Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Baby Free Verse Poems | Free Verse Poems About Baby

These Baby Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Baby. These are the best examples of Baby Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Free verse | |

A Wish -re-post-

A WISH -- In Memory Of 

"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?

Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this, and make 
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.

In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013  ---   RIP March 25, 2013

----------
by;PD  :-(


Details | Free verse | |

Aftermath

That December
I stumbled through twisted tinsel streets,
oblivious to ice and seasonal shouts,
muffled by snow-silence; a mannequin moving through mists,
quietly fragmenting behind frost-fragile walls of frailty.

Bleak winds blew open the hinges of my hypothermic heart,
wailed a wintry lament only I could hear -
ice-shrapnel words blown to lodge in my ear: you've lost the baby.
Those four words were spiked icicles, glacier-cold;
hope disintegrated like snow-powder as they pierced me.

Streets seemed pregnant with the plumpness of babies,
their waxen doll faces bluish and cold,
their pink gummy mouths demanding, demanding.
And my breasts were frozen roses,
too iced to feed their tiny need.

Snowflakes trembled like butterflies blown from the Arctic,
or the feeble flutter of a failing foetal heartbeat.
The town became a barren expanse of white:
cold crystals drifting, acres of snow-diamond light.
But shops shimmered with heat, bulged bauble-gaudy

with the fatness of consumerism.
And I was reed-slender, my womb a hollowed-out tomb.
Everywhere, babies bloomed, precious as poinsettias,
mouths like petals, squirmy with hungry red cries and squalls,
echoing, echoing, as I squinted into the white squall.

And a ribbon of milk unloosed itself silently,
sudden and scalding, like a fountaining of tears;
a lacework trace soaking my shimmer thread sweater dress;
a single, small, white thaw as I silently unravelled,
stumbling through streets that spooled like silver yarn -

that December.





9/11/2013
for 'Fragment' contest


Details | Free verse | |

Through the Door

Can you see them run to me – arms wide and laughing,
calling me, Mama: keeper of the stars, moon and hearts?
Can you see them kiss away my pain, healing every hurt
that’s ever marked me broken, dead or dying?

Can you see them hurt me? When they curse me, flay me; 
ground me with their unformed anger and bravado-uncertainty
until they fly behind doors, crying over what they’ve said – 
wishing they could take it back? 

O’, does that pride HURT! 
It stabs the chest and holds…holds…holds.
Can you see them behind doors and feel their wishful hearts burn? 
Can you feel them loving me through it all?
Love is not something easily hidden. Love like that breaks down doors – 
                                    sees through them. 
Can you see my tears; feel the weight of them on your cheeks? 
They are yours. 
Where you are (past the furthest/closest door) can you see me in them? 
Can you see the love I kept hidden in my dark and painful dungeon? 
You never knew what he did to me – but deep down, I blamed you anyway. 
There was only you left, you see; always you.
Can you see, I'm just like you?

If you can see me, you know. 
And if you can hear me crying through this God Damned pen (all those notes – 
all those written sorry’s slipped beneath doors - you must have known that
even at 37, I’d write you my heart in a note!)

You, Gran/Mother, are my one and only regret. 
That for 7 years, I treated you like a burden, a bother, and a barrier. 
I treated you like you should have treated me – an unintentional intruder;
like something taken, not given. 
But worse than that, I treated you like an acquaintance. 
Knowing how badly that must have hurt you, makes me want to be kicked in the face 
until I am unrecognizable; to the rest of the world, and myself. 

But life’s not like that, is it? No. You knew that, too. 

My baby boy has your nose, ears, and eyes. 
Do you think that if I whisper in his ear tonight while he sleeps (between you and me – 
at the doorway), you could hear me?
Tonight, I will whisper love in his perfect ear (pressed up against heaven’s door) -
maybe you will hear me say,

“Indy…Gran, I’m so sorry. If you can hear me, please give me a sign so I will know 
you’ve heard me. I want to see you smile again – just one more time…please…
let me know that somewhere, behind the door, you forgive me…”

And in the darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight covering his small face
like an angel’s kiss, the baby boy in her likeness, smiled.


Details | Free verse | |

CRAVING FOR BABY STARS



Children growing old and fading
innocence shattered with the belts of curses
frozen between the first stage 
of a baby's breath and  navel,
desperate to return to some other’s families
years of return and exchange
thrown from garbage to luggage…
foster mother,
    unit mother,
      nun mother,
        volunteer mother…
what’s a mother?

