Ode Child Poems | Ode Poems About Child

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Details | Ode |

Two Little Sparks

Two little sparks
enlightening the dark

(tidal waves tugging on the heart)

One named Amelia, the other Aurora:
Completing the scenery --- fauna and flora.
But Borealis, she has no stake in the matter,
for she is just a melancholy rainbow
in comparison --- to the flames that ignite
your very being ... all the while you take pleasure in the heat,
being warmed by their joy and curiosity.
Go ahead and draw lines in the sand

(they will jump over them with glee)

And simultaneously have you giggling
at their tenacity.

Two little sparks
through the woods      they embark

(one look at their eyes --- and there goes my heart)

Playing hide 'n' seek with the two of them
they disappear (and re-appear) just like fireflies in June.
Dotting the intrepid pathways like sparkles, like magic.
(the fact they'll one day grow up ... it's rather tragic)
Why can't they stay little forever and touch the ceiling
by riding on my shoulders?
Why not stay brittle so I can be protective --- instead like all things
you must grow older.

For now though     Oh for now!
It's nothing but a pipe-dream
in the wakefulness of day.
Youthful energy can't be contained
much like quarantine flame.

(and between you and me
that's an accurate analogy)

Between these two firebrands -
who could dare understand
what it means to be an uncle
... with the capriciousness of "one of the gang",
and the loving care of a parent.
And who could dare contemplate
this here man's tragic fate:
living next door to the both of them
with no fire blanket.

One's not even walking (the other barely talking)
And while that may seem rather shocking

nieces have that power
to play with your emotions like staccato raindrops
on that big ole blue
they call the ocean.

These flames aren't dying low (not even close)
but only gaining momentum      like a lightning strike in a forest:
a thousand popping pine cones re-seeding into infinity.

(And did I say divinity?     That too)

They be in competition for my love
like the tug-a-war moon.
It's the kind of game where everyone wins
and it's never too soon ...

... for one more go round.

Written March 9th, 2016
For the Twin Flames Contest Hosted by Nayda Ivette Negron

Placed Second

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Ode To A Wave

Ode To A Wave

Such beauty
Such ferocity
Such power
Traveling around the world
Pushed by tropical winds
You grow and fall
Only to grow ever stronger
Carrying ships and jetsam
Even moving lands before you
You are as destructive as you are beautiful
Yet, after your travels
At the end of your life
A child laughs and dances
As you tickle their feet as you roll across the sand
And then you are gone
Except in that child’s smile

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Poem for a sleeping child

Poem for a sleeping child   

There’s a wish to wander in your cool innocence
and cruise the thoughttides of no
responsibility—so easily you wipe your
shoeless feet on the ever waiting door
mat of socialization. How can I help you keep your 
tender "souls" intact—your tread from
wearing thin out of align so as not to
fall flat. Your easy grace put to an 
unfair test of ill-will winds blowing
carelessly at your soft back. I long for your sweet
calm at rest so deep so empty filled with
solid happiness—you know you are loved 
beyond any measure that’s human or infinite. If
I could walk with you for a moment and peek
quietly at your conscience-----but no-it's yours  
and no Dooleys allowed. Forgive me to 
want to intrude on your ever pleasant play-would you
share with me like the kernel of rice or
squashed raisin-I might, but only if we all
can go. Keep it hold it for as long as you
can-as it suddenly disappears without a trace
never to be found again lest you become your 
own sondaughter and learn to bask on 
the outside looking in—---and be content. I 
will live to never intrude on your soulspace,
but will always knock first. I am sorry ahead 
of time for any pain I cause—for my mat 
was torn treaded , muddy and ragged—my
sleep had no wanting witness. But I promise
to watch over you      all ways.

Dave Collins. Song, Poem for a sleeping child, music to write by, Kevin Ubanks. Best read if listening to the suggested music. Spring 1991.

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Child of Spring

In this passage of time
I long for the month of my birth
a real child of the spring am I
born on the Vernal Equinox
I come fully alive in spring

The sights and sounds of spring
do hold me in enthral
the beauty of each emerging bud
and oh to enjoy the warmth of sun

The busy work of nesting birds
the joyful songs they do emit
filling the world with wonder
as busily they feed their chicks

The carpets of the spring flowers
strewn here and there at random
gallant bluebells wave their trumpets
while stately daffodils bow their heads

All these bring such joy and lightness
to this weary old soul of mine
giving me the kick I need
to put away the winter blues

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Farewell my child

At Gateway yin

Long sham temple

Pink laced Taipei doll

 Sealed Carmine red lips 

Chiseled etched 

Fine porcelain 

From the four 

Corners horn 

Erected  during 


Dragon tail rains 

Swept gale winds

Funnel golden sand

Through pearly whites

That smile no more

Slighting the whitest Pearl

Ever Beautiful

Lifeless love soul

Dress eroded salty seas 

Passages are lingering..


Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle |

CHUBBY LITTLE GIRL: Ode to Bria Samone

I love her joyful smile, her hair in 
A plump round face with chocolate 
on her nose,
for she's her mamas' chubby little 

What better gift for me in all the 
wrapped in pink with lace and 
purple bows?
I love her joyful smile, her hair in 

Brown stains caress her mouth in 
one great swirl,
with a drop or two I saw upon her 
For she's her mamas' chubby little 

"I made a cake for you" she says, 
the whirls
around the room before she strikes 
a pose.
I love her joyful smile, her hair in 

"A cake for me?" I ask the precious 
I touch her sticky face and spotted 
She'll always be my chubby baby 

Hand in hand around the room we 
when we stop, I laugh and pull her 
I love her joyful smile, her hair in 
For she's her mamas' chubby little 

Copyright © TaMara Goode | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

One Day

One day, with these small hands I will forge the future. 
One day, with my small feet I will walk for miles and miles just like you taught me.
One day, with this small mouth I will say things, oh so sweet and try not to say the bad.
One day, I will stray from you and from all you have taught me. 
One day, I will realize I make mistakes and will apologize for my ignorance. 
One day, this small child you see will grow and make you proud. 
One day, I will find love and start a life of my own. 
One day, I will have children and teach them all you have taught me. 
One day, I will hold your hand like you held mine through all of the heartache. 
One day, I will carry you as you did me when I was but a child.
One day, but through it all never forget, I am forever your loving child. 

Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

A Galant City Unmatches Your Greatness

You are extreme in beauty perfected by builders who constructed all your planking with pine trees from Ivory coast and made a mast for you out of the combined crafts from brown ebony and snake wood. Out of the oaks from Bashan your Oars are made and from the cypress wood of Cyprus your decks crafted and inlaid with ivory. Your awning of blue and purple fabric are from Egypt and the inhabitants of America would be your rowers. These rowers will bring you unto the high seas you’ll become full and heavily loaded in its heart the countryside shakes at the sound of your sailor’s cries and all those who handle an oar will disembark from their ships The whole of Europe is your trading partner in choice garments, Cloaks of blue and embroidered materials and multicolored carperts which are bound and secured with cords in your market place. Your deals encompasses constant exchanges of turquoise, Corals, rubies, wheat from minnith, white whool, wrought Iron, Cassia and aromatic cane. Costal lines are your trading gardens and Roman ships will be the carriers of your goods. Your captains are your wise men and your wise men are the elders of Spain and Portugal who take charge in repairing your leaks. Your skyline will shade the sun and your islands, enrich the oceans you’ll be the wealthiest in culture and diversity because of your traders and visitors trooping from all corners of the Earth. Come forth now and prosper for greatness and fortune await your enrichment.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |


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 | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |


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 | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |


Oh! African child, the temple
A redient beauty of nature
Thou are the cradle capital
 Of humanity and creatures
The founder of patriarchal

Oh! African child,
The coy the toy of the wife
Beauty of nature and life
The belike of Bowie knife 
To war at still life rife strife

The child of joy the best of hymns
We beseech thee in betimes
Thy streamlet in our dreams
Screaming in daydreams
Like a storm in the Midstreams

African child, maker of BC 
From AD back the AC
The brain of agony and glossy
The married the plea and mercy 

Oh child of my fathers, prostrate
Crowns at thy feet for thy odelet
To sublime prime respect 
When thy pen upon d sky soar-th

1925 your maiden calleth
Upon a round table thought
The earth ornates thou as great
Oh! rejoice thou art great 
For the kingdom belongeth

(By Opurum Precious poet, writer and critic Nigeria)
copyright © odiboyp 27/07/2016

