrice,
But forever--for childhood to the child seems forever.

Cherish your child with your heart
    for therein lies the soul of your being,
    the child of long ago in a far away land
    full of life and creative self expression.

Open the forces around your being,
    the breath of life itself,
    the moments of truth revealed,
    the lasting joy of the moment.

Teach not only with your mouth,
    but with your action and being.
For who you really are is seen by your child,
   and held up as a standard to look upon
    for the quality of life.

Open your soul.
Cherish your child.

©1996 Sharon Terry


Saturday

No, No, No, Don't make me think today.
It's Saturday.
It's my day to dream.

©Sharon Terry

Sitting Place

"I want to sit
In your sitting place,"
She said.
"Okay," I thought,
"Since she's going to do it anyway."
Will she find my treasure,
Or can it only be seen
With my eyes?
Do you have a sitting place?

©Sharon Terry


She Kept Asking Me

She kept asking me
About the little animal
Who lived in that shell.
Why did it move out?
I couldn't answer,
Can you?
Some things
          don't have an answer.
How do you tell that
          to a two-year-old?
I wonder,
I am silent,
Silence.

©Sharon Terry

Abigail

The quiet surrounds me.
It's almost time for another feeding.
She looks so tiny in the small, small bed.
So perfect, so smooth, so round, so beautiful.
How did this one come to be?
We weren't expecting it to happen again-
    this glorious pregnancy.
But it did, and how can we but love
    this beautiful being sent from heaven.
Won't they miss her there?
Yes, but only for a time.
She is on loan from heaven,
    a shared child of wonder.
And when she returns, she will be missed here,
    but only for a time.

The woman I see before me now
    in dreams of what she'll be
Is encircled in the child so soft,
    so round,
To waken beyond all dreaming
    at the proper time of reason to our minds.
Yet wonders hold a mystery of love.

©Sharon Terry
1996


The Story Quilt by Sharon Terry

The story quilt lay on the rug
    opened flat
        as if waiting
            for my hands
                and eyes
                    to admire it.

In the corner,
   lay a tiny heart
      so small
          that only in the unbroken line of stitches
              could its outline be seen
                  by my eyes and touched
                      by my fingers?

No other hearts lay about its edges
    or at its center.

It was a mystery
    this story quilt.

My aunt had said
    my grandmother said
        her mother said it was
            a quilt of love,
                a story quilt,
                    but nothing more of
                        the story remained.

It was a mystery.

A thousand times,
    I had touched its border
        with fingers and eyes
                and wondered and dreamed
                    of the story
                        it had told so long ago.

It was a mystery.

Within me,
    I knew somehow   
        that heart was mine
            connecting me with a
                child my age of long ago,
                    a girl who loved hearts,
                        a girl like me.

It was a mystery.

And someday,
    I would give it to my child
        and put her under the spell
            of the story quilt
                and let her fingers and
                    her eyes touch its wonders
                        and dream its dreams
                            and wonder at the mystery.

©1994 Sharon Terry


The Story Quilt

 

 

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