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Free Verse Child Poems | Free Verse Poems About Child

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Fifty-Three Shades Of Grey

in the uncoloured tint of another everyday amongst the spit polished waxed apples tightly packed in burlap bags they walked like minded in their own burly wrap oblivious to the irony to their similarity of the markets round red fruit unaware of the tragedy the horror of events yet to come it will rain metal shrapnel as human minds grasp with the purpose of their existence as in their ignorance they understand their worth as human bombs with a belief the heavens will open the gates with a fanfare and a promised blessing for their divine act of unquestioned belief the clay shaped bricks the black iron metal stairs the drum sound of engines then the lull not after but before before the pulse of the storm the rain of death yet this moment captured this photograph with man and child in hand smells sweet you wonder bemused why? the world travels aimlessly singularly no one nothing in the universe suggests exposes even a hint even a glimpse not a clue that would lead reveal an answer. life in its contradiction like the proverbial apple offers both the miracle the curse.
09/23/2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Inner Child

I don't want to be your sister I don't want to be your mother I don't want to be your wife nor your mistress or a lover I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Sucking on your needless thoughts Playing hopscotch in your mind Building castles in your hand take your footseps above the sand I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Your burnt sugar,Crystallize Pour it across your sterile smile till it sparkles in your eyes Make you play games grownups wish but never do 'Hide and seek,Catch-you're it Pillow-fights, and Mr. Who' I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Make you soar where the winds blow Reach the kite within your soul I would camp inside your heart Let our rhytmic beats impart I would breathe inside your life Bring the sun,and end your strife I want to be the one I want to be the inner child which kiss your lips with bliss and in your joys,reside

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

You will always be that little girl to me collaboration with Tim Smith

You Will Always Be That Little Girl To Me - collaboration with Silent One

I can still remember the day you were born, 
now you think you are all grown, but you'll always be that little girl to me. 
I can still remember those innocent little eyes 
and the first time you smiled, 
all those late nights spent by your side 
those little secrets, in me you did confide. 
I can still remember your first day of school 
that feeling, my little girl was growing up way too soon 
but to you, it was everything, you were so cool. 
I can still remember wanting to cry, because you'll always be that little girl to me. 
I can still remember pushing you on the swings, higher and higher, 
until you told me you can do it by yourself, you're a big girl now. 
I remember that first crush you had on a boy
when I asked why, you said "he reminded me of you."
My little girl, you can't imagine how much I love you
I should have realized it back then,
realized what a fine young lady you had become, 
I must admit a little part of me never wanted you to grow,
a little part wanted to hold you close, never to let you go.
I know you'll hurt me with goodbye, but you'll always be that little girl to me.

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Tissue Box

like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come 

dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings

don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat

I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure

                but, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it

protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine, 
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control

like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us,  and then they all go home...

do we cry........?  Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now


                for, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it
      __________________________________________





4/12/13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

O' Middle Child

O' middle child, dear son of mine, you have always let the others shine
All through the years, you have stood behind
---I want to say, I've noticed you  

Your sister's charms, of course, we knew...
And your brother's skills were multitude
But, my quiet child, though your words were few
---I want to say I've noticed you

While people cheered, and guitars were played,
 as your siblings sang upon the stage
You cheered them on with no restraint
---but, I want to say I've noticed you

Such wit and charm, a heart of gold, 
More generous soul, I've never known
A shoulder you will always lend
---a brother, friend until the end

I love you all, .....of course I do
I have watched you grow, each one of you
My quiet child, you are still the same
---you'll step aside from all acclaim

As parents now, all three of you
I am proud beyond the words I hold

My middle child, I hope you know, 
while you've always been a one to sow
a quiet gift to all you've known

---I want to say I've noticed you........


                                                            




______________________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

A Mother's Envy and Pride

Lapis lazuli mines with wide blue eyes
bringing to mind precious stones and
caramel scones; innocent and wise -
Wondering, yet without surprise.

Staring down the universe, a challenge
in your look though you are young;
The earth made only nine revolutions 
since you came out to see the sun.

