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Child Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Child

These Child Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Child. These are the best examples of Child Prose Poetry poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Prose Poetry |

My God on Earth: My Mother

A heart that cries more than me 
in my pain. 
Whose congenial and benign teachings 
make me sane. 
A warm touch that dispels from me 
the gales of worry. 
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm 
protected by her under furry. 
A helping hand that always hold me 
whenever I'm about to lose. 
& my first teacher who makes me to 
distinguish between donts' and dos'. 
A voice and nothing more, an Angel 
who is entirely mine just after my birth. 
And she is none other but 'My Mother', 
The God on Earth. 
  
Although to define her in words is 
beyond my skill. 
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in 
my life, none can fill. 
She is the one who needs not a single 
word of me to understand. 
In my devastation, she is always there 
to provide effusively her hand. 
In the weariness of my life, with her, 
I may lose to be in link. 
But she ever remembers me whenever I 
breathe or my eyes blink. 
I can say that in search of heaven, 
I needn't to go anywhere. 
I would like to put my head in my 
mother's lap, as its only there.. 


Details | Prose Poetry |

Armaggedon

Armaggedon is not a place where Divinity
lives war and plunder. Armaggedons' battlefield 
is within our heart and souls.
It is not a remote event in future history but an
actual occasion for the Self to connect more fully 
to the nature of God in he present. 

Armaggedon is not the end of the world or an
upcoming historic deadline for disaster. It is
in the war within the heart and soul of the individual. 
The Self is the creation of God. The serial disasters
that we accumulate in our lives are not about an
All Powerful God handing out retribution.
Revenge is not in the seed of divinty, who
contends that love as primary.It is our own battle
choices. 

Armaggedon is an opportunity to realize the
personality of God within our own lives.
Justice, wisdom, love, knowledge, thoughts,
feelings and behavior etc. are all aspects of
the personality of God who created us. It is
our responsibility to merge with Divinity more
and more to strengthen the relationship
between ourselves, God and all people. This means
battling away that which is adverse to our lives.

Being a child of God means you already have the
inherent qualities of God within you, we all do,
no matter what your religion. Like a mother
who gives birth to a child, the child has aspects
of the mother’s personality within her. Thus, as
God has given birth to all of us, we have attributes 
of Divinity within that we need to grow and 
strengthen. Armaggedon is not a place outside
of us, it is a symbol of our growing faith.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Sand Castles

Upon a beach I came to stand
And watched a child at play. 
He did while playing in the sand
A point of life convey. 

With scoops and buckets he did build 
A structure tall and grand. 
And to the child the beach did yield 
A castle made of sand. 

But as he left, I do recall, 
Away I did not turn. 
And with the coming night would fall
A lesson to be learned. 

The tide came in, with force did strike, 
The castle could not stand. 
And I was shown how life is like
A castle made of sand. 

And man is but a child at play, 
His works they will not last. 
For all he builds within days
Shall be by time surpassed. 

Each thing we do, Each thing we say, 
Each notion we conceive,
They all to soon shall pass away, 
Yes, this I do believe. 

We leave no mark, we leave no trace
That shall forever stand 
Be sure my friend time will erase
Our days however grand.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Sand Castles II

The castle stood with majesty.
The child stood justly proud.
Both night and sea stood patiently,
In hand the castle's shroud.

My thinking now became serene,
Of things small and sublime.
How I saw all played in that scene
Of man, his deeds and time. 

But here I raise a quandary.
I question thee a tad. 
Are we the castle stately?
Or, are we the lad?

Are we the child? Are we the sand?
We're either, can't you see?
Both built and build to pass away
With time our ebbing sea. 

The tide we face is Father Time.
Aren't we but molded clay?
Just like that castle so sublime
We are not here to stay. 

Yet like that child in spring of life,
His days are numbered still.
Just like the grains of sand it took
To stir this old man's quill.


Details | Prose Poetry |

A Child With Child Part 1

                          " A Child With Child"   (Part 1)

She made a mistake Her future was at stake Already two months with child She decided not to hide Had to tell somebody It just could not be anybody.

Her thoughts went to her mother afraid to tell her father or her brother
Knocking on her mothers door when opened knelt on the floor please mama forgive me don’t forsake me I am your child but with child.

Her mother’s reaction quickly took action slapped hard on her face screamed
 “What a disgrace” took her by her hand tossed her outside on the sand
She knew that was the end.

Quickly decided to defend Herself and her unborn she will fight and not be thrown and will make it on her own.

Her life started When she departed From her own home In search of another home. Although she was alone She kept dreaming of her unborn.

One day her newborn was born a boy opening her arms held him like a toy
As she  felt no more a child and promised to take care of her child.

Two years passed away they were so happy and gay He was the sunshine of her day even after a working day. When she was home He never left her sight.

Until late one night She woke up to a bang Thinking someone rang She ran to open the door But there he was her son Laying on the floor.

Grabbing him close to her heart Just ran outside Having no time to cry Or even try To see if he was alive But prayed he would survive.

She believed in fate at the hospital gate she gave her son away hoping in no delay anyone ! someone ! please oh God ! help me!

Waking up she heard a noise than a voice looking up a white shadow was wiping her tears Held her hand Needless to utter another word
She felt the sword go straight to her heart and just fell apart as she knew that was the end my only son is gone forever and ever..
Good bye.

Therese Bacha
12/12/12






Details | Prose Poetry |

A Child Got Married Part 2

                                   "A Child Got Married."  (Part 2 )


A child raped at fourteen A child with child at sixteen A child lost a child at eighteen Still a child married at eighteen.

