Best Babyhood Poems
It was the time,
When there was no sign of dawn and dusk
Hot summers and chilled winters gave us new tasks
Heavy storms and rains brought us holidays
In return, we gifted boats of papers and clays
It was the time,
When days were spent in chanting numbers and rhyme
And face was covered with candy grime
We never knew why the orange fireball chased us
But longed to dine with the moon on a cloud bus.
It was the time,
When cycle rides were roller coasters
And one candy could buy a million kisses
Wet summer mud was yummier than cadburies
And our cute talks were considered as juicy as strawberries
Babyhood is so precious and angelic
Don't kill it with a sickle and brick
It's the Spring time in every Jack's life
Let kids dance and jump to the waves of Fife.
Preserve every moment of Childhood
Keep the memories alive in every bark and wood.
A Simple Story
Little child finds upon a heap of rubbish
Favored threadbare rabbit of tawny velveteen
One eye missing
Cloth rubbed to shiny by little hands.
Beloved bunny,
Shopworn keepsake from babyhood,
Languishing in forgotten jungles of junk,
Broken teacups and outgrown sweaters.
Heartbroken child, with faithful love,
Cradles one last time this life companion
To kiss goodbye this forever friend
In a eulogy of tears and turns to leave.
Love works miracles
From the rubbish arises a living bunny
Bulging stuffing and missing eye repaired
Now hugged again in arms of delight.
Golden bunny of dappled coat
Lives in colorful clusters of carrots
Straight radish rows and leafy greens
Planted by the small child’s hands that
Remember…
3-21-23
Contest: A Simple Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Based on the children’s book – The Velveteen Rabbit
A constant companion since way back when,
He's my savior. Amen.
Because my heart he does engross,
I'm in His shadow we're so close.
I've seen His movements in the world;
Seen His works--His wonders unfurled.
I've beheld the magic of August moon,
Smelled rose on summer afternoon.
I've read His ancient word, still true,
I've looked to endless skies, still blue.
Heavenly Father, on bended knee,
I lift my eyes and look to Thee.
Yes, heard His voice whisper in the wood;
Been His child since babyhood.
A love that shines brightly forevermore;
I've heard His knock upon the door.
I've glimpsed His figure in the fog;
We've been engaged in dialogue.
Yes, the minister affirms with a nod,
How amazing is God!
I've participated in the holy rites,
Beheld the stars on Christmas nights,
And seen things grandiose--
I'm in His shadow we're so close.
How far back can you remember? I have glimpses of things from babyhood.
Things like a room, a doll, a funny little girl smiling, mother but how can that
even be, because I was just a baby.
a flowing blue stream
I lay upon a blanket
birds sang in tall trees
I recall the house where we lived beside a river, the many trees, and picking
raspberries with my mother and sister. Father holding me in his arms. Going
for long walks in the forest, but I was just a wee girl.
the forest whispered
in the shadows creatures hid
sweet the dappled sun
I remember the day my sister died, or do I? I was so young that day, and
coming from a family of storytellers that retold the story over and over, soon
it became my memory.
I often relive
the day death took her away
the snow was so nice
____________________________
September 3, 2020
Poetry/Haibun/I Recall, or Do I
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1283-249-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Consists of 3 Haibuns, Haibun with Senryu
Haibun with Haiku, Haibun with Senryu
Written for the contest,Let The Pens Flow - Haibun
sponsor, Jenish Somadas
First Place
My life began as one big blank canvas,
a sweet baby girl loved:
the second child for my parents,
yes, I had an older sister by one year;
Suzanne, already had signs of an adventurer,
while I just gurgled, smiled and made faces.
Babyhood is fleeting,
soon, I was a four year old and walking:
my personality was beginning to blossom,
quiet, shy, loving cats, the garden, and books,
my sister, had no time for all that;
we lost her on a snowy street,
her death left a black mark on the canvas of my life.
My grandma, Helena was our family storyteller,
looking at me she would say, she has an old soul:
grandma colored the canvas of my life with hues lovely,
opening my imagination and a writer was born;
I will never forget the words I spoke at her funeral.