Unguarded and arched, your brows 
betray high wire tension; enough 
to light up a hundred moons and warm
plump cheeks to cherry bubble gum.

Be not impatient to grow; you smell
of open grasshopper meadows
and firefly lighted lakeshore walks.
You’re a mother’s envy and pride.

Red lips! Your passion for life exists.
Scarlet, lipstick would be a surfeit -
Today as then till many summer’s been,
your spirit will always be free as the mist.



After:  Portrait of Carol Nye  Rhoades (Robinson) (1915)


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting No. 2
Kim Patrice Nunez
08 January 2016

Poem of the Week:  January 10-16, 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Guess Who

~It's a Beautiful Day~

Under every star, 
A smile waltz-like no other
Once a simple cherry blossom girl, 
enjoying puppets and lullabies.
Sitting in front of the screen
Anxiously waiting for him to come in
through the front door, whistling a song, 
trading a suit jacket, for a zippered sweater;
made with love. ---My day just got better---

   ***It's a beautiful day***
In a charming little town square 
A servant, serving a friendly atmosphere
Welcome to the land of make-believe, 
where all my friends are real.
Here comes the speedy delivery 
Mr. McFeely and his letters.
Prancing puppet skin in love with
Beautiful Lady Aberlin.
Henrietta, a mighty and feisty pussycat
My favorite strings are the king and queen
Before the show ends, Trolley's a friend
tooting around from make-believe to reality.
   ***It's was a beautiful day***
Oh the innocence of my childhood, 
       My neighborhood is gone

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

A Small Stain Of Blood

an early morning rise,
up the stairs
walk into the bathroom 
in the sink
a small stain of blood.

less than a measure of yesterday 
pulling a baby out of the womb into my arms.
on the sheets
a small stain of blood.

midwives  wrap
my first born
snug and warm.

when her mother
finally gets her initial fill
she hands me this precious
new life.

i hold her knowing
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,

sweet scented perfection!,
lulls me into a peaceful bliss.

as she grows,
i spend my best times with her 
and later her sister too.

my daughters own me 

lock,

stock

and

barrel.

Ali?

 i still see your
baby green eyes
reaching out to me.

i still smell your
childhood scent.

i can still taste
your hopes and dreams.

i can still touch
your youth as if it were now,
hear your tiny voice

 "daddy i love you but you're my best friend too".

there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,

you're now twenty two.
in the sink?
a small stain of blood.

in your bedroom 
cocaine,

syringes,

...everywhere.

i clean 
carefully picking them up.

i know you know you're playing
russian roulette with your life.

the drug convinced you 
your life isn't worth living.
that's what drugs do.

they're that snake in the garden of eden
and you know eve ate that apple
and you know she sacrificed everything
for a fruit that would never taste that good again.

evil always presents itself as the only choice
while good seems too tough an alternative
but the truth is, the harder you have to work for it 
the better it feels and it holds its feel with nothing to chase.

you can't hear me
the monster deeply 
imbedded in you.

but Ali i love you
and Ali my heart weeps
and on my chest sits
a small stain of blood!



June 3 2015
Armand



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.

Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Lesson on Love to my Future Daugter

It will hurt like a tattoo guns sting
as the ink infiltrates your skin.
Your first love will be like a tattoo on your heart,
buried deep,
always remembering the blessings and pain he gave you.

Be with a person who fills you with fluttering hummingbirds
even after the first and second and tenth kiss
who drinks the nectar of your demons and sucks them lifeless.

There will be men who you think will carry you forever
but after so long of holding
your feet above the water
they will throw you down. 
They will not reach out a hand to pick you back up.
They will turn cheek,
kissless and forgotton.
You will stand with dirt palms
and fall back into his inferno.

There will be loves like this,
who convince you to prick yourself with safety pins,
the ones who carry guns on their backs
but never shoot to protect,
only to hurt.
The ones who drink all the water,
leave you parched in the desert of his mistakes
telling you that they are your own.
The ones who shoot arrows in your lungs
and you lye bleeding 
believing that the color of your blood is true love for him.
The hour hand will spin around the clock
too many times before you leave him.
It will hurt. 
You thought it was true,
but after the death of it
you will realize you deserve someone so much sweeter
than a bitter apple. 

