Verse Child Poems

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Details | Free verse |
in the uncoloured tint of another everyday amongst the spit polished waxed apples tightly packed in burlap bags they walked like minded in their own burly wrap oblivious to the irony to their similarity of the markets round red fruit unaware of the tragedy the horror of events yet to come it will rain metal shrapnel as human minds grasp with the purpose of their existence as in their ignorance they understand their worth as human bombs with a belief the heavens will open the gates with a fanfare and a promised blessing for their divine act of unquestioned belief the clay shaped bricks the black iron metal stairs the drum sound of engines then the lull not after but before before the pulse of the storm the rain of death yet this moment captured this photograph with man and child in hand smells sweet you wonder bemused why? the world travels aimlessly singularly no one nothing in the universe suggests exposes even a hint even a glimpse not a clue that would lead reveal an answer. life in its contradiction like the proverbial apple offers both the miracle the curse.
09/23/2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014




Details | Free verse |
I don't want to be your sister I don't want to be your mother I don't want to be your wife nor your mistress or a lover I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Sucking on your needless thoughts Playing hopscotch in your mind Building castles in your hand take your footseps above the sand I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Your burnt sugar,Crystallize Pour it across your sterile smile till it sparkles in your eyes Make you play games grownups wish but never do 'Hide and seek,Catch-you're it Pillow-fights, and Mr. Who' I want to be the child you birth on a wombless night Make you soar where the winds blow Reach the kite within your soul I would camp inside your heart Let our rhytmic beats impart I would breathe inside your life Bring the sun,and end your strife I want to be the one I want to be the inner child which kiss your lips with bliss and in your joys,reside

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
O' middle child, dear son of mine, you have always let the others shine
All through the years, you have stood behind
---I want to say, I've noticed you  

Your sister's charms, of course, we knew...
And your brother's skills were multitude
But, my quiet child, though your words were few
---I want to say I've noticed you

While people cheered, and guitars were played,
 as your siblings sang upon the stage
You cheered them on with no restraint
---but, I want to say I've noticed you

Such wit and charm, a heart of gold, 
More generous soul, I've never known
A shoulder you will always lend
---a brother, friend until the end

I love you all, .....of course I do
I have watched you grow, each one of you
My quiet child, you are still the same
---you'll step aside from all acclaim

As parents now, all three of you
I am proud beyond the words I hold

My middle child, I hope you know, 
while you've always been a one to sow
a quiet gift to all you've known

---I want to say I've noticed you........


                                                            




______________________________________________________
4/30/2013

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013




Details | Free verse |
like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come 

dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings

don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat

I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure

                but, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it

protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine, 
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control

like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us,  and then they all go home...

do we cry........?  Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now


                for, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it
      __________________________________________





4/12/13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Lapis lazuli mines with wide blue eyes
bringing to mind precious stones and
caramel scones; innocent and wise -
Wondering, yet without surprise.

Staring down the universe, a challenge
in your look though you are young;
The earth made only nine revolutions 
since you came out to see the sun.

Unguarded and arched, your brows 
betray high wire tension; enough 
to light up a hundred moons and warm
plump cheeks to cherry bubble gum.

Be not impatient to grow; you smell
of open grasshopper meadows
and firefly lighted lakeshore walks.
You’re a mother’s envy and pride.

Red lips! Your passion for life exists.
Scarlet, lipstick would be a surfeit -
Today as then till many summer’s been,
your spirit will always be free as the mist.



After:  Portrait of Carol Nye  Rhoades (Robinson) (1915)


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting No. 2
Kim Patrice Nunez
08 January 2016

Poem of the Week:  January 10-16, 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Satin streaks of sun filter her golden ray
and with a glimpse of beauty float away

Tiny floret
precious floret
carry off my dreams
to bountiful fields of white
where innocence plays
on a sun shiny day

Breeze
glorious breeze
carry her free
show her angelic heights
amid visions of white
pointing towards 
star cover nights

Tiny floret 
the daisy has called 
share your petals
with the world
let go my guiding hand 
surround yourself in splendor
and with the new dawn shine 


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
~It's a Beautiful Day~

Under every star, 
A smile waltz-like no other
Once a simple cherry blossom girl, 
enjoying puppets and lullabies.
Sitting in front of the screen
Anxiously waiting for him to come in
through the front door, whistling a song, 
trading a suit jacket, for a zippered sweater;
made with love. ---My day just got better---