   The poem "ODE TO AFRICAN CHILD" by Precious odiboy is a poem that praises African children. The poet praises African children to a certain height
   In stanza one, he presents the beauty and uniqueness of African children. He sees the African children as the returning of nature and the beginning of human race as well as creatures. Thus:
   "A redient beauty of nature
    Thou are the cradle capital
    Of humanity and creatures"
Here , the poet maintains that African children are distinct from other children in the world.
  In stanza two, the poet presents the African child asthe beauty of nature and the joy of motherhood as well as the Sharp sword to fight against conflicts.
  In stanza three, he compares to beautiful songs as he praises them to come at the right time. He also compares the loneliness childlessness can cause to a woman and the emotional discomfort. Thus:
   'The child of joy the best of hymns
   We beseech thee in betimes
   Thy streamlet in our dreams
   Screaming in daydreams
   Like a storm in the Midstreams'
In stanza four, the poet sees the child as the maker of history from the past to the present. That is, before and after the time of Christ.
  In stanza five, the poet declares that kings and great men bow for children in praise and respect due to their value in heaven and earth.
  In the last stanza, the poet references the first World Conference held about children issues in 1925 which results to Children's Day today. He maintains that everything on earth honours children.
  Finally, he concludes that children should rejoice because the kingdom of God belongs to them as the bible says.
Diction: the language of the poem is very simple and straight forward to understand. The poet used some archaic words like 'beseech, betimes, belike, calleth, belongeth soar-th etc to foreground the figurative meaning of the poem.
Metaphor: the whole of stanza one is built of metaphor. Examples: Oh African child, the temple. The cradle of capital etc
Apostrophe: this is seen in stanza three, thus: We beseech thee in betimes.
Simile: Like a storm in the Midstreams
Allusion: Examples: maker of BC from AD back the AC: your maiden calleth (historical allusion). For the kingdom belongeth (biblical allusion)
Metonym: Examples Crowns at thy feet for thy odelet: When thy pen upon d sky soar-th (stanza five). Upon a round table thought (stanza six)
Imagery: brain of agony (stanza four), the crown (stanza five), round table (last stanza) etc
Alliteration: still-life-rife-strife ( stanza two)
Rhyme scheme  ababa,  cdddd,  eeeee,  ffff, gggg, ggggg 
Mood:  happiness, hope
Tone:  praise

Copyright © Precious Opurum | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

To My Child

My child, my adorable one, I see you
One of our future generations
In growing, behaving, talking, doing; 
A lot of advice I preserve for you
Come on in man, get all doors open 
To discharge your responsibilities
With knowledge, courage, patience
Getting over the adversity and vulnerability; 

People may say you can't do anything
I say you can do minimum a thing, 
Today you love the nature
Tomorrow you will love your country, 
Today you love a simple folk
Tomorrow you will love your nation, 
Today you have national sense
Tomorrow you will have international ability; 

I don't say you'll be a big leader
I say you'll be a strong pillar, 
We need many pillars like you
To build a strong house right now
To live, to meet, to talk, to share
All's feelings and opinions to bear, 
Now you are responsible for doing
And not doing the duty and responsibility.

Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

mother of no child

The mother of all
Protective and humble
With her manners that stands tall
A female that makes fledglings of no grumble
In her words are salvaging advice
A woman of virtue
The best of all that nurture humanity
She is cool, her presence is for the hurting; a medicated wool
Special she is
Forgotten not she will be
She will be told from one to another down through history
For the best of the best of women is she

Copyright © white sage | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Ode to My Middle Child

Patterns gleam in the sun
Threads lie side by side
Or criss-cross
In intricate patterns
Like individuals intersecting
Within the family
Each dependent yet separate
Blues, reds, greens and yellows complete the rhythm
Any strand pulled from this parade of colors
Reveals a gap in dreams unfulfilled

How I love you,
My middle child,
You are the elegant pendant
Dropping gracefully
From our necklace’s mid-point
Giving meaning to our chain of life

How I love you,	
My middle child,
You are the glue
Within life’s weavings
Irrepressible giggles erupt in play with older sister
Whispered consultations emerge from pillow sessions with younger brother
Bridging, always bridging
Giving, always giving

Know, my middle child,
Those stirring fears
Of being in between
Are fleeting ghosts
Your constant beauty shines
Like the lighthouse globe
Signaling to all 
Your presence

Rejoice in your role,
My middle child,
Imagine a shimmering reflection pool
Whose immutable colors
Expand and multiply
You are vital to a whole
That is greater than its parts
And you are loved deeply

Happy Birthday, Maureen
Love, Mom
September 27, 2014

Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Wishing For A Rainy Afternoon

