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Free Verse Baby Poems | Free Verse Poems About Baby

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

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Details | Free verse |

I'm Vinyl Baby

i’m vinyl baby,
easy to scratch,
easy to gouge, 
prone to warping.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

dot dot dot
from the seventies!

you know there’s
my black side,
my dark side.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

you’re my diamond needle.
i'm your music,
you know me,
 you play me.

you’re my diamond needle.
gets under my skin
rides my 

even pass these years,
when my time comes,
pack me in my jacket
bury me in your closet.

you know i’m still
your song,
your tune,

dot dot dot

you make my life neat.

like a circle
i’m the black vinyl
on the roundabout

your still 
the only 
for me.

i’m a 45 rpm record, 
single and labelled,
still got track marks.

play me!

Maurice Yvonne

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

A Wish -re-post-

A WISH -- In Memory Of 

"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?

Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make 
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.

In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013  ---   RIP March 25, 2013

by;PD  :-(

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Celebrating A Birth

Isn't life a joy beyond imagining 
When a child is born to us?
Can there be any greater happening 
When families become a chorus?
Oh sweet melody of life's golden symphony 
Pregnant seasons birthing spring 
Nothing can compare to the cacophony 
Of a baby when first she sings.
Look: she smiles, she beams,
Her eyes seraphic twinkle, deep blue-green,
Enchanting, magically enticing, endearing, 
Urging her mother to a hug, a kiss
Soft as the early sun on her puffy cheeks.
Captivating, she melts the heart,
Then strikes, straight at the delicious milk 
Of her mother's full sweet breast.

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Through the Door

Can you see them run to me – arms wide and laughing,
calling me, Mama: keeper of the stars, moon and hearts?
Can you see them kiss away my pain, healing every hurt
that’s ever marked me broken, dead or dying?

Can you see them hurt me? When they curse me, flay me; 
ground me with their unformed anger and bravado-uncertainty
until they fly behind doors, crying over what they’ve said – 
wishing they could take it back? 

O’, does that pride HURT! 
It stabs the chest and holds…holds…holds.
Can you see them behind doors and feel their wishful hearts burn? 
Can you feel them loving me through it all?
Love is not something easily hidden. Love like that breaks down doors – 
                                    sees through them. 
Can you see my tears; feel the weight of them on your cheeks? 
They are yours. 
Where you are (past the furthest/closest door) can you see me in them? 
Can you see the love I kept hidden in my dark and painful dungeon? 
You never knew what he did to me – but deep down, I blamed you anyway. 
There was only you left, you see; always you.
Can you see, I'm just like you?

If you can see me, you know. 
And if you can hear me crying through this God Damned pen (all those notes – 
all those written sorry’s slipped beneath doors - you must have known that
even at 37, I’d write you my heart in a note!)

You, Gran/Mother, are my one and only regret. 
That for 7 years, I treated you like a burden, a bother, and a barrier. 
I treated you like you should have treated me – an unintentional intruder;
like something taken, not given. 
But worse than that, I treated you like an acquaintance. 
Knowing how badly that must have hurt you, makes me want to be kicked in the face 
until I am unrecognizable; to the rest of the world, and myself. 

But life’s not like that, is it? No. You knew that, too. 

My baby boy has your nose, ears, and eyes. 
Do you think that if I whisper in his ear tonight while he sleeps (between you and me – 
at the doorway), you could hear me?
Tonight, I will whisper love in his perfect ear (pressed up against heaven’s door) -
maybe you will hear me say,

“Indy…Gran, I’m so sorry. If you can hear me, please give me a sign so I will know 
you’ve heard me. I want to see you smile again – just one more time…please…
let me know that somewhere, behind the door, you forgive me…”

And in the darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight covering his small face
like an angel’s kiss, the baby boy in her likeness, smiled.