   ***It's a beautiful day***
In a charming little town square 
A servant, serving a friendly atmosphere
Welcome to the land of make-believe, 
where all my friends are real.
Here comes the speedy delivery 
Mr. McFeely and his letters.
Prancing puppet skin in love with
Beautiful Lady Aberlin.
Henrietta, a mighty and feisty pussycat
My favorite strings are the king and queen
Before the show ends, Trolley's a friend
tooting around from make-believe to reality.
   ***It's was a beautiful day***
Oh the innocence of my childhood, 
       My neighborhood is gone

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
I paint your beauty in my heart and mind  
in swirling strokes of wind squalls and light;
the youthful lift of limbs of early spring,   
with summer’s joyful red, with fall's surprise.
I paint you in wonder of winter’s white
through snow storm's chill and my loving eyes.

I paint you beyond the blue pain of the past
with the gray of fear the future hides.
Jealous of luring space and power of time, 
yet, with all the hope, the joy, the ache
as seen in the strength of my trembling hand;
I’ll paint you again my child, mesmerized.


After:  L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 8
Kim Patrice Nunez
17 January 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
an early morning rise,
up the stairs
walk into the bathroom 
in the sink
a small stain of blood.

less than a measure of yesterday 
pulling a baby out of the womb into my arms.
on the sheets
a small stain of blood.

midwives  wrap
my first born
snug and warm.

when her mother
finally gets her initial fill
she hands me this precious
new life.

i hold her knowing
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,

sweet scented perfection!,
lulls me into a peaceful bliss.

as she grows,
i spend my best times with her 
and later her sister too.

my daughters own me 

lock,

stock

and

barrel.

Ali?

 i still see your
baby green eyes
reaching out to me.

i still smell your
childhood scent.

i can still taste
your hopes and dreams.

i can still touch
your youth as if it were now,
hear your tiny voice

 "daddy i love you but you're my best friend too".

there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,

you're now twenty two.
in the sink?
a small stain of blood.

in your bedroom 
cocaine,

syringes,

...everywhere.

i clean 
carefully picking them up.

i know you know you're playing
russian roulette with your life.

the drug convinced you 
your life isn't worth living.
that's what drugs do.

they're that snake in the garden of eden
and you know eve ate that apple
and you know she sacrificed everything
for a fruit that would never taste that good again.

evil always presents itself as the only choice
while good seems too tough an alternative
but the truth is, the harder you have to work for it 
the better it feels and it holds its feel with nothing to chase.

you can't hear me
the monster deeply 
imbedded in you.

but Ali i love you
and Ali my heart weeps
and on my chest sits
a small stain of blood!



June 3 2015
Armand



Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
When you are alone
In a disaster zone
Being lost and forgotten,
Afraid of the world unknown,
With care and courage I will arrive
And lay down by your side,
In the temple of his kingdom
I will pray for your life.

From hills nearby, I hear your cry
I'll pick you up, and hold you high
I'll hold you tight, won't let you fall
Deep in my heart, I hear your call

You're just a child
You did nothing wrong,
When so many die
And life just tags along, 
With message of hope I will arrive
And lay down by your side,
In the temple of his kingdom
I will pray for your life.

From hills nearby, I hear your cry
I'll pick you up, and hold you high
I'll hold you tight, won't let you fall
Deep in my heart, I hear your call

You miss your Dad,
You miss your Mom,
You miss so much their loving hug
And as you ache for mother's touch
I'll wrap you in my motherly hymn,
A lullaby of love I will sing
And lay down by your side,
In the temple of his kingdom
I will pray for your life
In the temple of his kingdom
You will live and survive.

October 7, 2017
Placed 2nd: Bridge over troubled water
Sponsor: John Hamilton

Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
I walk towards you,
as you stand waiting at the center of the bridge.

Beneath my feet, aged timbers span the churning river below.
With each step I see you more clearly.
My eyes search out the younger you,
that wild child with chestnut hair.
I can still remember your pigtails and ear to ear grin.
Back then, laugher was such an important part of us.
Somehow,
thankfully,
from the start, 
we just seemed to get each other.

