These Baby Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Baby. These are the best examples of Baby Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
and she said
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
but today I live in my daughter's happiness
All my goals I left behind to watch her reach her own
All my friends I do not see,to stay with her at home
Money might get tight,but what is money
compared to pure joy of a child
What is money compared to her almond eyes
Success lies dormant on shelves for years to come
But what is success compared to first giggles
to first steps, first mouthfuls and her little grabs
Compared to gurgles and babbles
to first time she calls me mama
and hold on to my hands
What is beauty in the world compared to a pearl
This innocent child,a coloured coral petite pretty girl
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
But today I live in my daughter's happiness
I had my days of wine and chocolate eclaires
roses on doorstep,unsigned love letters
with spiced cologne and enticing words
Today I live in my daughter's shadow
To watch her live her own dream
I watch her bloom in autumn gardens
from princess of hearts become queen
Tomorrow I will not be here
She might not get to see the white of my hair
the wrinkle in my smile
But,today she knows I love her
long more after petals wither
long more after a mother's hug fades
long after I shine from the sky.
Dedicated to my beloved Christina with love
Happy first birthday wrapped with barney hugs
and Winnie the pooh kisses :-$:-|B-)
Birth was suppose to come easier than this
I pant quickly as I was taught, but it isn't helping,
nor is squinting my eyes, helping to make the pain go away
But, then when pain evaporates like the tears in the corners of my eyes,
without ever getting a chance to slide slowly down my cheeks,
it fools me in thinking it is almost over now, and I should be happy
But all I can think about is my mother
and how different it was for her,
especially while her young husband was so far away
My back aches, and then once again,
I look for the owner of the mysterious voice, that is my own
I groan, and the doctor finally makes the desperate decision
I am given a block for the pain, an incision is made
and although I feel numb, and foggy, my mind in a haze
I can feel hands grope, ... a tug, a void, and then...the small noise... a cry...
And the next several hours are a blur
until everything is clear and I'm back in my room
on the sterilized sheets, too stiff, and too sleek,
too fragrant of bleach, to think about sleeping
This miracle I bore, soft as silk, with tiny closed fists, rose-petal nails
fills me with joy, with relief, with a deep pang of grief
for another time, another place, a place long ago...
I bathe in the scent of my brand new beginning ......
But my thoughts stream behind me,...... to a hope that had ended
My mother in bed, after losing her first....
So young, without child,........ bleeding red
from the war that she fought, while my Dad fought his own
I cry tears all alone.... for the grief that she owned
I so cherish the breath.....of this babe on my breast
The circle of life, starts with birth .....sometimes, death
Battered and bruised mommy cries as she tries to cover her black eyes.
But mommy doesn't see daddy as her demise.
One January 25 mommy and daddy awaited as baby arrived.
Smiles of comfort and tears of joy came as so did the baby boy.
Mommy and daddy weren't ready to take care of the child for daddy was still a child.
At heart mommy took all those foul mouth liquor jeers from daddy's mouth but baby didn't
know what that was about.
Mommy stays with daddy for the child, not realizing that it is doing more harm than
anything...comes from daddy's mouth and baby takes it in not realizing.
Flashing lights and sirens ring incredulously one slumber-some December night as baby was
tucked in tight...while mommy and daddy was going on like it was Saturday fight night.
Baby cries but whose there to hear for mommy and daddy curse and de fouls the baby's ear.
Baby's heart is broken and shattered as mommy is shaken and battered.
Sweet kisses to mend her wounds internal and external but are they sincere from daddy's
They will never part even though in mommy's heart she wishes daddy would leave forever.
One grief-some January 25 mommy rested never to return for her and daddy went on a
"Where is mommy", said baby but daddy couldn't talk.
What could he say "I beat mommy till I killed her leaving her internally bruised and brain
He couldn't say that any way for he was talking to Tiny in cell block five that day.
And baby has no other choice than to realize that his family was nothing more than a mere
Battered and bruised mommy cries for help as she fights for her life.
Because daddy has beat her till her eyes turned dark as night.
It's ironic because baby has become a fighter in Saturday fight night.
Marching as one, they rejoice His Birth,
children of Faith, know His worth.
Gathered in worship, separated by miles,
all know the meaning of His given Child.
Wise Men came far, to look upon His face,
the child of Mary, asleep on the hay.
Shepards in the fields, were told to rejoice,
voices from Heaven, told of this boy.
A star led the way, across many a mile,
followed by many, to see the Savior Child.
One cannot forget, how Christmas began,
a baby was born, and Jesus, He was named.
Once upon a time, I was an only child,
for eight lovely years, it was all about me,
then it happened, the most terrible thing ever,
my Mom gave birth to a bouncing baby boy.
She soon came home from the hospital,
hugging her bundle of joy close to her heart,
I peered into the bundle, honestly what was the,
big deal, he was wrinkled up like an old prune.