I viewed the dawn through mist of fading dreams,   
Aware of silver feet upon the roof.
Eaves shivered wet, while raindrops welcomed spring
With murmured sounds, and giving me excuse
To burrow down and doze, with warming trace 
Of childhood mornings, which have blown away.
I stretch my arms and rise with no regrets,
And see a rainbow’s face
That arches over hills so far away,
From crayons of time, that I will not forget

I love the rain that falls upon the grass 
And look beyond the margins framed inside. 
I sense renewal come with mute caress,
Will find new places where my soul resides.
The child in me will dance among the dew,
In soggy dress and mud between my toes,
Not to be dampened by a state of care…
Although the day is blue…
My inner child ignores the dark and low, 
And thinks of rain the gift of something new. 

Contentment comes from little things I do
Old storybooks will dazzle wishes, fed…
to make believe that wishes could come true
I drink some tea, with snack of jam and bread,
And once again, with growing up to do
Old scrapbooks found, to leap right through my age
Just one more moment as the child relents 
My childhood bids adeiu
Recalling now, how fondness comes with sage
But knowing now, how well those days were spent~

In Honor of Cyndi's Contest: Comforts of a Rainy Afternoon

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Immortal - A Tribute to the life and voice of Dr Maya Angelou - Part I

As the life and voice of Dr. Maya Angelou were profoundly deep and moving, I hope you will find this grateful tribute to her to be fitting. As it is too long to be posted here, you can find it at


Or, Read it in parts I and II:

Part I:

The name woke me up - sat me up in my bed...
"Maya", the name my voice called out...
As I sat there in the dark, listening...
As I had so many times before...
Wondering at the "whys" and "how - tos" of my impossible dreams.

And as the dark, so was the divide -
That place in me, between what I was,
And the Why and Who I wanted to be...
But always, her voice, that voice named "Maya",
Had called across the divide as a still and steady light.

That unbreakable, unshakable, steady light...
I wondered where it was now, with blinking, thinking eyes.
Had it vanished? Was it vanquished? Could I once again rise -
In the dark staring dead at me... daring me to rise...
I felt hopeless, lost back in the divide… now growing ever and ever wide.

What happens now - my question?  A miracle now, an answer - indeed...
For through the dark, that voice named "Maya" whispered...
Whispered into me... sounding a new song's drumbeat creed...
"You", the whispering voice whispered..."You, child - Now, You"...
And my feet were suddenly planted, planted bravely on the ground.

And I stood tall and strong, stepping peacefully forward, twirling round,
For the dark no longer stared at me, but I stared into it...
It no longer owned me... but instead, I commanded it,
By a path so still and steady - and now, so brightly lit:
The light I had strained to see was now the miracle shining from inside of me.

My divide... was now, somehow... unified.
And again the whispering voice came: "Yes child - Yes - I speak your name…
I have come and gone so very far, borne witness to it - 
Have delivered a gift to you all - and you were born to use it.
Share it... wear it... and to the dark - dare it - with that unbreakable, unshakable light.”

“Be a voice for all seasons - make some noise for all the reasons,
The downtrodden have to hope for, that the world would grasp and grope for…
Be my voice Now… as I have been yours… a brilliant spirit, not a wandering ghost…
Make your choice, Now - Decide - to be Identified…
To see and live your unbreakable, unshakable, unstoppable dreams.”

Continued i Part II

Copyright © Kenneth Kirkpatrick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

The World Turns

the hyena cackle of rifle fire,
the wails of mothers and babes blown out like candles, 
smothered by the cold winds of war. 

little stumpy legs and thin spindly arms,
the body of a child soldier,
falls into the mud,
no tears fall, 
no lips kiss the wounds better,
no service carried,
no grave dug,

the world doesn't stop turning,
though we wish it would,
can life be worth it,
if this is part of the deal,
all the pain.

war, famine, rape, and toil,
beneath the machine a heart beats,
nature red in tooth and in claw,
and the sad truth is, 
that it was the heart that was cold 
and the machine that allowed us the means 
to a greater kindness.

but there is no such kindness here,

in those war zones evergreen of 
Syria, Nigeria, Uganda and the Congo, 
where innocence is lost amidst the struggles of tribes, 
where humanity is sacrificed,
at the alter of the demons inside us, 
paranoia fuelled by the green beard effect, 
the chains of our evolutionary make up,
tie us to this hatred, 
this fear, 
this wanton destruction. 

an all consuming fire, 
where mothers are whores, 
beaten and chastised, of no worth 
and fathers are spies for the enemy, 
rats to be tried by hungry executioners, 

a fire that turns children into dead eyed beasts and compassion into a fairy-tail.

little stumpy legs and thin spindly arms,
fall into the mud,
no tears fall,
no lips kiss the wounds better,
no service carried,
no grave dug.