Love the one who doesn’t cheat you blind,
but instead comes to you with truths in his wretched palms
and waits for you to
forgive,
but never gives up and never stops wishing that the past could rewind
that he could change the things wrong that he did to you.

Love the one who feeds your heart warm apple pie,
who cries in front of your children,
who drives them to school and hugs them when they get home.
Be with someone who doesn’t ask for you to change
but instead loves your mistakes
cradles them within his fabric lungs
breathes them in with a grin.

Love is an interesting thing.
You will be thrown out of a moving car to the side of the road.
Some will come running back to you.
Don’t jump back in the front seat,
just run
and run 
and run 
and run
until you find someone who buckles the seat belt for you.
Drives five under the speed limit,
takes things slowly and waits for you to be ready to accelerate.

Daughter,
I am here for you.
Remember me, the one who loved you first,
the one who will never stop loving you.
Come to me after he breaks up with you.
You can cry on my shoulder,
and ill wipe your tears with my sleeve.

Daughter,
Find a love who loves you the way 
that your father and I love you,
the way that your grandmother loves you.
Find a love who already considers you family.
Who meets you
and looks into your ocean eyes
and drowns peacefully into your heart.

Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Vision Of A Child

 
      Under the Christmas tree sits a nativity scene in the old town square. I sit on a rustic wood bench and reminisce on the stories I’ve been told about Jesus being born on Christmas Day. When all of a sudden I hear movement in the bushes; I turn my head and look over my shoulder. With a sudden fright, a tall pure white stallion with feathered wings, steps forward and says, “My name is Peg, climb on my back and I’ll take you to where it all began.” I arose to my feet and got on Peg’s back, held on tightly to his mane. He galloped off at full speed facing into the wind and took off soaring into the night full of stars, being guided by a large, bright, glowing star. 

      Peg turned his head and said, “That is the Christmas Star ahead.” 

      As I looked down below, I saw coming from the east, three men. Could they be the three Wise Men!    

      As we reach the star we slow down to a town. Peg said, “This is Bethlehem down below.” 

      Peg starts descending close to a stable and lands. I anxiously dismount and we both walk towards the stable. My spirit was overpowered with awe, there in the small dim lite stable, we found a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, with his mother Mary kneeling beside Him. 

      The shepherds that were watching their flocks near the stable also came all elated, one of them said, “An angel appeared and told us a Savior, the Messiah, had been born and that we would find Jesus laying in a manger. So, we immediately came to see if truly Jesus our Savior was borned. ”
   
      Heaven was rejoicing at the birth of a Savior for all people.

      The three Wise Men arrived and said, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.” They gazed at the young Child and immediately fell down and worshiped Him, they presented their gifts to him of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

      We stayed for a while in admiration of our Lord Jesus. 

     After a time Peg said, “ I need to get you back before you are missed.”  

      Together we flew into the endless night back home to the Christmas tree where I had been before. 

By Eve Roper 11/18/2014 © 2014 

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Bridge

I walk towards you,
as you stand waiting at the center of the bridge.

Beneath my feet, aged timbers span the churning river below.
With each step I see you more clearly.
My eyes search out the younger you,
that wild child with chestnut hair.
I can still remember your pigtails and ear to ear grin.
Back then, laugher was such an important part of us.
Somehow,
thankfully,
from the start, 
we just seemed to get each other.

As I approach,
I see both of us in your eyes.
The twinkles hidden within the wrinkles,
laugh lines, the evidence of our pleasure.
As you open your arms we embrace.
For a moment, time relinquishes its dominion.
Two friends once again, occupy a sacred moment,
grieving and celebrating the passage of everything.
We wonder, what if anything can be reclaimed?
Together, wishing yesterday forward!

The bridge groans under our childlike expectations.

