Best Surrogate Poems
Baby Clara will never touch the big hand of Laura, her mother
As she was born four months after her mother’s death.
Before she died, her friend Tara accepted to act as surrogate mother.
Laura and her hubby Tom dreaming to hear the baby’s breath.
To a surrogate mother Tara who was her mother’s best friend
It was like to keep one hand for self and second for this family,
And that big hand of Tara touched and held Clara’s small hand.
*Keeping a part of Laura alive on this earth for me selfishly*
A reporter, for her future wrote an open letter after the baby’s birth,
“You’re barely a month old now, too young to read this letter
But one day someone will show you this letter to know forth
How confluence of helping hands brought her in the world, later”
Living with Tara’s family for a few days, Tom ready to act as dad,
Clara now playing with his hands and fingers in winter’s clad.
+++
December 5, 2014
Form: Rhyme
Dr.Ram Mehta
Just spoke with my surrogate daughter
The sweetest young treasure I've ever known
A beautiful flower alone in a field
Her beauty is beyond words
Both her visual countenance and her inner beauty
Shine forth with such brilliance
To light up my life, to show me goodness
A smile that exhibits an inner warmth
With a glow that melts my heart
There are many friends and acquaintances
That have entered and exited my life
But none so sweet and charming
I am so proud of my darling surrogate daughter
© Jack Ellison 2015
Surrogate Mother
Baby Clara will never touch the big hand of Laura, her mother
As she was born four months after her mother’s death.
Before she died, her friend accepted to act as surrogate mother
Laura and her hubby Tom dreaming to hear the baby’s breath.
To a surrogate mother Tara who was her mother’s best friend
It was like to keep one hand for self and second for this family,
And that big hand of Tara touched and held Clara’s small hand
*Keeping a part of Laura alive on this earth for me selfishly*
A reporter, for her future wrote an open letter after the baby’s birth,
“You’re barely a month old now, too young to read this letter
But one day someone will show you this letter to know forth
How confluence of helping hands brought her in the world, later”
Living with Tara’s family for a few days, Tom ready to act as dad,
Clara now playing with his hands and fingers in winter’s clad.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
**This a true story that took place last month only
I have chosen the Visual #2
Date: 21-12-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Fourth Place win
Contest: With These Hands by nette onclaud
So your great gran
was a suffragette
She fought for the right for women to vote
She thought that would make a woman equal,
put them on the same footing as a man
Looking back, that was misguided thinking
by woman like your great gran
Your great gran
and her suffragette sisters
didn't count on their own gender betraying them
To use their hard fought freedoms perversely
Frivolously,
and in the end, irresponsibly
Now you're using your right to vote
to remove the stigma of using dope
Using your freedoms to enhance your breasts,
to mutilate yourself
To smoke cigarettes,
sadly giving yourself cancerous flat chests
Surrogate suffragette,
carrying another woman's baby
The same woman who fought for the right
to have you as her breeding pet
You got your great gran
rolling in her grave I bet
Surrogate suffragette,
my how you're fighting so hard to suppress
all those good freedoms women worked too hard to get
Free to get equal pay,
free to keep your job
should a pregnancy comes your way
Free to smash the glass ceiling,
free to abolish gender hire double dealing
Surrogate suffragette,
you say you're a thoroughly modern woman
But your great gran wouldn't recognize you,
if you were walking down the street
and she saw you coming
All my eggs lay in one basket,
Mother bound, the scattered children
To be or not in warm oasis
Walled by barren womb.
Given freely, should they ask it,
Twinkles in the eyes of dreamers,
Shot at life in open spaces
Or in utero tomb.
How will they look, I stoop to wonder,
Any facet of my make up,
Will primal genes remain of me
In any boy or girl?
Whatever birth signs they lie under,
Astrology and stardust memoirs,
As they find their destiny
Upon this blessed world.
All my dreams were broken china,
Cast in voids of emptiness
And languishing in disarray,
In misery and strife.
Now reconstructed even finer,
Blooming with a glaze and glister,
To the future lights the way,
The gift I give is life...
The person I was,
Left me like dead weight.
I lie awake.
Beside someone I’ll just replace.
