Violence Baby Poems | Violence Poems About Baby
These Violence Baby poems are examples of Violence poems about Baby. These are the best examples of Violence Baby poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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Elegy to Child Lost
Passion's love oft tempts despair
Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
Babe snug beneath a mother's breast
Senses at this time are keen
There's no secret kept between
Loving mother, wriggling babe--
Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
But entwined twin was also loved--
Some say Nature's method proves
That one twin may give all to mate---
But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.
Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
or sense those legs that wandered miles
And daring feet that danced in tunes while
Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.
When babe vanished--not a sound.
Mother 's grief was not allowed.
Tempted so to trail behind
Escaping shattered troubled mind.
Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
Never spoke of-- never mourned.
By her husband she was warned
Was best forget a child so early lost--
Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--
But the years have called babe near,
Mother's journal writ in tears:
'Please forgive my selfish heart.
Repressed from all --this tragic part
I felt your sacrificial act--
You left your cherished twin intact'.
There is no law of random acts
Doctors examine data facts
It may be --that in the womb
When both spring flowers cannot bloom
One bold twin refrains to eat
Compels the other to complete
Hardy growth that life requires---
Sparks survival's crucial hours.
Not an accident 'tis sure--
Boldest spirits blossom pure.
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
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
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
Unarmed I stood against the beast
Defending what was mine
The theft of my guileless innocence
His most cruel, remorseless crime
Fighting slings and arrows
Words that cut me to the quick
Lifting thin arms in resistance
To his heavy, brutish fists
Sorrow comes in darkness
Arrives without an invite
The moon stares dully at me
No magic will save me tonight
Measured unforgiving blows
He chose where each would land
Dark purple bruises gave away
Where my body had been slammed
With my knack for weak excuses
“I tripped and fell down again”
He sneered that they’re “just love taps”
While I played a game called ‘pretend’
Naked in my bed
Protecting a child yet unborn
Came another beating
From this cur who’d earned my scorn
What cannot be seen in shadows
Can suffocate one’s will
When I reclaimed my spirit
I crawled out of the mouth of hell
Ages have come to pass since then
The fiend at last routed from my life
I’m no longer frightened
Of just being someone’s wife
Copyright © Tess Norton | Year Posted 2014
Dying starving kids in the streets of Calcutta.
Lepers, faceless and worthless pieces of flesh,
kicked and tossed in the nearest cesspool.
Low caste Hindus hated and harried from the Ganges.
Women raped in the streets of South Africa.
Their bloody torn panties---flags of rapist victory.
Tribal warfare, shooting each other for no reason.
Mutilation and torture in their hot sweaty cells.
Faces slashed by muggers’ knives on London tube.
Reckless thugs on Brixton side killing to get some change.
Beggars punched black and blue, left to rot in East End's slums.
While politicians sing tunes of law and order at Westminster.
Old freezing tramp seeks shelter in warm sty.
Jailed for break and enter, slowly dying.
Who cares, the law must be seen to do justice,
Our judges say as they hold a minute of silence for dead soldiers!
Let's bash these Jews and brown-black bastards in their chants of racial hatred,
Echoing in European and American streets, kill em to preserve their purity.
Their whiteness and Aryan image mustn't be poisoned by these animals.
Then the killing and slicing begin in the dark corners of the metropolis.
Fighting in Israel, the Middle East and Afghanistan is man's thrill,
as a flood of blood soaks the war-torn lands and they smile
at wasted lives to hail a religion and a useless cause.
Wars created by man for fun and games but we're the pawns!
Oh God when will the angry ravage and savage evil of man stop?
When will our children be able to run in golden fruit scented fields?
Drink cow’s pure milk and crunch crusty bread reaped from the land of wheat.
When will human suffering end and life of love and peace with God prevail?
Copyright © Raj Napal | Year Posted 2016
The Sin of a Country
It’s hard to believe my dear Father
how far our country has finally descend,
that we have stooped to even kill babies
while in the womb and on their mothers yet they had to depend.
Tis the lowest of lows this sin – killing babies
when in secret the Father’s work is wrought,
bringing life to this once precious country through this one
but before he can, his little heart has been stopped.
Why God only knows what kind of child it was
that you had chose to abort,
he could have been a great preacher of God’s Word
or a psalmist like King David; he could have been one of that sort.
When even a helpless babe is in danger
and no one will lift up a hand,
then we know there is terrible trouble
even in this, our once Godly land.
America the great, are you ready
to pay this heavy price?
this time it could cost us all our freedoms
and could even cost us all of our lives.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
June 24, 1994
Copyright © Marilyn Jennings | Year Posted 2015
An omnipotent'd been ideated by militant clan,
Aeons tell how it put them through a social pace.
To set up abode or to relate races with astute plan,
God had its genesis;women-men needed it to seek solace.
As fact a woman conceives, is manifest
Man couldn't conceive of anything but God for law and lex.
Dyed-in-the-wool,they kept bending head for mending mind lest
They vex orders of war, worship and women for sex.
But missile killed gravid woman with faded hue,
Her baby survived in placenta of its mom of Gaza:
A whole race, policies, religion; yet nothing to rue,
As if all were busy computing to bring future bonanza.
No more sacred are our Temple and Church or Mosque and tomb.
Truth says:fetus Jesus'd been bestowed on Mary's womb!
Copyright © PRITHWISH MUKHERJEE | Year Posted 2014