In a split second everything changes!
We place young hands on the bridges revived splendor.
Amazed, we look over its railing.
There below, the river reverses upon itself,
flowing backwards until it stops.
The glass like surface reflects back images of our younger selves.
I look back into your eyes with wonder, 
how is this possible?
Once again we are both twelve,
standing on this baby blue bridge.
You too look shocked,
What is going through your mind?

Age has loosed its shackles!
The years reeling back like hands on a sprung clock.
I think my eyes deceive me, but it is you.
A cowlick sticking straight up and you have that crooked smile.
Your blue eyes playfully daring me,
to follow you into a new adventure.
This adventure occupies the reaches of our imaginations!
Your hand rests beside mine,
it feels familiar and safe.
How I have missed you my friend,
missed your voice, your exuberance for life.

As twilight lingers
and the stillness of time settles about us,
I see us as we were.
Long ago we said our goodbyes on this very bridge.
We promised one day we would return to this very spot.
A pinky swear magical promise!
Then we waded into our unknown years.
The river of time split us in two directions.
Many escapades, broken hearts,
triumphs and horrors.
Somehow, we grasped at the memories of a forever friendship.
A phone call, a transformative whisper,
beckoning us to return,
to a bridge,
to a time,
to a feeling.

Twelve years old,
hands clasped and swinging.
We skip to the beat of our own accordians. .
Together we dare life to give its all.
We are ready once again,
for skinned knees,
adventure,
perhaps some heartache,
but mostly belly laughter and ear to ear grins!

Written in collaboration with Monterey Sirak.
It is a pleasure to work with such a talented poet.




Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

My First Child

A precious gift! Joy unimagined fills my heart She smiles! My heart races, leaping! And like a butterfly in spring, gliding, It dips among new blossoms Like a sweet melody playing softly in the cool of the evening, I soar! My baby, my first, like an angel sleeps Soft, warm and brown I stare in awe of this most perfect gift from God! Tiny almond-shaped eyes, sparkle- searching Nothing as beautiful have I ever seen! She cries and her teardrops like crystal daggers Pierce, my joyful heart! And like a wounded sparrow it plummets Free-falling, and I am left puzzled...confused Nervous, I gently hold her close to my breast I am sure she can feel my heart beating.. Suddenly our faces brush... she turns- Our eyes lock, and smiles ripple! My first born--all is well in my world.
© 1992 ~*~

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

A Child's Prayer

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Hush Hush Sleep Baby Sleep

 
Tonight like all the other nights I lay down next to her cot bed ,run my fingers through her hair ' Hush Hush ,sleep baby sleep ' , I Softly sing to her. I sing to her a lullaby She listened to from birth I hum to her the melody that knows her water world Then I proudly watch her , touch the inside of her palm I whisper sweet and gentle ,trying to keep her calm. I feel her tiny fingers curl around my own till She slowly drifts to sleep in dreams so far from home. In dreams with lands of faries , of stars twinkling in streams In castles made of pure bliss where our grips find release. Tonight, is not like other nights,. 2 am , total darkness but cannot , just cannot close my eyes. I look at her , and gently lift her , I place her in my arms I Hold her close, I hold her tight , with all my need and all my might. I rock her to the beat , to the beating of my heart I kiss her , I kiss her deep , as if we're to depart. I put her back , I lay her down , to snuggle with her teddy Warm tears , first tears , start falling , suddenly. Tonight is not like other nights . 3 am , total darkness but cannot , just cannot close my eyes I write all my emotion ,as if its the last time I could write Tonight is not like other nights . 4 am , the moon reflects its light but cannot , just cannot close my eyes Warm smiles , new smiles , replace this pain, this fear lurking inside Because I know , if shapeless clouds cover my sight the last words that I penned ,were for my precious child.