As the days past his cheeks grew chubby,
he had soft, wispy hair on his head and his body
filled out all cute, just like the Gerber baby, at least
that is what everyone would say when viewing him.
Gosh, why did he have to be so cuddly,
always cooing and laughing with those bright
eyes of his, blowing bubbles and taking everyones
attention, and why, oh why did I love him so much.
January 19, 2013
For the Gerber Baby Contest
After breakfast I called my little brother June-bug into our bedroom. June-bug got his
nickname when he turned three, when he tried to say Julian properly it came “”June”
and it stuck. I adored my little brother we spent endless hours playing together keeping each other
entertained. Our family consisted of Mom, June-bug and I. My Father had left us long ago,
leaving me as a role model for my little brother.
Grabbing his large bottle of baby powder I puffed it into the air like a volcano,
June-bug giggled as it settled like fine snow on our heads. His eyes grew bright as I puffed
the bottle again and watched it settle on his upturned face.
He laughed some more so I shook the bottle upwards more vigorously.
I spun around letting the powder settle everywhere in the room.
By now June-bug was hysterical with laughter.
His eyes were the only visible part of his covered face and hair.
I launched a spray at Missy, our tortoiseshell cat. She had made herself comfortable at the
edge of my bed. At first she remained still as the powder covered her multi coloured fur.
Then she decided she had had enough and bolted for the door. June-bug turned to watch
her disappear in a flurry of dust. Her small paw prints dotted the once clean carpet.
With the bottle now half full I lifted June-bug onto my bed and let him have the bottle.
He puffed the bottle into his own face causing me to laugh loudly.
He jumped up and down spinning the bottle around, spreading fine white powder all over
the room. We laughed and giggled as our room became our winter wonderland.
Mom came to see what all the noise was about, and we grew silent when we saw the look
on her face. She just sighed and shook her head, closing the door behind her, without a
She re-appeared some time later to give us a bath. We got to camp out in the lounge
room. We were so worn out that we slept quiet soundly.
In the morning, upon our return we noticed the bedroom had been swept clean.
Not a smidge of powder anywhere. It was as if our magical day had never happened.
Even Missy was back to normal.
“Come on June-bug let’s build a fort!” I said taking my little brothers hand and heading for
the lounge room. Leaving him alone for a minute I grabbed one of the big sheets out of the
closet and all the kitchen chairs. When mum finally appeared she smiled at us.
The scolding we had anticipated never came in fact mom never said a word about it and
only smiled as breakfast was served.
Collab. with Mystic Rose =)
While flying from Uruguay to America,
I experienced some fearful problems,
Some were real and some nightmares.
I was tossing my handbag left and right
I heard a sermon my mother used to sing
I was quite engrossed for a few minutes
Forgetting all the problems I was worried about
Hey, my co-traveler said, “your tape is running”
I remembered recording my mother’s voice
I think my mother came as protecting force
Giving an edge over my imaginative problems.
A mother is next to godliness, God personified.
An event of March, 2010 confirms my belief.
An Australian mum brings her premature baby son
Back to life by loving cuddles when chances none
The doctors battled for twenty minutes gave up
Of saving her lifeless baby boy born at 27 weeks.
Doctors gave the child to the mother to say goodbye
The grieving mother cuddled him tightly two hours
Bringing back her son to life, weighing 2 lbs.
Twenty minutes of science two hours of love
I bet it is nothing else but divine intervention
Second part of the poem relates to a miracle happened in Australia. Anyone interested to read more, here is the link
Sixth place winner in
Contest: Divine Intervention in honor of Catie Lindsey
Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks.
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.
She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “Slut,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him.
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears
and the fake diamonds studding them.
The new girl beside him
She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose
behind the formica countertop...
Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…
Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.
The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition.
The bloom is off the Rose now,
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch,
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….
*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh].
The rest is all true.
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
When they told me you were there, immediately I started to care.
A bond between the two, which was a bond for I and you.
You were my something to hold, my something new to behold.
Immediately, I wanted to shape you into a woman or a man who could stand up and stand for whatever he or she felt she deserved, but mainly a chance, in life.
When they told me you were there instantly I started to care.
I was awaiting the embrace of my little one and for you to embrace this new life.
But when they told me that you would not make it, right then I knew my heart couldn’t take it.
My joy suddenly vanished away and that thought of waiting to deliver your warm embrace.
My heart began to break and wonder if this world was just a big fake, to take something so precious, sweet, unique, and by me.
When they told me I began to cry, my soul began to slowly die.
I cried for you.
I cried for me, because we would never get the chance to meet each other you see.
However, if God will have it so, one day I will get to know who you are and what you might have been, the only remedy and medicine to put the lost and the great cost of losing you behind me.
To my unborn love, mommy loves you.