And I watch broken toddlers come and go
some small, a few tall, others weak, 
most climbing inside tears or curling inside fire
nonetheless they are all the same...
they just want to be normal kids;
and I feel how they crave to belong 
in a nest of stars without love’s regret.

I cradle their dreams with healing balm
pouring grains of future’s summer dreams,
as I watch them come and go…
these, my “children” fly with kindling hope
playing as if to forget the numbness of dragged pain
steady still in the passing of raided fetal storms…
"Can you stay?"
   "When will you come back?"
     "Am I pretty or not?"
       "will my nightmares stop?"

And I watch broken toddlers come and go
changing, always changing my own truth…
Oh there’s so much more I need to know.

.........................
For the children of an orphanage where
I volunteer as a counselor.

Charlotte Puddifoot's Confessionalism Contest
9/02/2014







Details | Free verse | |

Precious Shell

Rose-veined, you opened the heart vein in me
as I crested each white wave of grief.
Nipple-rosy, you suckled sadness like mother milk;

miraculous, whorled in warm salt waters -
small sea-curled shell, rocked by my body's waves.
When sea-voiced songs swirled into the pearled

shell of your ear did you hear
my breeze blown words, wave-whispered?
Small, balled conch of cute, ocean floating

but clam-clamped to the placental shore,
tethered by a soft seaweed sway.
Little love limpet, lodged forever

beneath my heart's carapace -
a memory mollusc
clinging to my dry driftwood days.



8/6/2014
for 'Leaf, Feather, Shell or Flake' contest


Details | Free verse | |

Elephant Leg

There’s a part of you 
I cannot see or touch.  

In the dark, alone, I know 
every curve of your body.  
I could sculpt you from memory.  
Each detail vivid in 
my mind’s eye.  

The baby nail on your baby toe.  
This neck that takes to kissing.  
I know the moment when your 
hip becomes belly.  
Just there.  

But there’s a part of you I 
cannot see or touch.  Hidden, I want to 
know it all the more.  
Behind your eyes, inside 
your heart, that essential 
you, separate from this 
fragile tissue hanging, draped, over bone.  

I watch you move when 
you’re not looking.  
Standing, your toes curling.  
Twisting the end of your hair while thinking.  
Asleep, I know your breathing.  
You hold the morning cup like a chalice.  
Little lines around your eyes deepen sometimes.  

These things are pieces of a whole I ache to know.
This elephant leg obscured by sightless eyes can 
be anything.  Groping blindly toward
the totality of you, revealed in fits and starts.

This life of mine no longer turned inward.
Every day I have new discoveries to make.


Details | Free verse | |

Toothless Fairy

Infectious grinner 
Found a ten dollar
bill..
Lost tooth to an
apple..












Inspiration € Ode
to:- 
My late cousin who
had a contagious
laughter. 
We lost the 18year old to an
accident.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest name:- Any poem under five lines#2
Sponsored by:- A Poet Destroyer
Win:- 8th Place


Details | Free verse | |

My Baby, My Love

My baby, I love you
My baby, I love everything about you...
My love is eternal
My love for you is neverending!

Though I may complain
And act childish at times
And say a few wrong things
Though I get mad
Or argue with you
Doesn't mean I don't love you...
In fact I love
The sound of your voice
Though I may not show it
I love your body
And your very mind
I love everything about you!

Even if you're a mystery
It only attracts me more to you...
And I don't think that I can stay
Mad at you for anything!

I believe my heart
For it is the truth
Steering me the right way
Backed by my thoughts
You only seem to be
More beautiful everyday
It makes my life
More pleasant as time
Passes me by
Now that I have found
You as my one true love
I wish to never leave your side!

Though sometimes I make you mad
I want you to know, I don't mean to...
But I believe my love is strong
And it will make you see past my faults!

Even if you're a mystery
It only attracts me more to you...
And I don't think that I can stay
Mad at you for anything!
My baby, I love you
My baby, I love everything about you...
My love is eternal
My love for you is neverending!