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

On Four Walls

Their young strong-willed son, ever resourceful, has been given "time out" for bad behavior. There is no noise coming from the room. After two hours, the mother grows concerned. Why has there been none of the usual clamor by him to be released from his small prison? As she walks into her child's room, she is startled by the claws of lions which seem to spring from the right side of the room. She spins around with a gasp. On four walls are different animals crouched or ready to pounce. A black panther, which peers at her with huge yellow eyes, takes center stage above the window where it has been drawn in bold crayon strokes as if it were creeping in from the outside to join the landscape of the magnificent lush green jungle applied to the once-white surface of the walls surrounding her. Owls and tropical birds perch on the branches of the jungle trees, and a fat green snake slithers by the door. Her son, finishing up the wall nearest his bed, looks up at her from the piles of crayons strewn across the floor and impishly smiles. Did I mention, he is also very artistic? Written Feb. 22, 2016 For the contest of A.A.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Writing The Perfect Poem

Why do we do what we do?
Writing words day after day
Unsure if anyone will read them
If they will get the message we tried to say
A million words with many meanings
Thrown together in our language
How will we know the right ones?
They ones which say what we want to say
Just one word, one syllable, one letter
Out of the place where it should be
The meaning could be lost
We struggle through endless hours
Wondering and writing
Cutting and pasting words and lines
Then in a miraculous moment
It happens
The words are right
The syllables are right
Each and every letter is right
After all the pain and stress
Our child is born
We post in on-line
Publish it in a book
We send our child out into the world
And no one reads it

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

The Embrace of this Child

There is no hint, that this child of three
Could ever comprehend..
With his unknowing, smiling face,
With that cowlick in his hair, freckles here and there 
Who takes the air from my lungs with a glance
Skin glistening, pink and rosy from the sun,
As he comes bounding through the door,
Mud on his small shoes and face
Without an inkling or a trace..
Of any clue of the pace 
Of my heart beat,... how it swells
The way that my arms would wrap around 
His small body so tightly, that he would gasp.
This well of love that I feel....

    But of course, I don't squeeze so tightly.
      I must hold my love for him
        With more restraint,
          Keep my arms encircled in a more gentle embrace,
             For he wouldn't understand how much love
                His sweet presence stirs up the air I breathe
                   This child, this precious son of my daughter
                      Will never know the joy
                          He has brought into my life






............................................................................................................

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Child, stand up

Child , stand up
Clothes deemed unfashionable
by followers with no individuality
Kinky locks not straight enough
according to those with no self realization
The stiffness in your tongue bearing testament
to your mother tongue, to which they laugh at, why?

You're Mahogany, sanded and buffed
well crafted and glossed to a high sheen

Vulnerable yet resilience is you
Intelligent yet humility is you
Poor yet generosity is you

Yes, you are all that and more
because you have captured and nurtured
a knowledge and pride in self

Your smile glows from within
as it brightens your surrounds
Don't be shackled with self doubt
for your strength feeds multitudes.
Your gentleness comforting many.

As you wear your head gear to dance,
dance till you turn up the dust
each muscle sinew in perfect coordination,
sweat weaving in between the seamless strings
of those beads crafted and carried with pride.

Roar with song!
Share your history through lore
Ululate till the sound carries to the heavens,
breaking the skies open with torrents of nourishing rains falling,
falling.
This ,Africa, is what you are...

Copyright © Abongile Ncwana | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

For Momma

  From a babe to a man, I needed your hand. Now I understand, it was part of God's 
ultimate plan. I was to be raised by another woman.  Don't get me wrong, Grandmomma was something! She gave me all the love a child could need. She was always there for me. Truly a blessing! No Mother, you don't owe me a thing. Not even an explanation. I can't sing, so I wrote this dedication, tTo show my appreciation.

 Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance; rRegardless of what you've done. As God is my witness, I'm still your son.

Yes I hold resentments, and that is hard to ignore. My hurt I can't hide. When 
you kicked me out. And out of your three children, why was I the one you let go? 
From afar you watched me grow. Did you worry about my well being? On the surface, looks can be deceiving. No, I was not well. I was actually a child living in hell. Easy for you to say "It's over, it's the past". I was forced to grow up too fast!

Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance. Regardless of what you've done. As God is my witness. I'm still your son.