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


Children growing old and fading
innocence shattered with the curse of abandon
frozen between the first stage 
of a baby's breath and  navel,
desperate to live in  real homes
after years of return and exchange
thrown from garbage to luggage…
foster home mother,
    unit mother,
      nun mother,
        volunteer mother…
what’s a mother?

And I watch broken toddlers come and go
some small, a few tall, others weak, 
most climbing inside tears or curling inside fire
nonetheless,  they are all the same...
they just want to be loved as normal kids;
and I feel how they crave to belong 
in a nest of stars without love’s regret.

I cradle their dreams with healing balm
pouring grains of future's summer dreams,
as I watch them come and go:
these, my “children” fly with kindling hope
playing as if to forget the numbness of dragged pain
steady still in the passing of riddled uncertainty…
   "When will you come back?"
     "Am I pretty or not?"
       "Will my nightmares stop?"

And I watch broken toddlers come and go
changing, always changing my own truth…
Oh there’s so much more I need to accept,
for I can never have one of them as mine 
being single and mostly alone , 
like these children... wanting a family.

For the toddlers of an orphanage where
I volunteer as a counselor.

The Poet's Ache Contest / Sponsor: Greg Barden 
Re- submitted 8/1/2017

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

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 |

Maid of the Myst

Maid of the Myst

I lie in repose
Under the falls
In a tranquil pool
Of turquoise blue

He left me for another
This I could not suffer
My pain already drowning me
I fell from the falls

Spectacular was the news
Young girl with the blues
Dives to her cherished death
My lover left me for I was on meth

I was confused and skin so bruised
Misused and tears seeped from my veins
No one at all could know this enduring pain
So now under the falls I enjoy the rain

My soul lies deep
Under waters so very steep
I wait, and I wait
To be alive again

From the skies
Not another… but I see a phone that dives
Floating downwards upon my weary breast
A chance you see, finally I was blessed

I call from the depths below
Like a spirit I begin to glow
Daddy daddy is that you?
From below I call to say a proper adieu

Found inside her pocket

I miss you daddy
I love you so much
Forgive my wild youth
Remember me as I was in your arms
Long ago with my pony tails
Your little cuddly pumpkin
Love you daddy

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Bedlam baby

I remember you
cartoon smile and egg-shaped head.
Do you remember
how the rainbow formed on the water,
how the neon lights flickered,
or the scent of nectarines on your forehead?
They were happy to see for the first time
behind glass window,
between speaker box voices --
unopened package,
untouched collector’s item,
you shiny new contraption,
star of the play,
hero of the hour, 
flavor of the season.

Seed of your father,
soil of your mother.
Fruit of love,
fruit of conflict.
Decision’s aftermath,
delusion’s consequence,
Are you accident,

Bough in the river,
wrenched in the current.
Hand reaching for hand,
hand holding your own.
Bedlam baby with the guilty smile
do you remember
how you would not fracture the  mullioned frame,
how you could not shatter porcelain,
or how you hid in changing alleys?

I will save you
you will save me.
My hand in yours.
I am the boat
you are the journey.

Copyright © Ryan Caidic | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

Still Called Mother

My body is a graveyard.
I buried you inside this defective womb.
I am less than a woman.
My flesh a fertile tomb.
Tiny ghost.
I will never hold you.

My baby is crying.
My baby is crying and no one can hear their haunting wail but me.
Night after night.
Hush now.
Momma loves you.
Inviting this emotional decay,
I am damaged.

My heart is in the ground with you, dear one. 
This body betrayed me.
The space between these hips, 
Now an empty cradle.
That gentle heartbeat,

I am always with you.
My soul gently rocks you,
As you sleep.
When the fragile heart stops beating,
Are you still called mother?