Details | Free verse | |

A Lamenting Mother:

 War has stolen my children,
War snatched my sweetest things, god’s given;
War robbed my children from being ‘hidden’
War demolished my tiniest hope,
War has made me a body without soul.
I’ve seen bullets killing my children,
I’ve heard babies cry,
It maims my soul the way babies die;
I have nowhere to fly.
War didn’t spare a single child,
Bombs fell on smiling babies,
Weapons snatched our babies from cradle,
Ignominious war sent them to grave.
I’ve seen atrocious appearance of war,
To raise my voice I dare,
I am solo face on crowd
You can’t kill us blasting bombs loud,
I will finally hold revenge’s sword,
I want to listen my baby’s shout.
Where are my bubbly chirpy children?
When shall this war end?
When will the toys get back their owner?
When shall they again play with dolls?
War has taken over one million children,
War has made moms bed-ridden,
War has turned off the way of life,
War owed everything to malice.
Why did war kill Zelena’s new born?
Why did it take away 5 yrs old Adnaan?
Regina’s little head struck by splinter
My heart is dead like cold winter.
I play with soft toys of my children,
I weep over their lost childhood
I kiss their tiny fur shoes,
I wash their colorful clothes 
To lessen my woes!!
I shake Sana’s round rattle,
I count days of battle
My lips get chapped,
My tears get dried,
But I never stop waiting,
For my little children to return,
War can’t rob our children,
It just robs the future citizens!! 



Details | Free verse | |

Twirling Revelations

Warmth, surrounded me…always
My lips, my eyes, closed… 
Mesmerized by the darkness that brought me consolation
I remember there were colors under those lids,
Green, spurts of purple…and sporadic yellows and reds
They danced and flashed
Whenever your voice rumbled and vibrated my abode
I remember the earthquakes of laughter 
That pushed me against the soft, supported side…
I merely bounced back to the middle again
My legs, bending, and then kicking off against it
My body twirling in the lavish liquid
Natural twists and turns that were later underappreciated
Twists and turns that were who I was
I didn’t realize they would always shape who I am

Deep voice—music—surrounded me always
My ears opened to the muffled marvel
Curious of the outside world that birthed the mysteries of who I am
I recall frustration, kicking against your soft insides….
Colors of black, gray tints, and calming browns…
That left me gurgling for more of those outside sounds
Because that first day I heard the lightning yells
The hot swells of your insides boiled
My body twirled and twirled as I heard you wail
Crying…sobbing…
My heart beat faster—wanting more to leave this vessel
Wanting to be a separate thing
Wanting all to hear me scream
To feel the cold, rubbery hands of a stranger
Lift me—and to your breast—gift me

It was always the warmth of the liquid
And the comfort of our bond
That always remained 

Bonds and beliefs never dry 
Blood is blood
Color is color
It is living to be separate that makes us gods


Details | Free verse | |

A WISH

"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
I wish I could find the reasons now, and not wait until I die.

Mostly, I WISH Mommy could fix this.

Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 
RIP March 25, 2013

----------
by;PD  :-(


Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Free verse | |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom


Details | Free verse | |

Once Upon A Time

This is a poem about the future I'd love to have with the boy of my dreams.
None of this has actually happened yet (besides us falling in love with eachother) but it's how I would like it to happen.

Once upon a time, I became the luckiest girl in the world. I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes, and he actually loved me back. He was like my prince, he treated me like his princess and would do anything for me. Today, we're united as King and Queen. It's been years, but walking down the aisle I'm still staring at the cutest, most perfect guy I've ever seen. When our lips finally meet after parting to say "I do", it tastes like Heaven.

Once upon a time, I married a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. And today, I saw those perfect blue eyes light up when he first held our little girl in his arms. She's got her Daddy's blue eyes and just a little bit of her Momma's brown hair. She's going to be spoiled and loved more than possible. She'll know we support her no matter what, and she can tell us everything. It will be perfect.

Once upon a time, one set of blue eyes became two, and we were made into a family. Now, that second pair of blue eyes is walking out the door to college, with a suitcase in one hand and a boy's hand in the other. He better love her and treat her just as well as her Daddy does.

Once upon a time, I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. His hair has dulled and grayed but his eyes are the same, and they've seen a lifetime's worth of happiness and love. My baby had babies with the boy she walked out the door with, and I can tell she loves them as much as we loved her. Now it's her time to live.


Details | Free verse | |

Confessions Of A Baby-Snatcher

This is my last confession; there will be no more.