I wanted to forget their name;
I wanted to just let them take.
She keeps me close enough to push away;
I love and hate her exactly the same.
I lie on her bathroom floor and want to leave,
Want them to keep her away from me.
But I can’t help but love her hands in my hair,
The things she says when she knows I’m not there,
The way she turns to watch me stare.
They say it’s better on the other side;
That the hurt will trade off in time,
That things make sense if you let them die.
That you can
Live
Without the lie.
Live without
And say goodbye.
Such is your 'No' phobia, you repeatedly bite off more than you can chew
Stuck as a broken record on yes, you agree to things you don't want to do
sign up for things you hate
Such is your 'No' phobia, you vote no to the life you want
and vote yes to the life you dread
foregoing your power to others..... bearing their crosses
Uncustomised for surrogacey....feathering their nests while yours
lies in tatters
Such is your 'No' phobia, you think it's a swear word
left you lawless and no boundaries - gained you nothing
but users, takers and abusers
A yesaholic in need of a 12 step program
'yes', yourself made titanic
sinking rapidly, but for a 911 sea rescue to change course
Poem as Surrogate
by Odin Roark
Streaming messenger
With expression unchecked
Imagined ink yet to dry
The page fearful of touch
Find the eyes
Beneath which awaits the meaning
For
This frame that lives also as picture
One's fleeting first-person impulse
A captured inner focus shared
Clings tenaciously
To the world's lenity
Every poet's temporary forever
Viola can be a lesson too
And every society needs
Rivers runs through meandering
Drone is an effect of craftsmanship too
And I watch you two go.
From my window, it is a registered time to leave
And I watch you two, giggling and boasting too.
As, this world is sometimes nothing other than a surrogate mom.
Dreams of an ancient city
Collapsed in darkest light
Seen by those who witness
The beauty in our sight
The cold ambient welcome
From dissolution’s heir
Fixated on our silence
As this city starts to stare
We hold to all our reason
We focus all our will
But danger seeps toward us
Holding our hearts still
Draining all my patience
Seperating friends
I wake into this nightmare
In a horror that won’t end
A flicker of remembrance
A daydream I forget
In the corner of perception
I see the darkness set
In my dreams this city greets me
I scream until it fades
And in wakefulness I’m poisoned
What did the city say?
An ancient creature stalks me
Threatening my worth
This monster keeps me silent
In a city we call Earth
Harlots on Harleys
Barbies on broomsticks
Midgets on widgets
Buddha on Broadway
Leaders in leotards
Players in playpens
Twinkies in Slinkies
Christ in Cabaret
Temptation of teddies
Tyranny of toupees
Ecstasy of ecstasy
Yahoo of Yahweh
Widows with whiskey
Yoda with yen
Saviors with favors
Zeros with Zen
Saw A Surrogate
Saw a surrogate
Mother who was meek and mild;
Trump is not my child.
Jim Horn
she was giving birth, a surrogate mother, to a rich childless couple. she had been instructed to not look at the baby, did and relented, she had given birth
a wonderful newborn how could she give it away?
sensible people told her it was for the best, the child would get a good education, she the mother could not give her.
Under pressure by the righteous, she gave the baby away
but she will forever regret her decision.
Katie Kay’s time was mostly spent with us.
She had six older sisters and brothers.
She was my daughter’s best friend with no fuss.
Family, I became one of her mothers.
Katie had a magical angel’s voice.
We learned this during a holiday play.
Our family sat in front as was our choice.
Katie’s family sat not too far away.
Curtains parted and Katie Kay was there.
Opened her mouth and had me mesmerized.
Her own family did not appear to care.
Her beautiful voice brought tears to my eyes.
I encouraged her to come more often.
Wishing her family I could help soften.
Written 12-31-2018 Contest: Beautiful Sadness
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Surrogate
I want to properly cover you;
Stand before you in Father’s truths;
One day I will write the,
perfect song for you;
And the author Jehovah Jireh;
Together Elohim and I;
Will co-write beautiful sonnet;
~
I write just for you;
So you can sing them to me,
in the presence of Jubilee;
This too I write co written to you;
Be this I do write written verse
of live to you;
5/3/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025