Copyright © Nadia Steel | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


I fell in love with you the second you were born With light brown hair and sapphire blue eyes I thought you were perfect! Over time it became evident that there was a problem Test after test showed that you had profound autism You didn’t reach your milestones like other babies There was no babbling; no social smiles only a vacant look in those huge sapphire blue eyes You were locked in your own little world just content lying in your cot playing with your fingers As you grew older you found comfort sitting rocking on the floor You hated physical contact; if anyone tried to hug you you’d go rigid Arms remained straight by your side like a soldier on parade It’s been so difficult to come to terms with the fact You will never say “I love you momma” or let me into your heart Fictional write for Let me into your heart contest Sponsored by Julie Rodeheaver 08-20-17

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |



Miss American pie has a dream -
whipped cream of tijuana brass.

Groovy tunes quit on smoking grass.
Frisbee LP like steaming saucers crash.

The homecoming court is plastered.
What could possibly be the matter?

Moon rockets in flight, rock me all night baby.
There were stars in my eyes, as lala land denied.

In my crib the beatles rock me to sleep,
while Tate’s fetus stares at the Helter Skelter light.

Chosen song: American Pie

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |


"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little body warm, 
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....

I wish, 
I could look into your daring eyes, 
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson 
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts! 
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
How I wish you could be, 
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
I wish I could find the reasons now, and not wait until I die.

Mostly, I WISH Mommy could fix this.

Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 
RIP March 25, 2013

by;PD  :-(

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Confessions of a Baby Snatcher

This is my last confession; there will be no more.

I am impercipient and slow from last night's sleeping pill,
wincing away from the harshness of day.
Kitchen cold, the room tear-splintered,
sunlight striking a watery rainbow in my eyes;
air smothering-stale from my hopeless coffee-cup crying,
whilst life outside the window ticks on relentlessly.
Seconds turn into minutes turn into hours...

When you plashed your pearlescence over my pale skin
I never guessed the inner ugliness of those seascape pearls
encircling each ovary, stubbornly adhesive, leaching new life.
The scanner's screen sizzling static, darkening to nightshade depth,
its impersonal probe trailing damp viscosity over my belly;
shockingly sticky as the first time you came on me
but lacking the warmth.
Puppetted by pity, you brought me pink carnations,
crushed their bright, baby-frail faces into a tacky hospital vase.

I am weighted with a multitude of baby-frail faces.

Indifference cold-eyed me at the hospital: histrionic, hysterical,
a blubbing huddle of neuroses - "Doctor will I conceive again?" -
a collocation of surgical steel and wonder drugs.
Drugs to inflate the ovaries with a Botox bloat.
Drugs to wipe clean the scribbled slate of the mind.
You left me to weep amongst white hospital sheets,
coffin-cold, my hands folded on emptiness,
a paint palette of blood inks seeping from me.

Brushed by the soft wing of silence, what was being concealed?
The products of conception, screened from view?
The unseen dead, faceless and nameless,
trundling on trolleys through sterile corridors
to the eager heat blast of the incinerator - their crematorium.

They said I could try again
but barrenness occupies my bed;
it is a womb-burrower, fattening stealthily on menstrual blood.
The claw of infertility is clamped on my shoulder:
torturous flesh-hooks digging at my skin.
I ache all day from blanched almond ovaries;
fragile finger-fronds stilled to nothingness...

I find myself miraculously in the shopping mall;
my feet have no memory of the pavement that brought me here.
Fruit machines flicker and wince like migraine.
I circle the shop floor, keeping a safe distance.
I am not dangerous. I am not predatory.
I only seek to protect the meek;
to shield them from the vodka bottle,
the beatings, the needle in the arm.
Beneath the strip light's dizzying glare,
tenderly fingering bootees soft as puppies, mittens like kittens,
the meek sweet sleep smell pulling me in.
My purchases earn me a benevolent smile
from pretty Pollyanna at the cash till.

The tapestries of faces at school gate gatherings -
faces daffodil-bright, sunstruck and open with joy;
the happy heaving hordes.
I am not dangerous. I am not predatory.
I only yearn to merge with the scenery of domesticity,
immersing myself in routine and normality.

