Friend Family Poems

The Littlest Christmas Tree The littlest Christmas tree lived in a meadow of green among a family of tall evergreens. He learned how to whisper the evergreen song with the slightest of wind that came gently along. He watched as the birds made a home out of twigs, and couldn't wait till he, too, was big. For all of the trees offered a home, the maple, the pine, and the oak, who's so strong. "I hate being little," the little tree said, "I can't even turn colors like the maple turns red. I can't help the animals like the mighty old oak. He shelters them all in his wide mighty cloak." The older tree said, "Why, little tree, you don't know? The story of a mighty king from the land with no snow?" Little tree questioned, "A land with no snow?" "Yes!" said old tree, "A very old story, from so long ago." "A star appeared,  giv...

Books My best friend is a book that doesn't give me a weird look. It is like a golden door that takes me to the land where I have never been before. It tells me the tales of a fairy that take me to the land full of merry. Some books are boring like history, which is like a big mystery. Books are the source of enlightenment that vanquish darkness and fill our life with brightness.

Being Brave At Night The other night 'bout two o'clock, or maybe it was three, An elephant with shining tusks came chasing after me. His trunk was wavin' in the air an' spoutin' jets of steam An' he was out to eat me up, but still I didn't scream Or let him see that I was scared - a better thought I had, I just escaped from where I was and crawled in bed with dad. One time there was a giant who was horrible to see, He had three heads and twenty arms, an' he came after me And red hot fire came from his mouths and every hand was red And he declared he'd grind my bones and make them into bread. But I was just too smart for him, I fooled him might bad, Before his hands could collar me I crawled in bed with dad. I ain't scared of nothin that comes pesterin' me at night. Once I was chased by forty ghosts all shimmery an' white. An' I just raced 'em round the room an' let 'em think maybe ...

Snowball I made myself a snowball As perfect as could be. I thought I'd keep it as a pet And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas And a pillow for its head. Then last night it ran away, But first it wet the bed.

United Do we stay silent Or raise our voices? Do we give in Or make our choices? This is our chance.  This is our threat. This is our choice.  And we're not finished yet. We stand together  And await the light This is our chance,  This is our fight. Here we're standing,  United and strong. We're not giving this up. We're not moving on. This is our voice;  This is what we came to show. This is our choice, And we're not letting go This is our word. You give what you get. This is our world,  And we're not finished yet. We stand beside you,  Ready to pay our debt We stand united Because we're not finished yet. Children are born every day,  Waiting for someone to trust. Dreams are dreamed every day  But left alone to rust. Raise your voices; stand up tall. You know this is unjust. Make your choices; stand from the fall, Because dreams are counting on...

Mommy Will Sing A Lullaby All tucked up and snug in bed  as angels stand guard above your head, Mommy will kiss away your fears. She'll stroke your hair and dry your tears. She softly sings a lullaby  about the stars up in the sky.  Twinkle, twinkle star so bright,  shining down on us tonight. Her breath is warm upon your face  as you lie still in her embrace.  With sleepy eyes you gaze at mom as the moon comes up to replace the sun.  Tomorrow will be another day  where you'll have fun, laugh, and play.  But sleep for now, and Mommy will sing a song for you  and you will smile the whole way through. She gently holds your hand in hers, your fingers wrapped around her thumb. These are treasured moments as she waits for sleep to come.  Her voice is but a whisper now; her tone is soft and true, for there is nowhere in the world she'd rather be than lying here with you.

The Stick-Together Families The stick-together families are happier by far Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are. The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break. And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done. There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise, And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties. Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way, Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play. But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find, For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind. There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam, That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home. That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far ...