The world turns, 
no matter how much we may wish it would stop,
the world turns.

Copyright © Oliver Gould | Year Posted 2015

Details | Chant Royal |

Ode to the Baby Mama

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. | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Autism Speaks

                     Autism speaks everyday in my house.
           Not always in words, because the words won't come out..

                  It speaks from the heart, and from the soul.
                It's seen in their eyes, as the burden they hold..

                  It's easy to see all the struggles they'll face.
                  Wishing that we could just take their place..

          Some days are hard, they can't express what is wrong.
                  Theses are the days I pray to be strong..

                  I pray every night and some nights I cry,
                Oh please Lord have mercy on my little guy..

              But our Lord has a purpose in all that he does.
                       Giving those special children ,
                to special parents, who have extra Love..

Copyright © Glen Schwartz | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

Ode to a windswept child


Proud windswept child
How shall I not
Look onto thee with fright?
- The Lord has spoken,
Loud and clear -
His will men cannot fight.

The Lord has spoken,
Yes - He said -
"As Sarah thou shall be -
The mother of six millions,
Those perished and decieved."

The Lord had mercy over me -
He sent His Angels forth,
Those strong-winged guardians
With their hard,
Never failing support.

Until the end comes
I shall fear
To speak about their names:

Of Hunger,


Of Terror,


And of their brother -


Oh windswept child,
Thou need not say
What Lord has given thee -
The might of all Jerusalem,
The freedom of the sea...
And blissfully He lets you stand
Before my tearless eyes -
He gives you sheer naivety,
A will to be surprised.

So easily He lets you think
All power is now yours -
But lessons history shall teach
Will show that you were wrong...

Copyright © Domi Marchewka | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Ode To The Girl Child - in 4 parts


There are more gruesome...,
acts of patriarchy. 
Devised to Subjugate, the girl child.
Men, so cunningly....,
planned, in the dark of the ages.

The devil; if he exists, would envy.
And perhaps, shrivel away in shame.
And never cease to exist.

But, who created the devil..?
Another, pigment of imagination of mankind.  
A mole to infiltrate, the Humane mind.
And keep the subjects,
infected, in fear; of reprisal.

You have come, a long way my Sweetheart. 
Because, if you are reading this poem.
You consider, yourself well emancipated. 
There was time in history.
When you would have been, 
crucified or burnt, alive in the stake...???
Because you have committed, 
An unholy and evil act.

You have learnt to read and write. 
And liberated your self. 
And men have become very insecure.

You got a very long way to go baby. 
The choice is in your hands. 
UNSHACKLE, your mind from yourself. 
There's a host of virus
In your HD.

Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |


Rapunzel hair 
For mummy 
Eyebrows mummy 
She paints 
On kitchen rolls 
Purple felt and rouge 
Age 3
Aspirations: variable 
Artist today 
Yasemin Balandi

Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

Ode to Carissa

As I watch you sleep
It reminds me of what I cannot lay claim to
A past long forgotten in the deepest recess of my mind
A Peace so profound I could not fathom
I strive so hard to remember how it felt
I struggled for a glimpse of the childhood long lost
But all I can come up with is dust.

As I watch you stretch your pudgy hand
I tried to recollect what being a baby is like
I struggled for the glimpse of the childhood long lost
But memory failed me
Your cute grunt warms my heart
Your tiny face expressive even in your sleep,
Gives me the purest joy.

As I watch you sleep
I ponder the world you inhabit 
Who really can know the world you inhabit
Who knows the dream you dreamt
My cute baby, the world I promise you not
But a beautiful life is God’s promise
My tiny cute bundle of joy,

As I watch you sleep,
With all the cry and grunts,
The sleepless night taunts
The constant diaper changing,
I will never trade my little buddle,
Sleep tight, my daughter Carissa and let me 
Watch your face my little bundle

Copyright © Leo Sanmi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Ode To The Girl Child - in 4 parts


















Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |


Behold there, a Somalian child is standing upon dry hard rocks.
Its two eyes glitter like a rough diamond, parched, bleak and dark.
Its belly exhibits the fragile bony ribs and silently mocks
The phony Art that seeks phony beauty even in wounded scar-mark.