I remember spending the night with you and that was such a treat, just to escape the hurt from being beat. Looking back it was a real tragedy. I felt you didn't love me. You were my Mother but you gave me up so easily. Grandmomma became my only family. The only person I could rely on. But now she's gone. Even now as a grown man, I feel so alone. If I could sing, this would be my song--

Momma, Momma you're my queen. For you I would do anything. I just want you to be proud of me. Whatever I've done, please accept my apology. I'm not perfect, never claimed to be. 

But I am strong. Especially dealing with this pain for so long. I just hope we can finally be a family when I come home.

Dedicated to my Momma "Phyllis Ann Lopez"


Note: Thank you Poetry Soup for allowing me to share another piece of my life.   From both 
pieces "For Grandmomma" to this piece "For Momma" you can picture my relationships with 
both women. My mother was far from perfect...But no one is perfect and I love her all the 
same!  Jimmy

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Curious George and Winnie The Pooh

I remember Christopher Robin
When helping Pooh find honey
Was my biggest problem
I remember the blustery days
We trusted each other in every way

I remember When we helped Eeyore
Find his way home from the Sea shore
Everything was good
In the Hundred Acre Woods

I remember Curious George
I had to chase him a hundred miles
As soon as my mother kissed me good night
We went around the world
But we made it home
Two minutes before sunlight
And everything was alright

And Sammy the Seal would let me get on his back
And ride for a million miles
We exchanged halcyon smiles

And I remember the monster
Who brought fear to the hundred acre woods
Scarier than the Heffalump
Scarier than the thing with the Black eyes
He was pure evil in disguise
He told lies

Filled with evil and guile
Christopher Robin called him a Pedofofile
It tried to seduce me
Ten minutes after my mother introduced me

I remember that ice cold June
When Mama said “We’re getting married soon"
And Disney left the room
I remember when
Larry Flint
And Hugh Hefner moved in
And H.A. Ray moved away
And Dr. Seuss and Syd Hoff
Took the Summer off

I remember seeing the door knob turn
The Pedofofile kneeled on one knee
Said he had a story he wanted to read to me
And he brought pornos to my bed
Mother Goose turned her head
Christopher Robin Fled
Curious George hid under the bed
And the hundred acre woods were
filled with dread

I remember us all gathering around
The meeting in Hundred acre woods
Christopher Robin said if I
Opened up the pornofo graphic
magazine
I could be banned for good

I asked him what’s a Pornofographic magazine
He didn't know exactly what to say
But saidt they were ten times worse
Than any blustery day

But i was curious like Curious George
I was curious like Curious George
I opened the Pornofographic magazine

I remember the woman
I saw more of her insides than a doctor
I remember the dog on top of her
But I can’t tell you what they did
And i cried out for Winnie the Pooh
I just wanted to be a kid

I remember the last time
I saw Christopher Robin
Tears rolled down his chin
he asked me why I had to
Let the pedofofile in
And it was a blustery day times ten

And I waved goodbye to Piglet
And Roo to Tigger
And the heffalump too
But Mostly I remember standing closely
To Danny the Dinosaur
He told me he would always love me
But I couldn’t slide down his back anymore

I remember 1974

2011 Dr. Seuss Poet M.e. Michael Ellis..

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Abused

It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

Walking hand in hand with mama

My long brown french pleats  bouncing in the wind 

My new red plastic boots ready to be shown.


Reaching high upon my tiptoes ...

I swung  the large french brass knob  back and forth

until  my short chubby sweet  nonna opened the door.

As soon as I saw her, my hazel eyes changed

 into different shades of caramel swirl.

I  am her first born niece,  and her little girl.


It could have been a beautiful  memory to write down

Running up those marbled  tiles , gazing through the hallway 

 at the two dark giant iron knights . How I wish I could have been

like them , just as brave  and wise.


In the  busy kitchen I hugged nonna over and over again

I loved how her  apple  and cinnamon  pies wafted ,filling Saturdays 'air.

I loved the teaspoon sounds , as the sugar in the coffee cup was stirred

It was a symphony , blissful  music to my ear.



