THE BABY WHO CRIED WAY TOO LOUD
There was a baby in Kochi town,
In a cradle of wood, lying down,
Who wailed “oh shi!” with endless might
, And won the medal for loudest cry!
His voice rang out both far and near,
Through Gujarat streets, Jaipur clear,
It echoed in Delhi’s bustling bazaar,
Like thunder booming from afar.
He cried and cried, the people prayed,
For silence, peace, a calm cascade.
His mother stuffed her ears with care,
Cotton buds to save her hearing there.
Crowds arrived from far and wide,
To see the baby’s sonic tide.
Windows cracked, bangles broke,
As if the earth itself had spoke!
James the tourist came to see,
His ears bled from the baby’s plea.
Aunt poured oil to soothe the pain,
But still the cries began again.
At last, on day six, came the cat,
Catter the clever, catty cat.
She leapt inside the cradle bed,
And massaged the baby’s neck instead.
The baby paused, began to purr,
It loved the gentle paws on fur.
And after a decade, peace was found,
returned to the village ground.
In the beginning, there was hope,
Then something shifted in me,
Now, all I am left with are tears,
Why didn't God see my aching tears?
How can I still, for the best, hope?
How can this pain be good for me?
Something ingrained believes in me,
But, deep inside, flow broken tears,
I have leftover faith and hope,
I hope someday this sad me will be replaced with joyful tears.
(24.09.2026)
(Not for contest)
I dreamt of little hands and little feet
But the dream dissipated before it ever came true
Now all I have left are leftovers of life
Snapped and snatched before becoming a blessing
How can I not cry when my core is crushed?
Devastated "when the soul-stars dream and die"
This "foliage of farewell" might be the final fracture
I try to stitch back my shattered, battered heart
And face tomorrow with tattered trust
Somewhere, somehow soft hope's still alive. . .
New skin rubbed all over with baby powder buff.
The scent of an infant, stinky or welcoming.
An exercise of limbs, to pull over or slide on suit.
There are onesies and ruffly dresses, to suit.
A darling curl with brush, freshening cloths to face buff.
In comes the waiting grandmas and aunts, welcoming.
Balloons and banners, mom and dad welcoming.
Now, entwines around her finger; the pur -suit.
The newborn, in initial phase, a bottle buff.
Darling arrived in the buff, welcoming world in her birthday suit.
Son i truly hope you know
How much you mean to me
I know at times I make it difficult
But somehow I hope you see
I don't mean to be so tough on you
For me emotions are hard to show
And I'm doing the best I can
To guide you as you grow
Life isn't an easy journey
We don't always know what to do
As you bear witness to my struggles
Know I want better for you
As my baby boy grows into a man
This is all I will ask of you
Have a heart gentler than mine
And take pride in every thing you do
And know that not a day goes by
That you don't fill my heart with joy
I pray you know how much I love you
And you will always be my baby boy
Romance To The Feeble-Minded
A sweetheart loved by every troop,
From distant lands, outside his group.
A decade’s bond, a quiet joy,
She bore his love a first-born boy.
Then fortune turned; he took the throne,
And wore a crown of steel and stone.
The state caught fire, the borders bled,
A butcher born, where mercy fled.
He turned his guns on her own race,
And wiped her memory from his face.
Severed the ties, forgot the child,
As war ran bloodthirsty and wild.
Ten years he ruled in blind deceit,
While terror marched upon the street.
An army wild he couldn't tame,
Three years of mayhem in his name.
His eldest son, a stranger grown
Unrecognized, ignored, unknown.
For eight and forty years of dread,
The general hid from son, his coward’s head.
No vision held, no focus clear,
A feeble mind led on by fear.
Too late the waking conscience stings;
Too late the courage power brings.
Unstable man, blind or visionless
Conscience- dead, tasteless and emotionless
Led his army into unnecessary blood bath
Even in his nineties, continued lying as from the birth
Eyes of Time, do you get tired
in the heavens high above
as you see the world play out
with all its hate and love?