When I write of nature the tone is green with wildflowers bright,
with strokes and swirls of birds soaring and water swirling:
when I write of winter, my very soul opens,
and in sad poems somber colors twirl and mingle;
and my paint drips blood red onto my canvas,
the love poems, I create are full of my love's aqua blue eyes.
I am a butterfly, I am a bird, I am a writer,
each day I add another color, another dimension;
to the canvas of my life that started when I was born,
no telling what the future holds but I know;
it will be beautiful.
Inner self renowned free; owned only by me in the thicket of the woods which is ticket to the
goods. Lovely dew drop, tear drop worries obliterated by the sun. Rings true that I don't
know what I've won but myself-- tiny, big, larger than life- Not! Famous to none; infamous to
one-- maybe! That old tree that never moves but to stalemate then check. Mark it off-- I'm
done! Approval, Approval, Approval! Stamp me authentically me. Nature calls no one as we
call it often. Rings true, I believe. Natural self looks like Apollo and Daphne in the minds eye
of keen perception. Distorted fragments of soapstone in my artist's mind recalls and carves
and older self. Rewind now, back to babyhood; not yet out of the woods of my sheltered life.
Sheltered life, comfortable; Sheltered strife, uncomfortable; Shelters galore, displaced
woman. Never to become morbidly serious about reality-- I'm an Aspen now in a darkened
mood detached adhered to my silverish, thirtyish leaves, leaving one silver-gray split hair on
the memory of the past which is still not true to self-- now in present life is hopeful and not
reproachful!
I cradled his head in my arms and sang him a lullaby,
cradling the m o m e n t,
cherishing every second more,
then, when it was time . . .
I placed him in his f o r e v e r coffin bed.
An odd bed for a little baby boy,
his little head lay on a b l u e as the sky pillow,
he wore his new blue booties,
an ivory christening gown,
and beside him a b l u e teddy bear,
someone had placed there.
As I stood in the funeral home,
I felt so a l o n e and hallow,
although many people surrounded me,
I was l o s t in thoughts . . .
thinking of that empty baby room at home,
there would be no babyhood,
where, I would pamper, coddle and feed him,
no childhood fun, no youth or adulthood,
no ripe old a g e for this boy.
No days or years to cherish him,
no beginning, just this sad end,
so, on the day of his funeral . . .
I sang him a l u l l a b y to last forever,
and I handed him over to the Lord,
I whispered, Lord, cradle my boy in your arms,
until in your time, I can once more.
The cars followed the hearse in a long line,
through the ornate cemetery gate,
and down the w i n d i n g roads with BENDING trees,
even the birds in the cemetery,
stopped their s o n g . . .
until at last, we reached the place of tears,
standing there cradled by family l o v e ,
all that could be heard, drifting,
was the lullaby, I sang . . .
_____________________
June 29, 2016
Free Verse(lost love)
Submitted to the contest, Your Best Free Verse Love Poem,
sponsor, John Hamilton
Seventh Place
_______________________
Submitted to the contest, Free Verse About Love,
sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
_______________________
Submitted to the contest, Free Verse,
sponsor, ?
NA
You won't remember that you slept
All curled up on my chest;
Or how you smiled on seeing me,
Which made me feel the best.
The hours that I held you,
Fed you, burped you, changed your clothes
Will surely be forgotten
As they should be, I suppose.
Your babyhood will disappear
Before I've had my fill
And you'll remember none of it
But my sweet boy, I will.
Smokey was a funny cat,
Filled with fun and love;
Adventurous as all cats are,
And Master of the Hunt.
He stalked the house in search of that,
Which posed some kind of threat.
A bug, a mouse, a ball of yarn,
No pest escaped the net,
That he had formed around our home.
He took responsibility,
To protect us fro it all,
Because we were his family.
From babyhood he was my kin.
He always slept with me.
We played for hours in the yard,
Beneath the old Oak tree.
We climbed my swing set, climbed the tree,
Played in my sand box too.
Imagine my surprise to find,
He used it for a loo.