I am impercipient and slow from last night's sleeping pill,
wincing away from the harshness of day.
Kitchen cold, the room tear-splintered,
sunlight striking a watery rainbow in my eyes,
the air smothering-stale from my hopeless coffee cup crying,
while life ticks on relentlessly outside the window.
Seconds turn into minutes turn into hours...

When you plashed your pearlescence over my pale skin
I never guessed the inner ugliness of those seascape pearls
encircling each ovary, stubbornly adhesive, leaching new life.
The scanner's screen sizzling static, darkening to nightshade depth,
its impersonal probe trailing damp viscosity over my belly;
shockingly sticky as the first time you came over me
but lacking the warmth.
You left me to weep among white hospital sheets:
coffin-cold, my hands folded on emptiness,
a paint palette of blood inks seeping from me...

I find myself miraculously in the shopping mall;
my feet have no memory of the pavement that brought me here.
Fruit machines flicker and wince like migraine.
I circle the shop floor, keeping a safe distance.
Beneath the strip light's dizzying glare,
tenderly fingering bootees soft as puppies, mittens like kittens,
the meek sweet sleep smell pulling me in.
My purchases earn me a benevolent smile
from pretty Pollyanna at the cash till.

The tapestries of faces at school gate gatherings -
faces daffodil-bright, sunstruck and open with joy,
the happy heaving hordes.
I am not dangerous, I am not predatory.
I only yearn to merge with the scenery of domesticity,
immersing myself in routine and normality.

Noticing individuality,
the way it blossoms in every pram;
hazed by the human differences.
Vertiginous spinning of kaleidoscope and rainbow;
the park a synaesthetic playground:
blood bursts of poppy, fire flames of freesia.
My audible emptiness clattering, a hollow pod rattling
among bud bursts of green, fruiting trees, flowers heavy with pollen.
The scenery of pregnancy swelling around me.
Encircled by circularity: round bellies, round faces,
roundabouts spinning, globular beach balls and balloons,
blossom spheres shaken from trees shivering to the ground.

Awake again last night in smothering, starless dark,
that tiny bloodied form beating like a trapped butterfly inside my head,
face pressed into a tear-damp pillow,
recalling the bathroom's midnight chill
as I knelt in raw ruby carnage on the floor.

This is my last confession; there will be no more.


Details | Free verse | |

COMBUSTION

It's a slow soft introduction,
To intense sultry seduction,
Entering worlds
Of heart pumping productions.
That have on more then one occasion,
Lead to total physical destruction.

And still we go there,
Cause we've moved beyond the point,
Where either of us care.

It's all about taking our time,
And getting things just right.
So we can enjoy the rapturous flavors,
Of reaching our climactic heights.

Mmmm baby kiss me one more time,
Mmmmm baby kiss me three more times,
Just one more time!
Baby kiss me again.
Let's see how many laws of gravity,
Our love making can bend.

Cause I swear!,
We are flying.
Flying to places,
Not even the sun and moon could go.
Transcending the heavens,
To only a place,
You and I could know.

Some would call it a miracle,
I just call it us,
Doing what comes naturally,
Enjoying moments of passion,
Till we both combust.


Details | Free verse | |

A Strong Man Like A Baby in Her Arms

He is a strong man: unbendable, unbreakable…steel
He is a brave man
He fights his battles
He claims his victories
Vicious and fierce when the need arises
Protective and overly zealous
A fighter
A gladiator who can wound
To protect what is his
A strong man by day
Everyday

But then at night, oh sweet blessed night
A strong man like a baby in her arms
He is covered in her scented softness
She lets him suckle at her breast
Feeding him her soul
Nourishing him
Whispering in his ear
As she runs her hand through his hair
Gently binding his wounds from battle
Caressing his taught muscles with fragrant oil
Soothing him
Crooning to him
Letting the last sound in his ears
To be her melodious lullaby of love
Her mighty warrior...her baby

He drifts off into sleep
Covered in her blanket of charms
Safe from all harm
A strong man like a baby in her arms

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Not for Line Contest
“A strong man like a baby in her arms”
A line penned by Richard Lamoureux in the poem: A Warrior Princess


Details | Free verse | |

A Lollipop in Page

The chirp of cloudy morning peal its wondrous beauty 
As it was a perfect moment to sip the taste of an old times
Pampered and drawn by those vintage voices
Shrunk in this sweet anomaly,  the frames of a time roamer