Next to mama ,in the dining room , on a padded  orange rexine chair I sat

Playing snakes and ladders whilst I heard them chat.


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

If I had not  followed uncle Bob  that afternoon

Along the long corridor we walked , to his room 

At the far end, Inside, I was promised  a delightful  surprise.  


The red velvet  curtains He shut down.  All  turned dark !

 The squeaky  old  door  slammed . I could  listen

 to the fast rapid beating of his vacant heart.



I could feel him getting close , too close .




I could smell his stinking breath and feel his  hand

It slipped hungrily , unbuttoning my innocence and  collar shirt.


He pushed me down on my knees, head and face both pressed.

My lollipop lips  too close to sour scents ,  I would never  forget. 


Everynight  cold in my bed , I scream -  Regret...

I do not want to remember, yet how can I forget


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

But all I have is a blank page. 

In that house of nonna where  once I laughed and played 

All there is  are secrets , insecurity, my shadow  and its shame.





Fiction poem inspired by Becca's contest against Child Abuse...

Not for the contest,  but thanks for the inspiration. 

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Pink Pink Pink


Pink- Pink- Pink- Every peak has its own attractions, Like the mountains, The mounts of a woman, Have always remained, Her pride possessions. 01 It has the charms, More intoxicating than wine, As it reveals the beauty, Of a woman's alluring binds. 02 These mounts gives, The wings of imagination and colors, In the mind of an artist, And they arise the passion, In lovers mind.03 Their rise and fall, Has shaken great empires, Under their cool and peaceful shade, The dreams of a child form shapes. 04 Its serenity has given birth, To most pious and holy figures on Earth, And their warmth have shaped the dreams, Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05 They feed life giving milk, To every new born light, Every time they laugh and cry, These lofty mounts, Help in forming shapes, When the child begins its story. 06 But these pride possessions, Of a woman, These lofty inspirations, Of Poets, Writers and Artists, These magical charms Which often become more attractive, Than the face of a woman, Are facing, A wide spread pollution,* Which is the unwanted gift of Modern living and They are also the gifts, Of worst living habits, Adopted by thousands, and millions of woman, As they fall prey, Before the charms, And shows of modern generation. 07 Many such wonderful women, Who are in the grip of this pollution,* Have brought this curse on them, Mostly because, Of their own follies and errors. 08 Many such suffering women, Can really get rid of, From the curse of this pollution,* If only they can show, The courage to adopt, The natural way, Of living and breathing, Possible under the boon like shade, Of real Yoga. 09 The reasons, Of the distortions,* Of their pink pink ribbons, Are mainly the results, Of their own creations, And these results, Are not something, For which, One should blame, The destiny or God every time. 10 Some of the serious reasons are, Not caring rightly, For one’s own pride possessions, And the lack of, Physical manipulations. Not keeping, A cool and calm mind, And eating, From morning till night, All the junk foods and wine. 11 And working, Beyond all time limits, While stressing, your peaceful mind. 12 Running and more running To catch others, So that you may not leg behind. 13 And madly crying, For more and more wealth, Even if you have sufficient, For your life time. 14 Are the reasons, Which invite the pollution,* To sow its rotten seeds, To spoil, The enchanting valley, Which exists, Amid the mounts of, Pink pink flowers. 15 The pollution,* Can still be derived out, With the little practice of Yoga, But it remains untouched, And unsung about, By most of the modern women. 16 These otherwise elegant women, Regularly face the problems, Of distress, Lack of peace, And sound sleep. Which ultimately take away, Their happiness, And coolness of mind, Resulting in strengthening more, The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17 Still it is not too late, If they can only change, Their life styles, Their eating and drinking habits, And adopt from today, The way of natural living, By adopting, The boon like Yoga. 18 As the practice of Yoga, Not only add years to your life, But life to your years, as well. 19 Ravindra Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012 *Pollution- The other name of Cancer. Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may write to me on my yahoo mail id: kapoor_skk@yahoo.com I would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga. Ravindra
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745 IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Little Beast