The orphan boy was trying to scream but no voice came out
From its barren vocal cord, empty stomach and shrinking lung.
Its salty tears have dried out too like parched petals of a dead sprout.
Its face looked blue and pale as if it were serpent-stung.

This child, like all newborns here, was born with a constant Curse
Of utmost struggling life until it moves, stares, breathes no more.
Even showers upon the drought-infested land cannot reimburse
The untold tales of such millions of children, the Pain-store.

Two immobile figures of dead parents laid on dusty ground
And blurred cries of the child melted in heat of wind there.
No humans were there to hear except vultures that hovered around
The dead bodies and waited until death of the tiny figure.

Copyright © Osman Gani | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Ode To The Girl Child - in 4 parts

Its not you fault, don't be sorry. 
Paradox of creation...
A most misconceived,
divine beauty, etched in pain.

The pain that you experience,
is a mistake of creation.

If I had my way...?
I would have divided, the burden. 
Why should you alone..,  bear the heft.

I would have gifted, the male child; 
half of your pain.

Just like, how two instruments.
Mingle, to produce a piece,
of wonderful music.

So whenever she gracefully,
experiences, the jagged, cycle of life.
Her partner should also be humbled.

There is no rhyme or reason,
for this kind of discrimination.
He should have taken my advice.

Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Miracle Walk With Special Angel Of My Son

There were days and nights
When I wondered and cried for my sons healing
In such a storm of darkness you came my way
Your eyes were filled with the glory of God
Your words were so gentle and giving me hope
Gods grace was shining upon your face

Each time when my son stumbled
You reached out for him and lifted him up in your arms
Giving him hope and strength through your miracle touch
Dr. Krishnan. You indeed were an angel for my son! 
You watched over my son’s health 
You served my son day and night 
When the whole world was in deep sleep
And thank God for you for your grateful heart.

You’ve touched my son’s life in a special way 
You’ve touched our hearts with your kindness
And compassion in a special way
When storms were raged in my life! 
Angels are among us and to me 
You are One of Them
You are my sons Special Angel
So wonderful and rare

I thank my God every time I remember you.
Words cannot express how grateful I am 
For treating my son and healing him 
And for restoring his health back to normal 
And for saving his precious life
Thank you for your miracle touch from God 
Thank you for your angelic team.

In my prayer for you I pray
That God bless you and use you in all of His ways
May God's fragrant blessings be upon you everyday 
In every way, now, tomorrow and always 
Doctor, you are gift from God, a valuable treasure
I Hope you know, How much, you’re appreciated! 
Thanks So Much for all you did for my son and for my family! 
Dr V Krishnan, You are always remembered and never forgotten
Wherever we are and wherever we go!

Copyright © Shaila Touchton | Year Posted 2016

Details | Classicism |


From his voice springs the tenderest sound of lute
There is not a moment
In the company of my little cherubim
Oh how I love him, how I love him!
Dissonance played in my core.
Before his birth 
My first born.
Our pride and Joy.
The cold of winter is all but gone, gone, gone!
Even your sulkiness embalms my soul.
You and your sister bring the most
Joy joy joy!
 To our household.
* to my little boy

Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Ode To The Girl Child- in 4 parts


You have, a long way my dear. 
And a much longer,
journey awaits you.

There was a time, in history.
During this period of grace.
She was condidered, so impure.
And not allowed to enter
Hallowed places.

Even the living spaces. 
Because man decreed, that,
God considered...!
his own creation sacrilege...?????

At times; she....,
because of this stigma.
If an untoward evil should happen.
Be considered the reason, 
for such an event.
Was burnt alive in the stake...
because she was the curse of the Gods...!

A sacrifice, 
to appease the creator....!
who cursed his own creation...?

This is just a pigment of history.
Just one turn, one view. 
Through the kaleidoscope, of life.
 Tribulations, of our beautiful girl child.

Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

The 6th Child

Woman, she is
A mother of five

Man, he is
A father of five

In a life
Of ups and 
They share- 

The four walls 
Of loneliness
The woven rug 
Of love

And in the throbbing shadows, 
Of fear and joy, they are waiting 
Eagerly, for me, to come out

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008