Noticing individuality,
the way it blossoms in every pram,
hazed by the human differences.
Vertiginous spinning of kaleidoscope and rainbow;
the park a synaesthetic playground:
blood bursts of poppy, fire flames of freesia.
My audible emptiness clattering; a hollow pod rattling
amongst bud bursts of green, fruiting trees, flowers heavy with pollen.
A sickly size six drifting diaphanously;
the scenery of pregnancy swelling around me.
Encircled by circularity: round bellies, round faces,
roundabouts spinning, globular beach balls and balloons,
blossom spheres shaken from trees shivering to the ground.

Awake again last night in smothering, starless dark,
that tiny bloodied form beating like a trapped butterfly inside my head;
face pressed into a tear-damp pillow,
recalling the bathroom's midnight chill
as I knelt in raw ruby carnage on the floor.

This is my last confession; there will be no more.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

A Mother's Ears

I sometimes feel a unique vibration within my own ears. My baby’s crying, calling from beneath his quilted, baby-blues. His sobs rustle the warm sheath of home. Before my mind reacts, my body is up, hastily tip-toeing into the nightlight’s calming glow of a cow jumping over the moon. Outside a soggy, spring night splatters under streetlights like urban art. A steady rhythm of flowing rain beats down on puddled pavements. My baby’s cries reverberate as they reach that instinctual part of me, somewhere deep within my diaphragm and through my heart. A mother’s astute ears know the subtle variations of her own children’s breath in sleep…I hurry to the shadows of my baby’s crib to find him curled up, eyes still closed; little whimpers and groans escape from his open lips…a bad dream, I realize. I gently rub his back, shushing away all that disturbs his peace, and I wonder about a child’s impressionable mind… what intrusions of an innocent day could bring a bellowed anguish to the sweet dreams of a carefree boy not yet two? I listen to him tumble in and out of his fear until his breath is a tranquil hum… only then, do I hear the music of an early morning’s falling rain.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Cry-Baby Cat

Cry Baby Cat, was a stray that turned up wailing outside our front door. We never turn down a stranger in town, especially when clouds have gathered to storm. Beginning to pour, I opened the door, and we welcomed him in, as the thunder began Well, he shivered, and wailed even more! His coat was all wet, like a little drowned rat so I dried him, the best that I can. We fed him a bit, and settled the cat in a box, filled with blankets, within. Found a new litter box, and tucked it away not far, where the kitty would stay. We turned off the lights, but the thunder and fright scared the cat, and he soon disappeared ! Right under our bed, .....so while poking my head 'neath the spread of the bed, I said "Here, kitty, kitty"... and my heart had such pity, for the poor little fit he was in. And that's how it began, scaredy cat had no friends Till we fell head over heels till the end! He was just a cry-baby....., and although we said "maybe" he picked us back then, as his kin
________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: Beloved Pets 6/18/15

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Ever So Sweet-

Her cotton candy cheeks,
glow like pink marshmallows.
And dark chocolate curls
adorn her pretty head.

She sports blueberry eyes
and red liquorice lips.
And a creamy face with 
a million dollar smile.

A confectionery
treat, she’s extraordinaire.
And gives sugared kisses
that tastes ever so sweet.

Written July 23, 2015

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Lexi's Preconceived Womb

Life giving womb, silent and sacred
Mystical, blood red, embryo connected
Cords from umbilicus, abstract limbo
Unborn life, undiscovered, now growing.

Within the confines of limited space
As yet unknown, haven from the world
Unborn life, feeding moment by moment
Pressing lines, altered shapes, now reliant.

Cover the little child, unborn, in love
Keep it protected, now undisturbed
Freedom in birth, to live and to breathe
Hope for the future, this new life, to live.

