Here’s a poem you might enjoy. Written by my God father...
NO BIRTHDAY
I never had a birthday,
A party or a cake;
Never had a chance to play,
or watch the sun awake.
I ne’er beheld the seasons fair—
Saw winter, spring, or fall;
Or felt a brush of summer air,
Or heard a wildbird call.
I never saw a lark in flight,
Beheld a flowering tree;
Or gazed upon the stars at night—
Nor sailed upon the sea.
No chance had I to go to school,
And be with girls and boys,
Go swimming in a shady pool,
Or make a little noise.
And Christmas joys were not for me,
Ne’er would a New Year ring;
I’ll never gather ‘round a tree,
And happy carols sing.
But most, I never knew of love—
To give, or to receive;
I never heard of God above,
Knew nothing to believe.
And even when I died, so young,
I had no funeral;
No one to weep, no saddend song—
I had no burial.
You see, I was aborted—
Torn from my mothers womb;
She really had no time for me,
A bucket was my tomb.
And now I think what might have been’
If I’d a chance to live;
A chance to try, —to sink or swim,
And of myself to give.
So, won’t you set a day aside—
A birthday once a year;
A day for me, who so young died,
Unloved, unwanted here.
********
Copyright 1975 Richard Kenny,
All rights reserved
Copyright 1997 imababy.com
You may freely distribute or publish this poem
as long as it includes these copyright notices.
What a heartbreaking poem. Thanks for posting it.
Absolutely fantastic. My warmest congratulations to your Godfather.
Thanks for the touching poem. God bless you.
Here’s a haunting song by Michael Card.
I’m copying your poem after it so that I don’t have to go search for it later.
The Spirit of the Age (by Michael Card)
I thought that I heard crying coming through my door.
Was it Rachel weeping for her sons who were no more?
Could it have been the babies crying for themselves,
Never understanding why they died for someone else?
The voices head of weeping and of wailing,
History speaks of it on every page.
Of innocent and helpless little babies,
Offerings to the spirit of the age.
No way of understanding this sad and painful sign.
Whenever Satan rears his head there comes a tragic time.
If he could crush the cradle, then that would stop the cross.
He knew that once the Light was born his every hope was lost!
Now every age had heard it, the voice that speaks from hell.
“Sacrifice your children and for you it will be well.”
The subtle serpent’s lying, his dark and ruthless rage.
Behold it is revealed to be the spirit of the age!
Soon all the ones who seemed to die for nothing
Will stand beside the Ancient of Days,
With joy we’ll see that Infant from a manger
Come and crush the spirit of the age
.
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Poem written by babygene’s God father...
NO BIRTHDAY
I never had a birthday,
A party or a cake;
Never had a chance to play,
or watch the sun awake.
I ne’er beheld the seasons fair—
Saw winter, spring, or fall;
Or felt a brush of summer air,
Or heard a wildbird call.
I never saw a lark in flight,
Beheld a flowering tree;
Or gazed upon the stars at night—
Nor sailed upon the sea.
No chance had I to go to school,
And be with girls and boys,
Go swimming in a shady pool,
Or make a little noise.
And Christmas joys were not for me,
Ne’er would a New Year ring;
I’ll never gather ‘round a tree,
And happy carols sing.
But most, I never knew of love—
To give, or to receive;
I never heard of God above,
Knew nothing to believe.
And even when I died, so young,
I had no funeral;
No one to weep, no saddend song—
I had no burial.
You see, I was aborted—
Torn from my mothers womb;
She really had no time for me,
A bucket was my tomb.
And now I think what might have been’
If I’d a chance to live;
A chance to try, —to sink or swim,
And of myself to give.
So, won’t you set a day aside—
A birthday once a year;
A day for me, who so young died,
Unloved, unwanted here.
********
Copyright 1975 Richard Kenny,
All rights reserved
Copyright 1997 imababy.com
You may freely distribute or publish this poem
as long as it includes these copyright notices.