Yes, I am the Eyes of Time,
and of love, I never tire.
There are many ways to love,
from kindness to desire.
I watch with sweet pleasure
when a young man takes a wife,
and soon there is a baby,
and I thrill at newborn life.
Yet, when I watch men fight wars,
and see them clash and die,
(both sides, virtuous and right)
these Eyes of Time must cry.
My Sweet Girl
Giddy baby, giggles and dimples,
hardly ever cried
Except when time for Mommy’s awaking,
With patient eyes she spied.
Humming with gurgling baby sounds,
Hair wispy softly curled,
Watching down the hall to catch me,
By precious, my sweet girl.
Quietly at play all the while,
two fingers in her mouth,
By chance If hearing my door open,
Only then she cried aloud.
If I could skip across the hall,
Bathroom just across from my room,
It must be done without a sound
I would quickly zoom.
But if she saw me my sweet girl,
would loudly make it known
Cries interpreted “Aha! I see you!
Your cover has now been blown!”
Appears alone under the mad moonlight.
Moves melodically with inept inertia
Faceless flora, shapeless sapiens
Kissing clandestine by the elderly elk.
Hands hurried with precise passion
Cutting curfew is non-negotiable.
Infant inception in dark destinies.
Though eminently computable,
born in silicon fog,
it's a baby that's not beautiful,
a disloyal, faithless dog.
It's a welcome to an empty room,
a monster's sightless eye,
a bottle of cheap perfume -
the poetry of AI.
Almost a child herself, how will she cope?
Until now everything had labels, expiry dates,
do’s and don’ts, helpful hints, arrow pointing ‘UP’.
But this one was delivered not even marked ‘FRAGILE’.
What will she do? She’ll have to start by giving it a name.
She heard the first heartbeat, a tiny, steady rhythm, A sudden, heavy weight, but a future coming with it. At fourteen, the world feels loud, sharp, and quick to judge, Yet standing in the doctor's room, she refuses to budge.
Scared of every step ahead, of how her world will shift, Everything is changing now, a sudden, permanent drift. Let them whisper, let them talk, they don't walk in her shoes, She holds her ground, protects her own, with everything to lose.
Her life is rearranging, the quiet room grows still, A mother’s love is waking up, a strong and steady will. "It’s mine," she says into the noise, clear above the fear, A promise made in silence to the beat she came to hear.
They may come and go says Samael, so sayeth the wiccan prince who some say too ushers in hell, but hell is reserved for the iniquitous and the evil, where tortured until they are ash, is the only white steeple, the comely few who verily detest when mothball mouths are not cottonmouth bassets the silly strummed up wheat, which pervades the day when the heat is nigh on noon complete, the southern seer, grampy to some, has black boys and girls this Samael sung.
I translated this from German to English. Which unfortunately makes it less elegant.
To share my love,
nothing more painful can I imagine,
than to tear my heart in two.
To be bound to someone eternally,
but never fully belong to him
There is neither yes nor no,
just endless desire.
To be betrayed, in the
most cruel way, is not
with the body, but
with the heart.
Chaos of emotions, Love and
Suffering have never been closer to
each other.
How will this End, no
solution in sight
With pain and tears?
I don't know
The obligation, to have to make a decision
weighs heavily on my Shoulders
New Born
By Frank Daub
Putting up the wash – Again
one wooden clothes pin gripped
tightly
in her lips. On toe-tips; blonde hair wind-whipped
dangling in her eyes.
The sun an apricot surprise
on the back of her legs.
All busy hanging clothes
and
Watching in the yard to see the baby lulling in the doze
Of May.
My perennial loving Guard.
Baby Categories
Read wonderful baby poetry on the following sub-topics:
beautiful, boy, funny, girl, i love you, loss of, new, nursery rhyme, premature, unborn
and more.
Definition | What is Baby in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
babe, bambino, cherish, cherub, child, cutie pie, for her, for him, infant, kid, little angel, little darling, little one, my boo, newborn, toddler, youngster