Word by word, time after time
An anecdote is herding, I'm dancing in a rime
Reread all my writes, feel the flakes of each verses
My masterpieces in time, the journal of life's flavours

Now I'm landing on a sketch of laughters
Where I feel the rainbow of bliss
A small creature is trying to stay
In a warm belly it grows in its way

Waiting is the first list to do
Hoping for the best is the lovely second line
I have another story to make
And this time I offer you the lollipop in page


Details | Free verse | |

A stifled cry

"It was a mistake", she said. 
A tiny life swiped in seconds as 
gods creation is rendered a 
mere cluster of cells. 
Returned back to heaven 
hoping the return policy 
wouldn't deny. 
It was a mistake; a stifled cry

A lifetime of progress, 
innovation, and memories down 
the drain.
The notorious "what if" 
squashed with plan b; no hopes 
of a future. 
A stifled cry 

She could have cured cancer or 
delivered world peace. 
She could've fed the hungry 
and housed the poor. 
She could've been a Honors 
Harvard medical school 
graduate and your pride and 
joy.
None are the magical christmas 
mornings, first days of school, 
or birthdays. 
Terminated are the memorable 
first steps and momentous  
coos calling for "mamma". 
No more possibilities. Now a 
stifled cry. 

"It was a mistake", she said. 
A moment of carelessness and 
selfishness translates into a life 
lost. 
Permanent. 
Sent back into the arms of god. 
An easy way out. A stifled cry.


Details | Free verse | |

On motherhood

I built a house seldom heard and seldom seen
Out of branches of wicker, long and tough.
Flexible and strong, my back bends forward towards the future
Tying knots, holding fast together the seams.

Sometimes after a rainstorm, my windows are too dirty 
to see the bowed peach tree laden and full, touching the ground.
I see the garish new gate, water reflecting off the new paint
and open my lips in an O to question without sound.

Who stands in the space between the two doors?
The garden between the house and the gate is in bloom, full and lush
I give birth to my two girls, in the toil of the soil and sun.
Closing in on thirty, fast approaching aged youthful blush.

I stood outside the window looking in, my reflection 
apparent and transparent: a multiplicity of three.
In sacred space, they grow and thrive, aside the outside.
Their curls golden and bright, reflecting off the door at night.


Details | Free verse | |

A Life :He Wept

He held the child for the first time
Such a fragile gift , he felt unworthy
As he watched her drift off to dream her first dream, 
he wondered  about the life awaiting her.
And he wept

She ran into his arms , tears flowed like rain
He could feel the pain she bore
He bandaged her knee and brushed her tears.
and held her until she felt safe again.
And he wept

Her first broken heart tore her in two
She cried for days on end. 
He wanted to hurt the unworthy man who did this
 to his baby girl, but he just held her close and caught her tears, 
And he wept.

The policeman at the door said nothing could be done, 
could he come identify the remains
His heart fell out that this his darkest day
too see his baby girl this way
And he wept

The crowd of friends and family all came to say farewell
, memories were shared of lives she touched 
and how she left so young. 
He stayed behind at the gravesite 
and said " I love you," one last time.
And he wept.

He sat alone and pulled out the videos
Her first steps, her first bike ride, first swim lesson
Her first corsage, Her prom dress
And the last gift she gave him
The wrinkled old sweater he will never throw away
And he wept


Details | Free verse | |

Baby Pink

So pretty - softly pink
To touch would be wrong
And stir the sleeping portrait
Teared my eyes close
To wish every moment so innocent


Written 1964


Details | Free verse | |

The Baby Blue Bonnet

The smile on one's face makes them feel glad again
My sister always had a smile to share
Once came time for her birthday,
A handsome boy came to call
And along with him,
A baby blue bonnet that pleased us all.

The smile on her face showed us she was glad
She leaned in a gave a sweet little kiss
Then the Civil War started and he had to go
She would be crying for him.

The bleak war raged on
Many were dead
She was pining for him.

The sheets of casualties came and they left
Many were torn to pieces
My sister dear cried,
"He has died and left me!"
She hugged the dear baby blue bonnet.

The time was bleak when she claimed the body
Sister dear had to wear black
When came the funeral,
She brought with her
The beloved baby blue bonnet

She refused to wear the hideous black hat
"Instead the bonnet!" she cried
For she would remember
The sunny day when,
He gave her the baby blue bonnet.