As I approach,
I see both of us in your eyes.
The twinkles hidden within the wrinkles,
laugh lines, the evidence of our pleasure.
As you open your arms we embrace.
For a moment, time relinquishes its dominion.
Two friends once again, occupy a sacred moment,
grieving and celebrating the passage of everything.
We wonder, what if anything can be reclaimed?
Together, wishing yesterday forward!

The bridge groans under our childlike expectations.

In a split second everything changes!
We place young hands on the bridges revived splendor.
Amazed, we look over its railing.
There below, the river reverses upon itself,
flowing backwards until it stops.
The glass like surface reflects back images of our younger selves.
I look back into your eyes with wonder, 
how is this possible?
Once again we are both twelve,
standing on this baby blue bridge.
You too look shocked,
What is going through your mind?

Age has loosed its shackles!
The years reeling back like hands on a sprung clock.
I think my eyes deceive me, but it is you.
A cowlick sticking straight up and you have that crooked smile.
Your blue eyes playfully daring me,
to follow you into a new adventure.
This adventure occupies the reaches of our imaginations!
Your hand rests beside mine,
it feels familiar and safe.
How I have missed you my friend,
missed your voice, your exuberance for life.

As twilight lingers
and the stillness of time settles about us,
I see us as we were.
Long ago we said our goodbyes on this very bridge.
We promised one day we would return to this very spot.
A pinky swear magical promise!
Then we waded into our unknown years.
The river of time split us in two directions.
Many escapades, broken hearts,
triumphs and horrors.
Somehow, we grasped at the memories of a forever friendship.
A phone call, a transformative whisper,
beckoning us to return,
to a bridge,
to a time,
to a feeling.

Twelve years old,
hands clasped and swinging.
We skip to the beat of our own accordians. .
Together we dare life to give its all.
We are ready once again,
for skinned knees,
adventure,
perhaps some heartache,
but mostly belly laughter and ear to ear grins!

Written in collaboration with Monterey Sirak.
It is a pleasure to work with such a talented poet.




Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Idiot


You with the black eye
Idiot
You all bruised and blue
Idiot
You with dried blood and no hope
Idiot
You who climbs and plays
Idiot
You who feels hungers pain
Idiot
You who was born into the rain
Idiot
You who never saw a rainbow
Idiot
You who is all of four years old
Angel


Rescued at last from satan's helpers grasp
Idiots

Little child who suffered so
You so sadly found your parents were foe
You have been restrained in bondage
By the blackness of human shame
Tears rains down
Thinking why the devil plays such games
Deep purple bruising, 
Only the surface pain
May your first four years
Never exist again

May a thousand cuddly hugs
and a thousand loving smiles
Blanket your heart and tickle your tummy
Saved
You are gods little angel
Safe and sound at last
Loved

* see notes

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
 
      Under the Christmas tree sits a nativity scene in the old town square. I sit on a rustic wood bench and reminisce on the stories I’ve been told about Jesus being born on Christmas Day. When all of a sudden I hear movement in the bushes; I turn my head and look over my shoulder. With a sudden fright, a tall pure white stallion with feathered wings, steps forward and says, “My name is Peg, climb on my back and I’ll take you to where it all began.” I arose to my feet and got on Peg’s back, held on tightly to his mane. He galloped off at full speed facing into the wind and took off soaring into the night full of stars, being guided by a large, bright, glowing star. 

      Peg turned his head and said, “That is the Christmas Star ahead.” 

      As I looked down below, I saw coming from the east, three men. Could they be the three Wise Men!    

      As we reach the star we slow down to a town. Peg said, “This is Bethlehem down below.” 

      Peg starts descending close to a stable and lands. I anxiously dismount and we both walk towards the stable. My spirit was overpowered with awe, there in the small dim lite stable, we found a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, with his mother Mary kneeling beside Him. 

      The shepherds that were watching their flocks near the stable also came all elated, one of them said, “An angel appeared and told us a Savior, the Messiah, had been born and that we would find Jesus laying in a manger. So, we immediately came to see if truly Jesus our Savior was borned. ”
   
      Heaven was rejoicing at the birth of a Savior for all people.

      The three Wise Men arrived and said, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.” They gazed at the young Child and immediately fell down and worshiped Him, they presented their gifts to him of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

      We stayed for a while in admiration of our Lord Jesus. 

     After a time Peg said, “ I need to get you back before you are missed.”  

      Together we flew into the endless night back home to the Christmas tree where I had been before. 

