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Villanelle Baby Poems | Villanelle Poems About Baby

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

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Details | Villanelle |

Innocence Interrupted

Sacred beginnings, but my end too soon
I lie helpless in false serenity
preparing for life, her womb is my tomb.

I am like a flower, ready to bloom
my small frame forms, unborn tranquility
sacred beginnings, but my end too soon.

Her voice, so familiar, screams in that room
my little heart pounds in futility
preparing for life, her womb is my tomb.

Pain, a new sensation, sharp, coursing through
my frail body, in death's reality
sacred beginnings, but my end too soon.

I cry out in silence, my parts are consumed
stricken and murdered so conveniently
preparing for life, her womb is my tomb.

My innocent blood spilled unwillingly
unprotected, unheard, why should this be?
sacred beginnings, but my end too soon
preparing for life, her womb is my tomb.




Written on 7/22/2015




Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015


Details | Villanelle |

Song of Green Rebirth

Tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth
new moment of soil floods his open, seeking face
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.

He beckons to the willow; wonders at her girth
I carry him close--we grace willow with embrace
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth.

He speaks with the daffodil, sharing her mirth
and sighs, contented in his own cosmic place
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.

I watch as he contemplates the wind chime's verse
while his fingers explore clover woven like lace;
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth.

Wholly in love with the world in which he's immersed,
drawing from each aspect of the wild rose's grace,
this way, the child learns a song of green rebirth.

To him, every moment so tastily diverse
and our garden, mystical as far reaches of space
tiny crabapple feet ply the soft, fertile earth--
each day the child learns a song of green rebirth.

Copyright © Jessamyn Duckwall | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle |

And in the sky I see black thunder mad

Like a newborn infant left on rocks
My skin feels tender and my heart is sad
I’d like to creep  inside an empty box

I have turned away my  every clock
Whilst I try to improve how I’m clad
With my a newborn infant  on  grey rocks

The people of this world seem   like lost flocks
Like sheep, they folllow men who’re dumb and mad
I’d like to  hide  inside an empty box

Against my ribs my loud  heart seems  to knock
I gasp for comfort even   from folk bad
Like a newborn infant left on rocks

I feel akin to prey, like the red fox
Which o’er long  moors and meadows  has just fled
I’d like to  hide  inside an  metal box

This sorrow seems to sap my own red blood
And in the sky I see  black thunder  mad
Like a  little infant left on rocks
Without your   heart’s embrace I can’t come back

Copyright © Katherine Bee | Year Posted 2016


Details | Villanelle |

A Baby Cries

A baby cries for reasons quite unclear; 
The weather vane atop the barn spins round. 
And we gaze at the orange moon with fear. 

A comet streaks above but we can't hear, 
Its fiery burn occurs without a sound. 
A baby cries for reasons quite unclear. 

The rocket rises through the atmosphere 
But to the earth are most men ever bound. 
And we gaze at the orange moon with fear. 

The cryptic light of winking stars seems near 
Though speed of light serves only to confound; 
A baby cries for reasons quite unclear. 

On earth a broken heart will cause a tear 
To fall upon the richly dampened ground; 
And we gaze at the orange moon with fear. 

Three hundred sixty-five completes the year 
As love and life continue to astound; 
A baby cries for reasons quite unclear 
And we gaze at the orange moon with fear. 










Copyright © tom mcmurray | Year Posted 2011

Details | Villanelle |

Mr Brown Baby

Mr. Brown Baby
By Valerie Odom
February 14, 2017

Mr. Brown Baby
You either knows too little or too much
The white man still gonna beat you on the daily

While you're still accused of raping that young lady
Everywhere you goes their purses they try to clutch
Mr. Brown Baby

They call you dumb because you was born at Grady 
They call you dumb because you was miseducated and such
The white man still gonna beat you on the daily

It was a sad time for the 80’s
Everywhere the blackman went he was beat but the whiteman was untouched
Mr. Brown Baby

Can’t even go and drive a mercedes
Without you being reported and put in jail and such
The white man still gonna beat him on the daily

Why do they hate you Mr. Brown Baby?
He’s the blackest of the bunch
Mr. Brown Baby
The white man still gonna beat him on the daily

Copyright © Valerie Odom | Year Posted 2017

Details | Villanelle |

The sin a child is born to is not hers


The sin a child is born  to is not hers;
For mother’s body’s sacred  with its grace.
Society  will mar us   with its glares.

Yet ,at a baptism will the priest declare:
Out ye demons,leave this infant’s space.
The sin a child is born  to is not hers


The infant  naturally speaks in tongues of fire.
The Spirit moves eternal in its trace
Society  will mar us with   its glares

The path we learn to walk ‘s already there
The rules  and laws were written with no haste
The sin  a child is born to is not hers

A child born now  is marked by Iraq War
A child born now, in paranoia’s traced.
Society will  mar us with its glares

Oh,look upon the infant’s holy face
Beatific vision is there  traced
The sin a child is born  to is not hers
Society  will  mar us  with   its glares

Copyright © Katherine Bee | Year Posted 2016

Details | Villanelle |

Azure Eyes

With chubby little cheeks and azure eyes 
the baby wanders in and out of sleep
starring up with a look of feigned surprise.

His eyes close no matter how hard he tries
sucking his thumb not uttering a peep
with chubby little cheeks and azure eyes.

He holds my finger like some kind of prize
or a trophy he’s determined to keep
starring up with a look of feigned surprise.

His need for attention soon turns to cries
and breaking into tears he starts to weep
with chubby little cheeks and azure eyes. 

He settles down as soon as mom arrives
lying still with not so much as a beep
starring up with a look of feigned surprise.

Like a devil in an angel's disguise 
he leaves his blankets in a tangled heap.
With chubby little cheeks and azure eyes 
starring up with a look of feigned surprise.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017