Written on 5/20/2015

Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Baby Unicorn

Welcome to the land of butterflys and buttercups
The place where baby unicorns run free
It does not rain here
Nothing but sunshine
sandy beaches
Race with the waves as they crash against the shore
Here the sand is white as snow
Yet it's so soft
So warm
The water azure blue
Dive into the ocean
Let it envelope your body
Wash away sadness
Cleanse you
Renew your soul
Joy can once again be a friend
Dream happy dreams
Fill your land with all that you love
You are woman
Stronger than even you know
The pen is mightier 
You are a poet a creator of worlds
You determine what you see
You choose your joy
Let imagination fuel reality
See the you that you are meant to be

Dedicated to Colleen Bono
Check out the Science of Happiness by Shawn Achor on UTube

Submitted to You Are Beautiful Contest. 

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Child Mother

Lying on my back,
the warm sun blanketing,
I watched the cloud stacks drift,
breezily blown across the bluest skies,
imagining, dreaming . . .

Dangling from my lips,
sweet honeysuckle straws dripped nectar candy,
delicious extract for flavoring dreams,
visions of the joys to come
when I was older grown,
reveries of life and love
and children of my own.

Beneath the apple tree,
in spring pink blossom carpeted,
I laid out the charming rooms
that framed a happy home.
The hollyhocks lent their blooms
for babies hankie-swaddled
and clothed in petal gowns of white and pink.
My flower-children, plump and fragrant skinned,
rocked in cradles strung between the branches,
were lulled to sleep with tender lullabies.

The happy days of childhood passed,
and I was suddenly grown
with tiny babies of my own,
sweeter far than any flower known.
The kisses that I gave to them
were answered, returned to me,
from lips like rose buds formed
perfumed with baby breaths, fragrant and warm.

The childhood dream that I held dear
I treasured year after year
until I found it realized,
reflected in my babies' eyes.

Copyright, August 16, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Once Upon A Time

This is a poem about the future I'd love to have with the boy of my dreams.
None of this has actually happened yet (besides us falling in love with eachother) but it's how I would like it to happen.

Once upon a time, I became the luckiest girl in the world. I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes, and he actually loved me back. He was like my prince, he treated me like his princess and would do anything for me. Today, we're united as King and Queen. It's been years, but walking down the aisle I'm still staring at the cutest, most perfect guy I've ever seen. When our lips finally meet after parting to say "I do", it tastes like Heaven.

Once upon a time, I married a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. And today, I saw those perfect blue eyes light up when he first held our little girl in his arms. She's got her Daddy's blue eyes and just a little bit of her Momma's brown hair. She's going to be spoiled and loved more than possible. She'll know we support her no matter what, and she can tell us everything. It will be perfect.

Once upon a time, one set of blue eyes became two, and we were made into a family. Now, that second pair of blue eyes is walking out the door to college, with a suitcase in one hand and a boy's hand in the other. He better love her and treat her just as well as her Daddy does.

Once upon a time, I fell in love with a gorgeous boy with blue eyes. His hair has dulled and grayed but his eyes are the same, and they've seen a lifetime's worth of happiness and love. My baby had babies with the boy she walked out the door with, and I can tell she loves them as much as we loved her. Now it's her time to live.

Copyright © Megan Devon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


You lied there that night, the pain you felt was so hard for me, but a brave face was all you made I was there, useless as always. Your hand in mine, I felt so helpless. I could feel your fear as the time wore on, the doctor not helping at all. Hours passed and the pain grew but I was with you, not knowing what to do. I could see you questioning yourself. As if you felt unworthy. I knew better, you were so strong, but I wasn't. Fifteen hours later I could take no more as the fear in you grew and the doctor reached for you. Can't you see somethings wrong! They made me leave and took you. I was so scared but you never knew. I sat waiting for an eternity, then out of the blue, I heard a voice speaking to me. The doctor came from the operating room. He had something in his hand as he walked slowly toward me with concern on his face I stood, numb, and looked in the dish he held. He said the cord was rapped around her shoulder and this, as he glanced at the dish, is what caused the pain, but you were OK. I felt weak as I listened to what he had to say. but, you were OK was all I heard. The nurse soon came, "It's a girl," she said as I looked through the plastic case. So, perfect and beautiful she lay there calm serene, perfect purple fingers and bright red hair. She was you and my eyes filled as I looked at her, at you, my beautiful Babe.

Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Off the stuccoed walls, the shells peel 
The wounded babes bleed
There is a story of harrowing kind
To every war
This one is no different to others
The babes die in Aleppo
The world maintain the stony silence
Mothers' hearts shattered to pieces
 by both the forces of Assad and Isis.

The lucky few hit the jungle
In Calais
braving the oceans 
And the deadly shells
Seeking shelter from us.
Yet a hysteria breaks
In heartless media
Demanding the samples of DNAs
They are not one of us
We must kick them back to the jungle
And have them deported to their lands
We won't offer no succor 
Let them be tortured
Let their bones get fractured
Let their mothers’ hearts shattered
They are not one of us.
These kids need a right old kicking
The heartless whores of tabloid shout.

We listen 
And hold our heads in shame
On the face of demonization of the victims 
Of the war
Where is our tolerance?
Where is our compassion gone?

Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

A Mother's Ears

A Mother’s Ears A mother’s ears become magic the minute she hears her newborn cry— nature turns up the volume like at no other time. The slightest cry, whimper, sneeze, cough, hiccup, sounds like a gong that vibrates her into action. Like a mama penguin coming in from the hunt at sea she knows the sound of her little one calling among hundreds— and she rushes to her baby. Baby’s special sound, mama’s special ears, they develop in the time of motherhood— a one-on-one relationship between sound and love. A mother is a communication system receiving, decoding, interpreting, sending, reacting— like an intricate multi-faceted machine— with a huge, beating heart of love, a mind full of devotion, nurturing and commitment— and magnificent ears. May 2, 2015 Contest: Parenthood Sponsor: Silent One

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Angel Baby

Misplaced inside my tube,
 is where you grew but did not fit.
No longer.could you be inside ,of me :(
But always.and forever my Angel Baby.

Copyright © lisa gomez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Loneliness and Despair

Tears oozed down my cheeks
As I read the unknown woman’s
last mystic diary entry:

The pain lingers:
Remembering the smooth skin of his face.
My heart is empty.
I can still feel the velvety touch
As my fingers ran down the contours
Of  his soft skinned nape,
tickling him on the sides of his ribs,
Hearing him giggle and gurgle:
Ecstasy....then silence!
For he was no more.
Kissing him, I bid him good night
and the sun has never risen ever since! 
Dust to dust and I am now
In an empty place,
An estrangement from the world,
A lost soul miserably trying
But failing not to despair.
I cannot weep but forlorn I sweat.
The sun sets in a blaze of fire,
The time for a hug dissipated.
Alas no such fire in me.
A cold soul wondering why,
Hoping it will survive
many other empty sleepless nights.
Am I cruel to transcribe this sad entry?
What right have I to publish that
which was evidently a private confession?
Tears, unrestrained, oozed down my cheeks .

26 July 2016
Three Stanzas- Three Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Placed 1 (15)

Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

A Lollipop in Page

The chirp of cloudy morning peal its wondrous beauty 
As it was a perfect moment to sip the taste of an old times
Pampered and drawn by those vintage voices
Shrunk in this sweet anomaly,  the frames of a time roamer

Word by word, time after time
An anecdote is herding, I'm dancing in a rime
Reread all my writes, feel the flakes of each verses
My masterpieces in time, the journal of life's flavours

Now I'm landing on a sketch of laughters
Where I feel the rainbow of bliss
A small creature is trying to stay
In a warm belly it grows in its way

Waiting is the first list to do
Hoping for the best is the lovely second line
I have another story to make
And this time I offer you the lollipop in page

Copyright © Yanny Widjanarko | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

A stifled cry

"It was a mistake", she said. 
A tiny life swiped in seconds as 
gods creation is rendered a 
mere cluster of cells. 
Returned back to heaven 
hoping the return policy 
wouldn't deny. 
It was a mistake; a stifled cry

A lifetime of progress, 
innovation, and memories down 
the drain.
The notorious "what if" 
squashed with plan b; no hopes 
of a future. 
A stifled cry 

She could have cured cancer or 
delivered world peace. 
She could've fed the hungry 
and housed the poor. 
She could've been a Honors 
Harvard medical school 
graduate and your pride and 
None are the magical christmas 
mornings, first days of school, 
or birthdays. 
Terminated are the memorable 
first steps and momentous  
coos calling for "mamma". 
No more possibilities. Now a 
stifled cry. 

