In midst of forest stands an ancient tree
decorated by nature with white cotton snow puffs,
icicles glisten and gleam sparkling in the sunlight.
Around its base are gathered all the forest's creatures
with pregnant pause they wait as the star shines out
a beacon to all calling out, hush now do you hear?
The sleigh bells ringing out as down swoops Santa
wait, he is not alone with him the blessed babe
in distance approach the three wise men bears gifts.
All the creatures now on bended knees him they salute
the ancient tree smiles knowingly and the heavens
celebrate with comet tails and shooting stars the precious babe.
contest Hush of Christmas Past
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".
Copyright © Meghan Palmer
In times past they
In centuries ago,
subjected them to
Turned them to
Deprived of the
Their windows cut
with a knife;
At ten sold out to
To satisfy the lust
of the gods of
They were lesser
Punched by the
Limited to the
Seen by the gods
as minute chickens;
Bought with some
Bought as a baby-
given out for a
price of sacrifice;
To continue the
cycle of the
High life snatched;
They drink the
liquid cancer of
Their pride is
shaved from their
And sleep for
centuries with the
And their purse
coveted by force;
In the name of
In the name of the
A drastic ruin in
Yet these same
hands to the
No longer limited
to the kitchen;
Neither are they
Queen Idia fought
Queen Amina, a
Queen Nzinga, one
in a million;
Queen Neferiti, a
knowing no end;
Dora Akunyili, a
Mother Theresa, a
Oprah Winfrey, a
Mary Slessor, a
Mrs Success, a
Bless you Dorothy
They are not
deformed men but
They are not
They are not baby-
They are life-giving
Copyright © S. A. David
The were the three Magi with mantels and beards, traveling
on strong camels as far as Bethlehem and having
seen a wondrous star, they began their long journey
by bringing precious gifts, but they warned Joseph and Mary
of Herod's malicious intent...so they fled to Egypt
on a donkey that never complain of a sore hip!
They believed in the Savior as Herod himself full of pride,
and being very wise, they never returned
to tell him what kind of child they had found!
They brought their gifts and knelt at a child
whose fate as foretold was to die for us all,
and he gladly accepted them hearing His Father's call!
Not having heard from the Wise Men who had lied to Him,
Herod sent his soldiers to kill all children under three: screams terrorized Bethlehem;
no, they weren't moved by their mother's painful cry
and shedding their innocent blood they revenged that lie!
O mothers of Bethlehem, Jesus knew that they were slaughtered because of Him!
O mothers of Bethlehem, you wept and moaned as they bled as a sacrificial lamb!
They believed in the Savior from what they had read,
and wanted to see for themselves the glorious event that Daniel spoken of:
the brightest star shining over Bethlehem as angels sang,
announcing Christ's birth in a small town groping on a hill of citrus and clove!
Written on December 16, 2012
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
hush my baby listen very close,to
everything you've ever heard.
so you can remember,
every sound and word.
being strong against your deepest fear,
that one day you may not hear.
though thiers no real gaurentee,
thats sounds will take priority
you'll remember each sound
and hear by what your eyes are able to see.
i know it won't be the same,
as when you could hear,
but you have to be strong
against your deepest fear.
so hush my little one,
listen close to all you've ever heard.
so you'll remember every sound and word.
just remember we will always be here,
when you need a hug,
to make the anger disapear.
caused by the stillness ,
that haunts your ears.
Copyright © dennis camp
THE BABY LARK!!!!!!
Oh my god I'm about
to be born
Brought into this world
and it isn't the norm?
Thanks to this man -
and woman too,
They got together and
now they're through?
They call themselves
adults, that's a laugh -
For they say silly things -
they do sound naff!
But their drunken antics
have now got me born,
Oh, my goodness - is
this the norm?
Out my head comes -
and oh, what a sight,
Can I go back in - and
I did not ask to come
into this life,
Now I'll have to face
the trouble and strife?
Can these adults not
ask us babies?
Before their actions
give us babies - the
All that sucking I will
have to do -
Followed by hours on
that darn potty - having
Having my back tapped -
and slapped by my mother,
Oh now for my nappy - her
nose she will cover?!
Why do they do it - I ask
Next time, just ask me - you
silly old cow?!
Copyright © Darryl Ashton
When mother nature,
Run my baby run,
When her pregnance
swells a little,
Oh run, my baby run.
Her claws close life's
chord, of umbilical,
Her voice R&Bs and POPs
notes, so unearthical,
Oh Rihanna, my meek
kind of love,
I now sing mama, ram-
Note when life seems not
Simply run my baby run,
Run towards a place to
A sweet sanctuary in my
Please feel comfortable
And if ever predators
persue your precious life,
Oh again my heart sings
Run, my baby, run.