Kitty cat and little girl,
Fought jungle wars, climbed trees;
And then we sailed the seven seas,
Buccaneers were we.
We'd hide behind the sofa,
The curtains or in the hall,
And wait in ambush for our prey.
We really had a ball.
My sister's boyfriend happened by,
One night as we were hiding.
I yelled "Chaarge!" and Smokey leaped.
The boy knocked off the siding,
On the bookcase in the hall,
As Smokey climbed his leg,
And we were sent to bed that night,
T'hout supper though I begged.
Incarcerated pirates we,
The game continued on.
We'd wait until they were asleep,
Then eat till it was gone.
Then we'd escape into the night,
With valuables they cherished.
We'd be away by early light,
Leaving the guard embarrassed.
Though you conceived me against your scheduled time
my tiny parts felt so secure inside your love vessel
I then invoked for your painstaking care
grateful that you chose to keep me---
---until my hospital birth exposure.
Though you left me to be cared by your grand mom
my babyhood was settled midst struggling milestones
I then invoked for your constant visits
yet you still decided to act out what seemed best---
--- that was not to see me anymore.
Though you let me grope amidst identity crisis
my genes could not hide your physical influence
I then invoked for your possible appearance
despite your subtle approval for my orphanage placement---
--- making me bereft of family-tree details.
Though you remain a mystery I can’t fathom
my personhood praises God for His love I’m experiencing
I then invoke that He would grant you peace
along forgiveness Christ assures to those who trust in Him ---
--- such is my faith while admitting this… I long to meet you.
I now invoke YOU, Sovereign Almighty for possible mother-son reunion:
please regard my supplication* with Your favour…
I invoke you, Mommy, in the name of the Lord:
remember me, your son, yearning for your hugs ---
--- ready to embrace you dearly.
*Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
October 26, 2021
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol 26 - Invocation" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 11/2/2021.
Pups, imps, joeys, wiggling tailed marsupials, hunting in parties of five.
Deadly facial cancer has killed lots of us, it’s a wonder I am still alive.
I screech when I eat, carrion, my utmost favorite food, road kill.
My aggression insured me at babyhood alive I would be still.
There were fifty in my litter, but only four teats so we scrappers had to fight.
Growling and viciously, snarling at each other, slapping away nice ones in the night.
Our mother was grabbed by a caveman devil who dragged her off by the neck.
I was incensed, and promptly chased after them, thinking “what the heck?”
Some of my siblings were frightened out of the old hollow log,
not many decided to stay.
I was not one of them. I showed my teeth,
and my aggressors promptly ran away.
Wombats, wallabies, opossums and other animals on this island of mine.
Steer clear of my hollow log, knowing I will
snap them up and eat them in no time.
Smokey was a funny cat.
You could see him think.
His place of choice to do this,
Was table or kitchen sink.
He'd loll about for hours,
In seemingly deep thought,
Musing o'er life's mysteries,
Or the mouse he never caught.
He looked so wise just sitting there,
Mysterious and ancient,
Never bothering anyone,
Complacent and so patient.
The only thing he didn't like,
Was being combed and groomed.
If you picked up his comb and brush,
He'd quickly leave the room.
I swear sometimes he read our minds,
Knew what we were about.
He understood our every word,
Of that there was no doubt.
He was my friend from babyhood.
We were babes together.
He taught me climbing, stealth and patience.
Our bond could not be severed.
He taught me to look nonchalant,
And even innocent,
If by chance I should get caught,
Whene'er house rules were bent.
Whenever Mom and Dad were cross,
He taught me how to blend,
Into the background or become,
So cute they had to grin.
My memories of him are fond.
I thought he'd live forever.
He taught me fun and love and loyalty.
He won't die, not ever.
Steps ***
Remember standing barefoot
In a stream or lake or ocean as the current of water
ran cool and fast over the ankles?
That liquid, which made our planet
a home for life, beckoning us and so delightfully.
Think of walking in night, without
lights, becoming self-contained,
losing external references, seeking the moon
or some neighbor’s window, alight still...while
glancing quickly down to squint and know if
the next step will continue on the pavement.