She met a young man named Larry And finally accepted to marry him
She is in heaven dreaming of a life Just being a good wife At last no more alone
She’ll have her man a home of her own.

Revealing his love while giving her hope He convinced her the same day to elope Even with no horses or carriage and not Being a bride in white She still had the honeymoon and marriage.

Closing her eyes feeling everything will be bright When at the end of this day and during the night They will be husband and wife. Laying side by side on a silk bed to share their love As already she was a woman in love.


Their home was on top of a hill Everything so quiet and still
She woke up early at dawn Running outside to sit on the lawn
Feeling the cool breeze While watching the birds on the trees
Twittering to each other their love song believing this is 
where she’ll belong Forever and ever.


Two years passed so fast When pregnant she became at last
Her happiness was so everlasting when Nine months later she gave birth
To a most beautiful baby boy on earth She asked her husband
if she can name him “JOY”

Dozing off feeling so peaceful Knowing she’ll wake up with a smile on her face As her baby Joy was going to help her erase All the bad memories of her past.

Her coming days and months were so busy She realized that it hadn’t been easy with Larry Especially he didn’t look happy nor merry He started drinking day and night That’s when she felt something was not right.


One night she begged him Please Larry tell me ! talk to me! Larry I am your wife She was crying so strong he wiped away her tears But knew he couldn’t wipe away her fears.

He pulled her close to the fence Where it was dim with no lights
For her not to see his tears or fears Kissing her and holding her so tight
Bidding her a Farewell.

He ran racing inside Hurrying to end his life With the tie around his neck He pulled hard As he only knew In just a few days His sickness will attack All his body And take away all his power He decided to Die.


                                            Terry


Details | Prose Poetry |

Old Soul, Young Heart

With pigtails she looks like any other,
and though she may weigh no more than a feather,
she has the whole world snuggly fit
between two bedazzled ears.

She laughs like a jack-in-the-box,
but it's really no surprise.
It's the TV shows that get her rolling.
There's no Teletubbies from la-la land,
and no Dora exploring the boundaries of
pushing Espanol into all the tommies and susies.

She has a ball listening to Lucille's antics,
but it's Ricardo that sets her heart ablaze.
I flip through the channels to find something more current,
but then... wait.

Here comes the rain...

No, not pennies (like her favorite Sinatra song),
just big fat drops of salt water
to melt any heart of ice.
I gotta admit though the whole spectrum isn't needed
for she brings a splash of color
to the old fashioned black and white.

"We should've gave her a more classy name
like Dorothy or Agnis. Britney just doesn't fit her", said I.

"She's perfect the way she is", said the older of the two roses.

"Look dad! This is a brand new one!"

I couldn't tell her the show has been canceled for decades.
And you might you call me a bad father for leaving her in complete ignorance.



Then again you've never seen those puppy dog eyes.


Details | Prose Poetry |

THE NEW DAWN

   
I’ve seen the dawn above a mountain
Lights up like a child with blue eyes.
I’ve seen the dawn-
I’ve seen the dawn where life well’s up endlessly.

With the beauty of old age and gray headedness,
I can tell the tale of a sunrise and sunset

I am an old lady and wise with times
I’ve challenge many difficulties and come alive
Through the passage of times and seasons,
I can only laugh against the pain.

I know the languages of heartbreaks, panics, struggles and troubles.
I’ve tasted the lost of children, mansions, passions and visions.
I’ve seen great kingdoms rise and watch them helplessly run down through the valley of no return.

I am an old lady now; an old lady with worth of experience
I’ve seen the dawn above a mountain
Lights up like a child with blue eyes.
I’ve seen the dawn-
I’ve seen the dawn where live wells up endlessly.


Details | Prose Poetry |

An early song

I once joined the procession of colors and lost my heart
Till a wave colors distilled through night knocked me down dead.
Besides the mountain,  the midnight festival of colors is on.
Lying in my arms you imagine your blood is burning in my veins
 I am only listening to the chariot of the queen joining the revelry.

I knew you were being vain when you came to see me
I did know when your heart missed a beat. For the air was my friend.
And the tiny bird building its nest in the rafters of my roof
Did  not bring a straw as long as you talked. 

You never said bye.  For you wanted me to do that. But I had no time 
And kept riding on the wave. The storm is not away. What if I fall.
 Tomorrow I will be lying in these shores caressed to sleep by a smiling sun.

 I don’t have the time to forget you in the endless expanse of this blank night. 
Last night’s sun was but a spot hewn out of the tragedy of the heavens.
A tragedy that  survived the ages to live in my heart in fire and smoke.

You keep away while I create my pieces in these desert sands. When I proceed
 To give them the finishing touches, you shriek in despair. For you think
 I am going to spoil the lovely piece of some great master with my clumsy hands.
                                           -2-
Tomorrow is the illegal child of today abandoned in the dark.
I end up at night  and my child is born at night, having passed 
Through  the summer that seared my skin and heart.
The cup of sorrow is never full, so there is no overflowing.
Yesterday we witnessed the winter night breathing its last.
Winter was in lament for the little bird that went up but never returned.

I bear no gifts for you. I know not your names. I know not who you are
But I recognize you without mistake against this backdrop of misery.
I come here with my empty bag to gather the drops of your sobs
And consign them to the flame in my mind leaving your smiles behind.





For: Catie Lindsey's Free Verse contest



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