"It was a mistake", she said. 
A moment of carelessness and 
selfishness translates into a life 
Sent back into the arms of god. 
An easy way out. A stifled cry.

Copyright © Lexi Break | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

In The Name Of Love

I was only sixteen when I gave birth to you a child having a child - my parents made a decision for me I would give you up for adoption and that is what happened the days after, I was lost confused and questioning the decision but I knew I could not care for you I was just a kid . . . part of me would never forgive me a part of my heart was forever missing when I got a bit older without my parents knowing I tried to find you but got nowhere then much later- I told my mother and father that I wanted to search they did not stop me . . . I searched for years not a day went by my son that I did not think of you I loved you although I never held you I was your mother . . . should I find you, I would not change your life perhaps just be part of it time went by and life went on first father passed and in time mother I inherited the family plot one day, I went to visit with roses and for some reason before leaving I went into the cemetery office . . . I asked for a list of who was buried in the plot as the lady read off the names, I nodded then she said, oh yes, and there is the baby boy a dagger stabbed my heart I asked the date- I could not breathe I had tears in my eyes I had found you, my baby boy the lady showed me your birth certificate and your death certificate and there was no doubt you died at birth . . . I know my parent lied to protect me in the name of love and I will never know why . . . why did they let me search the world could they not tell me the truth in my mothers dying breath could she not tell I will never understand the why and never forgive it made me so sad and that sadness still lingers I had "baby boy son of . . . and your date of birth" engraved on the family stone, after all I was the owner you were never given a proper name now, I know where you are and my search is over although you dwell in another realm you are my son and I am your mother . . . how many times did I stand at that cold tomb not knowing your bones lay beneath my feet I go often with a white rose for my sons because in time, I had two baby boy angels buried there, both loved . . . ____________________________________ July 19, 2016 Free Verse For the contest, Long Lost Family sponsor, Silent One Fourth Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Baby Blue Jeans

 She wears her kindness, a full length gown  as if it were a pair of baby blue jeans  soft in color, tough in its fabric. She is adorned in silk  refracts incoming ideas  produces her own. Like the shimmer  of this same silk  she is brilliant! Her embrace is boundless. Her exuberance unmatched. She is "music". Paints with the bold strokes of her guitar, the perfect pitch of her voice, natures smile. She is an original, nothing like you. She is  passionate, exactly like you. She offers all this, more. Chooses you. "I love her with every fiber..." Often I wonder. With so many beautiful words  attaching themselves so easily to women why would any man ever need to lie...

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

A Strong Man Like A Baby in Her Arms

He is a strong man: unbendable, unbreakable…steel
He is a brave man
He fights his battles
He claims his victories
Vicious and fierce when the need arises
Protective and overly zealous
A fighter
A gladiator who can wound
To protect what is his
A strong man by day

But then at night, oh sweet blessed night
A strong man like a baby in her arms
He is covered in her scented softness
She lets him suckle at her breast
Feeding him her soul
Nourishing him
Whispering in his ear
As she runs her hand through his hair
Gently binding his wounds from battle
Caressing his taught muscles with fragrant oil
Soothing him
Crooning to him
Letting the last sound in his ears
To be her melodious lullaby of love
Her mighty warrior...her baby

He drifts off into sleep
Covered in her blanket of charms
Safe from all harm
A strong man like a baby in her arms

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Not for Line Contest
“A strong man like a baby in her arms”
A line penned by Richard Lamoureux in the poem: A Warrior Princess

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013