Little Beast
you are a storm; 
you were made to be chaotic and awe-inspiring. To scream your emotions in wild wind, to rally against injustice in your path, turning away with scorn from those who bind their hearts with lies in a gentle wind. Who grind their teeth to hide the storm behind their eyes, 
But bear in mind, 
my little beast, 
that though they may leave you behind, you will never be confined or resigned to a fate that is defined, 
by how well you can contain the tempest of unrest inside your heart. And promise me this, 
little beast, 
that you will never smother your beautiful storm, and transform into a life form of quiet neutrality, to hide behind a mask of normality to smother the brutality of your fierce mentality, because you 
are a storm, little beast.
And you were made to be heard.

Copyright © Katie Ch | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Refugee child

You look at me with such venom and disgust Like I'm not human and have a contagious disease But can't you see, I'm just an innocent child For a moment put yourself in my shoes Think of me like I'm your child Why judge what you don't understand? How would you feel to see your mother raped? Your father burnt before your eyes? I used to dream, I used to fantasize, of a beautiful life beyond my childhood I still remember my home blown away, with these games of war that they play My playground destroyed with their bombs That had no concern for my ruined toys I'm just a child, how did I hurt you? I have no where to go, nobody to care Living in refugee camps was no luxury Don't you see the horror in my eyes? Can you not feel the pain as I tremble? Where has your humanity gone? Do you have a heart? What if this was your child? For days and days I walked through mud and rain To find a place that I could belong Now you shun me and forcibly turn me away Like I'm a dirty diseased animal that may plague you But I'm only human, I'm just a child I only ask to be loved and to play again I've lost so much, yet you won't help me to smile Where do you suggest I go? Or shall I just rot in hell? So humanity will you standby and watch? Or will you find love in your heart and try to understand?
I'm just an innocent, caught up in a war of greed, I'm just a child CONTEST For the contest, Any Sad Poem, sponsor, Broken Wings 10 September 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Child Again In Love

On a river bank and holding a flower,
Plucking the petals one by one,
There I am 
Standing amiss behind a tree, 
Staring at me as if I don’t see you
There you are.
I ask you a simple question 
Why is life so complicated?
 And you walked out slyly
Because you didn’t know I knew you were there 
And you answered
If it weren’t, there would be no love 
But I don’t have that anyway
I reply 
And in your head I know you’re thinking
Oh but you do,
You have it from me 
But I sat there so obliviously 
I didn’t ever tell you 
But I loved you too
That was the only secret
That I ever kept from you
And when we chased 
Each other in the creek 
You didn’t ever tell 
That you were falling in love with me 
And we were just children
They would always say
But children are the wisest
In a special kind of way 
They see people for who they are 
And they don’t know corruption
As personally as they will grow up to 
But for now they look into each other’s souls
And choose their friends for life 
You see it all started as children 
When we all had our sight
But now we are blind
To the untruthful ones 
We could sense it 
Like we could sense that winter was here 
And that a big snow was coming 
But now we are so desperate
For love because it’s not so easy anymore
And we forget the simplicity of the emotion 
If you love someone, let the love grow 
Let it blossom like it knows no limits
And indulge in life on that feeling 
That you were a child again in love 

Copyright © MaryEllen Gozzo | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

A mother's treasures

A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother 
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her 
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job 
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

I Love You Dad

One of my earliest remembrances in this place; life
Was when I was about three or four years of age
The fear overcoming my heart thinking if ever
I were to be seperated from or lose, my father ?
Within my minds eye I see a small child in spirit
Walking hand and hand with their own beautiful 
Father amid heaven turning back to smile; John
There he goes, my dad and myself left sorting.... 
About this flesh; bittersweet, tides through time 
Which touch every life yet in faith I know that all 
Shall one day be well; as I wave and into the light
Their beauty's go rejoicing a soul; wiping love's tear.






...."John Harrison Sadberry ˜ March 26th, 1939 ˜ Beauty ˜ To, 
December 19th, 2012, &, 'Forevermore ˜ I Love You Dad!'".... *

Copyright © jl sadberry | Year Posted 2012