Copyright © Godwins Piyo
I am like a snowflake.
There's no one just like me.
I came into your life as sparkling as can be.
I shimmer and I shine,
reflecting all your care.
A smile upon my face,
I am a child so rare.
There's no one just like me.
I am full of all things new.
There will never be another
who loves you like I do.
My gift to you this season,
unique upon the earth,
my smile...and love so special.
A treasure of great worth.
Copyright © Deborah Sutherland
Precious Little Baby,
Not Yet Born.
Passes Before He's
A Chance To See
The Many Tears
Yet She Has
Come To Terms
With The Loss Of
I'm Sure That Our
Has Taken This
For He Has Got
For Him To Not Be
I Hope That Baby
Knows He Will Be
He'll Look Down From
And See The Tears
His Family's Shed.
This Baby Boy, You
See, Will Never Have
The Many Firsts That
With Each Year Of
No First Baby Tears.
No First Baby Years.
No First Baby Steps.
No First Baby Words.
Goodbye My Precious
I Will Not Forget,
The Anticipation That
While Waiting For Your
You're In A Better Place
And You'll See What
The Beauty Which
And The Overwhelming
The Good Lord Who
Will Hold You In His Arms.
He'll Embrace You And
And Make Sure You're
Copyright © Karen Harris
The nation is thrown into grief.
Our national flag is flying at half mast.
Everyone is wearing a sack cloth.
The dangling axe fell on us.
And the mighty has fallen.
Our hearts are filled with dread,
And our eyes as heavy as lead.
Nigeria, Africa’s number one soccer nation,
Has been given a run for their money by the Ghanaians.
Culminating our early exit from the African nations cup.
The green and white jersey that we adore,
Have been dragged in the mud.
These are not the Eagles we have been celebrating.
Or are these Eagles suffering from bird flu,
That they cannot glide.
Their spirit was willing but their flesh were weak.
When we were young, we were strong,
Now we’ve grown but we are weak.
The reputation that took us years to build,
Have been destroyed over night.
Because we went to fetch water with a basket.
The baby has been thrown away with the baby water.
The Midas touch we used to have have been used on us,
Because we could not strike while the iron was hot.
The hunter has been hunted.
And we have fallen from frying pan to fire.
Football has kept us together as a nation for many years.
The Ghanaians has put a knife on what kept us together.
And we have fallen apart.
Once beaten, twice shy.
We hide our faces in shame.
No one is to be blamed.
What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.
Every dog has its own day and it was not our day.
A soldier lives to fight another day.
And never says never because quitters are losers.
The big question is,
Shall our bones rise again?
Or have we withered like the cursed fig tree.
Only the bowel of time will Tell.
Copyright © chukwuma obiora
Within the wolves’ den, the women menstruate together as one. Bleeding and screaming. Hatred from nothing. The succubus has dreams too. Consuming all, hunger never ceases. The tentacles from inside their wombs reach out grabbing at your pocket book. You are now a part of the hive little drones, work till you die. Don't speak, for you can never out scream the mother beast. That all knowing oracle of man's despair. The wolves den breeds filth, Filth breeds filth. Your skulls’ added onto the collection above the fire place mantle.
Copyright © Pauly Plaster J.R.
I do not know?
As approaching his fifty-fifth birthday this July thirteenth
We sit down for some extended sharing of thoughts and life
Borne within a place called Angels Camp his Father an inventor
Slash author actually and mother became one's own creation ? Time
Apart from beginning or matter their world, without end:
Copyright © Jeremy Street
Everyday I awake to the softness of the sun rays, shining brightly through my window
panes, I wonder to myself as I wipe the sleep away, from my eyes, before I get on my
knees to pray. I bow my head and close my eyes, to speak the words that comes from my
hearts, forming into sentences that goes up toward the skies,
Lord hear me now for I am about to cry,
I am missing my baby girl,Lord I am so tired,
I am missing my baby girl, Lord help me I am feeling a little wired,
I am missing my baby girl, Lord my soul feels like it's on fire.
I feel her soul passing through these rooms, giving life to every flower as I watch them
bloom, I smell her scent past through these walls, like a fire leaving behind it's
fumes,I see her smiling as if she were in front of me, listening to me, clapping for me,
as I sing the blues.
I am missing my baby girl Lord, and I don't know what to do,
I am missing my baby girl, Lord I am so confused,
Heavenly father help me, clear my mind so I can just get through,
these terrible times as I lie hear listening to this priest read from the obituary at my
ten year old's funeral.
Lord I am missing my baby girl, oh Lord I need you
so please, please, hear my prays to help me make it through.
By N. McCoy
(To Maria, In Loving Memory of Markita Weaver)
RIP Baby Girl We Miss You
Copyright © Nahisha McCoy