There is good reason to remember
walking barefoot in cool, thick mud —
luscious scrunching the toes in
that earth’s batter!
There is meaning in the memory of
tortured stepping barefoot over a
length of dry, sun-burning sand...so
instantly blistering, so evil in its lack
of relief, at least until escaping its distance.
Think of the first challenging, trudging steps
in a knee-high snowfall...like the first steps
of turning to a belief in God and so much easier
with others, then reaching a route that has been plowed.
Think of journeys of the mind, walking
in times and on the streets we’ve never before been
or want to imagine a return to...lively, but yet
non-existent wanderings, much like those
we walk in sleeping dreams.
We cannot recall those very first
steps we took, thrusting us out of
babyhood, taken by a natural calling
when we are too young for any conscious intent,
having only an entirely physical desire to move...
over there...
set within a wordless desire to rise,
innately curious to discover!
Yesterday I watched baby Emmie scrambling
in her stroller. Within, she sensed there must be
some other way to subtract sitting, to move
through the room.... Compulsion gripped
her desire to rise, to step, even run...her legs
kicking non-stop ready to launch...
Only recently emerging from paralysis,
I can sympathize with Emmie’s chair-stuck
scrambling frustration. It is
the human wish to set off in motion,
off on explorations.
——————————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 5/10/21
I see a beam of light coming from the little hole of the broken window
I sit alongside the window & stretch my hand to unlatch it
It creaks when I struggle to open it
It is my grand maa’s partially illuminated & restful room within the serene valleys
There is an old grain storage wooden box & old oil lamp flickers near the window
This room holds so many memories of her husband
She is consort of a brave army man
There is an old black & white picture hung on the damp wall of her room
It is a beautiful picture of this couple
Every evening she sits on the veranda wall for some calm and fresh zephyr
Wind howls, it travels through all the valleys, peaks and hills to meet her
A calm gush of wind tenderly touches her body
I can see her placid, contented face
She has intense & impassioned blue eyes holding many deep thoughts
A flash of remembrance passes between me and my babyhood memories.
I was 10 when I last saw her; she looked young but not any longer
I could never understand why she chooses this room when she has many other
She again gets inside the room to light the lamp
And I see the flickering lantern alongside the casement once again
That’s how she passes her endmost days & nights.
Leaving heavenly throne to reach-out mankind, the Messiah bore the status of condescension: His birth in the Bethlehem manger brought to Earth’s calendar a divine milestone, while glorious angelic choir and awed shepherds welcomed His babyhood.
offering love’s best
incarnation triumphant
eternal life reigns
Servant-leadership --- Christ exemplified as He ministered with mercy’s optimized best: healing the sick, feeding the multitudes, quickening the dead, forgiving the repentant, pronouncing beatitudes, drawing humanity nigh to the Almighty.
utmost caring shown
compassion indeed at work
blissful selflessness
Falsely accused with blasphemy unpardonable, betrayed by intimate companions, indicted to pay sins’ penalty, Jesus bore the cross to Calvary, giving up the ghost to reconcile sinners to the holy Creator: freeing those who trust Him from iniquities’ condemnation, assuring them heaven’s security, and granting peace so blissful.
grace and justice met
redemption truly fulfilled
blest crucifixion
Entombed, verily secured; yet after three days of burial, the Saviour rose amidst guarding soldiers manifesting His omnipotence: mighty wonder proving His expertise in impossibilities, miraculous act only the Sovereign can do and marvelous magnificence against vanity of temporal existence.
power over grave
resurrection smiting death
hope of believers
Heeded toward the Father above, the Lord entrusted the Great commission-fruition to His church: to build lives, spread His love, exalt His name through the Holy Spirit’s guidance, gearing, guarding, and girding while advancing His kingdom*.
pursuits accomplished
ascension so jubilant
to come again soon
*Matthew 28:19-20 Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.
September 2, 2020
1st place, "Let the Pens Flow - Haibun" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jenish Somadas; judged on 9/16/2020.
This is featured in the book, PS: It's Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world. Paperback – November 27, 2020 by Arczis (Author), PoetrySoup (Author)