By Eve Roper 11/18/2014 © 2014 

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Their young strong-willed son, ever resourceful, has been given "time out" for bad behavior. There is no noise coming from the room. After two hours, the mother grows concerned. Why has there been none of the usual clamor by him to be released from his small prison? As she walks into her child's room, she is startled by the claws of lions which seem to spring from the right side of the room. She spins around with a gasp. On four walls are different animals crouched or ready to pounce. A black panther, which peers at her with huge yellow eyes, takes center stage above the window where it has been drawn in bold crayon strokes as if it were creeping in from the outside to join the landscape of the magnificent lush green jungle applied to the once-white surface of the walls surrounding her. Owls and tropical birds perch on the branches of the jungle trees, and a fat green snake slithers by the door. Her son, finishing up the wall nearest his bed, looks up at her from the piles of crayons strewn across the floor and impishly smiles. Did I mention, he is also very artistic? Written Feb. 22, 2016 For the contest of A.A.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
We are so different

I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?

I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple

Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all 

We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Yours truly
Two fathers
Of this world


Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
I remember Christopher Robin
When helping Pooh find honey
Was my biggest problem
I remember the blustery days
We trusted each other in every way

I remember When we helped Eeyore
Find his way home from the Sea shore
Everything was good
In the Hundred Acre Woods

I remember Curious George
I had to chase him a hundred miles
As soon as my mother kissed me good night
We went around the world
But we made it home
Two minutes before sunlight
And everything was alright

And Sammy the Seal would let me get on his back
And ride for a million miles
We exchanged halcyon smiles

And I remember the monster
Who brought fear to the hundred acre woods
Scarier than the Heffalump
Scarier than the thing with the Black eyes
He was pure evil in disguise
He told lies

Filled with evil and guile
Christopher Robin called him a Pedofofile
It tried to seduce me
Ten minutes after my mother introduced me

I remember that ice cold June
When Mama said “We’re getting married soon"
And Disney left the room
I remember when
Larry Flint
And Hugh Hefner moved in
And H.A. Ray moved away
And Dr. Seuss and Syd Hoff
Took the Summer off

I remember seeing the door knob turn
The Pedofofile kneeled on one knee
Said he had a story he wanted to read to me
And he brought pornos to my bed
Mother Goose turned her head
Christopher Robin Fled
Curious George hid under the bed
And the hundred acre woods were
filled with dread

I remember us all gathering around
The meeting in Hundred acre woods
Christopher Robin said if I
Opened up the pornofo graphic
magazine
I could be banned for good

I asked him what’s a Pornofographic magazine
He didn't know exactly what to say
But saidt they were ten times worse
Than any blustery day

But i was curious like Curious George
I was curious like Curious George
I opened the Pornofographic magazine

I remember the woman
I saw more of her insides than a doctor
I remember the dog on top of her
But I can’t tell you what they did
And i cried out for Winnie the Pooh
I just wanted to be a kid

I remember the last time
I saw Christopher Robin
Tears rolled down his chin
he asked me why I had to
Let the pedofofile in
And it was a blustery day times ten

And I waved goodbye to Piglet
And Roo to Tigger
And the heffalump too
But Mostly I remember standing closely
To Danny the Dinosaur
He told me he would always love me
But I couldn’t slide down his back anymore

I remember 1974

2011 Dr. Seuss Poet M.e. Michael Ellis..

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
 
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 | Verse |
With your teary eyes fixed on me we walked to the station; your little hand glued firmly to mine. No words passed between us – just a deathly silence as the train arrived. We tightly embrace; my heart was breaking but I smiled; said I would see you again soon, with your teary eyes fixed on me 10~22~14 Contest 8 lines 7 words enjambment Sponsor Rick Parise ~awarded 3rd place~

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

Walking hand in hand with mama

My long brown french pleats  bouncing in the wind 

My new red plastic boots ready to be shown.


Reaching high upon my tiptoes ...

I swung  the large french brass knob  back and forth

until  my short chubby sweet  nonna opened the door.

As soon as I saw her, my hazel eyes changed

 into different shades of caramel swirl.

I  am her first born niece,  and her little girl.


It could have been a beautiful  memory to write down

Running up those marbled  tiles , gazing through the hallway 

 at the two dark giant iron knights . How I wish I could have been

like them , just as brave  and wise.