Details | Free verse | |

Confessions Of A Baby-Snatcher - uncut

This is my last confession; there will be no more.

I am impercipient and slow from last night's sleeping pill,
wincing away from the harshness of day.
Kitchen cold, the room tear-splintered,
sunlight striking a watery rainbow in my eyes,
the air smothering-stale from my hopeless coffee cup crying,
while life outside the window ticks on relentlessly.
Seconds turn into minutes turn into hours...

When you plashed your pearlescence over my pale skin
I never guessed the inner ugliness of those seascape pearls
encircling each ovary, stubbornly adhesive, leaching new life.
The scanner's screen sizzling static, darkening to nightshade depth,
its impersonal probe trailing damp viscosity over my belly;
shockingly sticky as the first time you came over me
but lacking the warmth.
Puppetted by pity you brought me pink carnations,
crushed their bright baby-frail faces into a tacky hospital vase.

I am weighted with a multitude of baby-frail faces.

Indifference cold-eyed me at the hospital: histrionic, hysterical,
a blubbing huddle of neuroses - "Doctor will I conceive again?" -
a collocation of surgical steel and wonder drugs.
Drugs to inflate the ovaries with a Botox bloat.
Drugs to wipe clean the scribbled slate of the mind.
You left me to weep amongst white hospital sheets,
coffin-cold, my hands folded on emptiness,
a paint palette of blood inks seeping from me.

Brushed by the soft wing of silence, what was being concealed?
The products of conception, screened from view?
The unseen dead, faceless and nameless,
trundling on trolleys through sterile corridors
to the eager heat blast of the incinerator - their crematorium.

They said I could try again
but barrenness occupies my bed;
it is a womb-burrower, fattening stealthily on menstrual blood.
The claw of infertility is clamped on my shoulder:
torturous flesh-hooks digging at my skin.
I ache all day from blanched almond ovaries;
fragile finger-fronds stilled to nothingness...

I find myself miraculously in the shopping mall;
my feet have no memory of the pavement that brought me here.
Fruit machines flicker and wince like migraine.
I circle the shop floor, keeping a safe distance.
I am not dangerous. I am not predatory.
I only seek to protect the meek;
to shield them from the vodka bottle,
the beatings, the needle in the arm.
Beneath the strip light's dizzying glare,
tenderly fingering bootees soft as puppies, mittens like kittens,
the meek sweet sleep smell pulling me in.
My purchases earn me a benevolent smile
from pretty Pollyanna at the cash till.

The tapestries of faces at school gate gatherings -
faces daffodil-bright, sunstruck and open with joy;
the happy heaving hordes.
I am not dangerous. I am not predatory.
I only yearn to merge with the scenery of domesticity,
immersing myself in routine and normality.

Noticing individuality,
the way it blossoms in every pram,
hazed by the human differences.
Vertiginous spinning of kaleidoscope and rainbow;
the park a synaesthetic playground:
blood bursts of poppy, fire flames of freesia.
My audible emptiness clattering; a hollow pod rattling
amongst bud bursts of green, fruiting trees, flowers heavy with pollen.
A sickly size eight drifting diaphanously,
the scenery of pregnancy swelling around me.
Encircled by circularity: round bellies, round faces,
roundabouts spinning, globular beach balls and balloons,
blossom spheres shaken from trees shivering to the ground.

Awake again last night in smothering, starless dark,
that tiny bloodied form beating like a trapped butterfly inside my head;
face pressed into a tear-damp pillow,
recalling the bathroom's midnight chill
as I knelt in raw ruby carnage on the floor.

This is my last confession; there will be no more.


Details | Free verse | |

Abort

30 minutes that’s all you got Just 30 minute to live and to die You have no experience with anything Except breathing and seeing What would you save? What could you save? Your mind is undeveloped Your senses just begin to tingle You can’t communicate except to cry You have seen maybe 10 faces Were do you take these when you die Did Jesus stop by or did he miss you I certainly hope not Because then you become inanimate Did you really live at all. How do we measure time when it comes to a life? When did it start and how did it end. Somehow abort sounds harsh and life seems cruel. But we the living are prejudice because we did not have to make that choice Little children in heaven are the same ones you’ll find in hell.