Cruel Is The Mother
Cruel is the mother whose hands rip and rupture the earth
Cruel is the mother whose gaze freezes water
Cruel is the mother whose breath blows down forests
Cruel is the mother whose tears are torrents flooding the lands
Cruel is the mother whose mouth spits fire into the air
Cruel is the mother whose footsteps flatten mountains
Cruel is the mother whose great arms create great waves
Cruel is the Mother, that Mother of Nature.
John Rice
The author encourages parents, teachers and librarians to read the poems to children and young people. However, the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
Random Poetry!
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The Cry-Babies that Live in the Sun
When the Satsuma sun rises on a soft summer morningthe Cry-Babies are tearful:
“Phew, phew! Too hot, too hot! I want the sun to set!” they howl.
When the sallow sun sets on a wild winter eveningthe Cry-Babies are snivelling:
“Brrr, brrr! Too cold, too cold! I want the sun to rise!” they bawl.
Silly little Cry-Babies! Don’t know what they want.Darkness, lightness…coldness, warmness…happiness, sadness.
“Yes! Yes! That’s what we want! All them! All them!”
Cry-Babies…huh!
John Rice
The author encourages parents, teachers and librarians to read the poems to children and young people. However, the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