In the  busy kitchen I hugged nonna over and over again

I loved how her  apple  and cinnamon  pies wafted ,filling Saturdays 'air.

I loved the teaspoon sounds , as the sugar in the coffee cup was stirred

It was a symphony , blissful  music to my ear.



Next to mama ,in the dining room , on a padded  orange rexine chair I sat

Playing snakes and ladders whilst I heard them chat.


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

If I had not  followed uncle Bob  that afternoon

Along the long corridor we walked , to his room 

At the far end, Inside, I was promised  a delightful  surprise.  


The red velvet  curtains He shut down.  All  turned dark !

 The squeaky  old  door  slammed . I could  listen

 to the fast rapid beating of his vacant heart.



I could feel him getting close , too close .




I could smell his stinking breath and feel his  hand

It slipped hungrily , unbuttoning my innocence and  collar shirt.


He pushed me down on my knees, head and face both pressed.

My lollipop lips  too close to sour scents ,  I would never  forget. 


Everynight  cold in my bed , I scream -  Regret...

I do not want to remember, yet how can I forget


It could have been a beautiful memory to write down

But all I have is a blank page. 

In that house of nonna where  once I laughed and played 

All there is  are secrets , insecurity, my shadow  and its shame.





Fiction poem inspired by Becca's contest against Child Abuse...

Not for the contest,  but thanks for the inspiration. 

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
The song that moves and
 touches my heart is dance 
with my father again.
Because I will never forget 
the man my father was.
Back when I was a child 
I longed to be in his 
presence.
He had a larger than life
personality. 
His nieces and nephews
looked at him as a father.
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance 
with my father again”.
Everytime I hear the song I 
begin to cry.
I long for his hug
I long to hear his voice
“Oh lord I’m dying to dance
 with my father
again”
“ Oh lord we’re all dying
 to dance with my father 
again”.

4-4-17
Alexis Y
Inspired by my favorite song
Dance With Father Again
Written by Richard Marx And
Luther Vandross
https://youtu.be/wmDxJrggie8

Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Yet another incident has happened today
When will these terrorists go away
Manchester this time at a concert
Some taken to early some really hurt

Thier war now affecting the general public
These people are just really sick
To target young children having fun
Your sick and something will be done 

You will not scare us of British decent
Your cowardly acts you must repent
We will hunt you down and take you in
A six foot cell your life will begin

Prayers go to all those that were there
Great British people show that you care
For those that have lost I shed a tear
Defeat this terrorism show no fear

Stay alert and watch each others backs
We can beat these cowardly attacks




Copyright © Gordon Alexander | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Why do we do what we do?
Writing words day after day
Unsure if anyone will read them
If they will get the message we tried to say
A million words with many meanings
Thrown together in our language
How will we know the right ones?
They ones which say what we want to say
Just one word, one syllable, one letter
Out of the place where it should be
The meaning could be lost
We struggle through endless hours
Wondering and writing
Cutting and pasting words and lines
Then in a miraculous moment
It happens
The words are right
The syllables are right
Each and every letter is right
After all the pain and stress
Our child is born
We post in on-line
Publish it in a book
We send our child out into the world
And no one reads it

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
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.
Shhh, 
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,
Faltered,
Ceased.

I am always with you.
Child,
Deceased.
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 |
There is no hint, that this child of three
Could comprehend..
With his unknowing, smiling face,
With a cowlick in his hair, freckles here and there 
Who takes the air from my lungs, at a glance
Skin glistening, pink and rosy from the sun,
As he comes bounding through the door,
Mud on small shoes and face
Not an inkling or a trace..
Of any clue of the pace 
How my heart beats,... how it swells
The way my love wraps around 
His small body so tightly, that he would gasp.
This adoration that I feel....

    But of course, I don't squeeze tightly.
      I must hold my love for him
        With more restraint,
          Keep my arms encircled in a more gentle embrace,
             For he wouldn't understand how much love
                His sweet presence stirs up the air I breathe
                   This child, this precious son of my daughter
                      Will never know the joy
                          He has brought into my life






............................................................................................................

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
  From a babe to a man, I needed your hand. Now I understand, it was part of God's 
ultimate plan. I was to be raised by another woman.  Don't get me wrong, Grandmomma was something! She gave me all the love a child could need. She was always there for me. Truly a blessing! No Mother, you don't owe me a thing. Not even an explanation. I can't sing, so I wrote this dedication, tTo show my appreciation.

 Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance; rRegardless of what you've done. As God is my witness, I'm still your son.

Yes I hold resentments, and that is hard to ignore. My hurt I can't hide. When 
you kicked me out. And out of your three children, why was I the one you let go? 
From afar you watched me grow. Did you worry about my well being? On the surface, looks can be deceiving. No, I was not well. I was actually a child living in hell. Easy for you to say "It's over, it's the past". I was forced to grow up too fast!

Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance. Regardless of what you've done. As God is my witness. I'm still your son.

I remember spending the night with you and that was such a treat, just to escape the hurt from being beat. Looking back it was a real tragedy. I felt you didn't love me. You were my Mother but you gave me up so easily. Grandmomma became my only family. The only person I could rely on. But now she's gone. Even now as a grown man, I feel so alone. If I could sing, this would be my song--

Momma, Momma you're my queen. For you I would do anything. I just want you to be proud of me. Whatever I've done, please accept my apology. I'm not perfect, never claimed to be. 

But I am strong. Especially dealing with this pain for so long. I just hope we can finally be a family when I come home.

Dedicated to my Momma "Phyllis Ann Lopez"


Note: Thank you Poetry Soup for allowing me to share another piece of my life.   From both 
pieces "For Grandmomma" to this piece "For Momma" you can picture my relationships with 
both women. My mother was far from perfect...But no one is perfect and I love her all the 
same!  Jimmy

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
Bisected cattle. Divided
by nurture, not nature.

Fumes seep from amniotic tombs,
corrosive, curling round curiosity.

Curio cows entombed, split
and suspended like the herd hanging

speechless, tongues silenced
after lunch munching on gossip

bovine, tethered to turquoise time.
Glacial wombs separate, untouchable.

But no cow is sacred
in this slice-and-dice life

and the dismembered world
reflected in an onyx eye is unholy.

Life herded to still life, dividing Mother
and Child, womb and tomb.

No place for mother and child
in this mausoleum of macabre

where Friesians freeze in formaldehyde -
a frieze of unease, soundlessly bawling

that bonds get broken,
that life's knife dissects us all.




23 May 2017

To view Damien Hirst's work go to www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/hirst-mother-and-child-divided

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
From a mouthful of this morning’s eggs,
I pull bits of char from yesterday’s breakfast.
‘I had no chance to scrub the pan’, I plea with myself-
But I still smash it over my skull
like a cartoon.

Every morning I wake up 
feeling last night’s feelings,
thinking last night’s thoughts,
about what’s happening 10 years ago, 
and what happened tomorrow.

If you add up every 
simultaneous
suffocating
moment 
I fight through- 
just to say:

‘i love you’

It would stretch for longer than I’ve known you,
which is longer than I’ve been alive.

There was no ‘today’ in my broken egg. 
No difference between coming or going,
to an automaton in purgatory 
who saw life through the pinhole eyes 
of a cardboard mask won at a birthday party 
I never asked for.
The sky looked like the ceiling of a small, dark closet.
and flowers looked like plastic bargain bin decor 
coated in lead paint, the kind left on roadside graves.
I used to count those as a child,
on the way to destinations 
I still dread my arrival to.

If I were brave enough to show you my awe and my terror
of loving the one who revealed 
the world as something real, all this time-

I would sink face down in dirty bathwater 
choking on wet, laughing sobs
until my fingerprints wrinkled away
and tear at my clammy skin 
until my soft nails bent backward
and paint red bruises all over my trembling body
that would spell out a primitive language 
neither of us had the chance to learn. 

This is my best guess:

‘i am just a bad thing that happened
a book of false memories and blind feelings. 
You are a very fast reader,
You’ll soon reach the end of me.’

I remember drawing a map in crayon 
of every ditch I saw myself lying in
strange, unnatural positions.
Like I'd been struck by a car,
and someone shoved my body away
so I wouldn’t mess up the next one.

Copyright © Eden Kurova | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
What do I say to you
what do I say
could I go back?

If I can face you
face the truth
could I then save— 

What question is this
it leaves me cold
leaves me with guilt

I'm here, a ghost
barely alive—
tell me I'm good

Tell me that once
the day will come
life really starts

One day you will
be me, then we grow up
we will survive

***

October 12, 2017
For contest: What Child Is This
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017