17 Century poetry

Hush a By Baby

 

'Hush a by baby, on the tree top,


When the wind blows the cradle will rock;


When the bough breaks,

 the cradle will fall,


And down will come baby,

cradle and all.'

 

This well known lullaby is still sung today to babies all over the world. It is thought to have been written by one of the ‘Pilgrims’ (religious emigrants) who sailed to America on the ship The Mayflower in 1620. The author may have been inspired to write the lullaby after witnessing the Native American practice of hanging a baby’s cradle in a tree to rock them to sleep in the breeze.


 

I believe that lullabies have a very “ sweet” meaning. I think mothers not only from remote places but from different periods  as well, felt just the same than mothers of this time. For me Lullabies are extemporal poetry. I have found this song ,which  I used to listen to when I was a child. It is  a recreation of this lullaby. I consider it really beautiful and I don’t know its origins till now.

 


'Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's going to buy you a looking glass.

And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's going to buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat won't pull,
Mama's going to buy you a cart and bull.

And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's going to buy you a dog named Rover.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,
Mama's going to buy you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.'

From a fig to my best remembers.

Leaning against a Fig tree while I was reading a book during a hot summer day, I wondered why there were so many flies buzzing all around me. I stared at one of those small flying insects that was devouring pleasantly an open fig and I remembered myself climbing that tree in order to get the same treasure the fly had got in its mouth: soft sweet fruit, deep flesh under a purple and green skin, full of small red seeds in its interior similar to our veins which carry red blood under our skin. Feeling joyful and blessed by my memories of old days in my grandmother’s house I continued reading my book with a huge smile on my face.

Multi -Genre Self Portrait Anthology

My Poems

 "I am from poem"

I am from an Imaginary Land,

where colourful doubts command,

I believe in permanent movement,

which can clear my mind,

I am from an Imaginary Land.

"Image Poem"

Tired they rest

in my wardrobe

orange dust covers them

till the next weekend 

the'll play again.

Waiting to get out,

and run in the direction of

yellow balls.

Slide on the dust 

What a match!

List Poem

Ten things found in my handbag

Sticky lollypops

Watermelon bubble gums

Shinny lipstick

Reminder notes

Colourful marbles

Empty pens

Bothersome cell phone 

Evidential tickets

Grammar books

Lovely photos,

My meaningful disorder.