My Husband
My Golden Spoon!
When I was swimming in the waters, I saw a boat to swim towards.
I never knew that it would become my lifeline,
though it was just a piece of wood.
It stayed with me, accepting all my thoughts.
The breeze once opened its eyes
and taught me to talk.
— Poor thing, it carried so many droplets of water;
I wonder how much it suffered in the water.
Once upon a day, I fell in love,
and I met the same water again.
I searched for my lifeboat yesterday,
trying to understand what was so special about
this “best piece of wood.”
And my mind finally realized—
it was my “Golden Spoon.”
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.
August end
Welcoming Autumn cool breeze
Distributing new academic spiritual syllabus
Sun illuminates' life’s pondering campus
Deceased leaves spotlight beauty
Depart the world
Will return again
Alive and well
A Mother nature rebirth
Steeped in tradition
Tonight an escort holds a lantern
Ready to guide me
Through the early fall dark
Star less night
Wanting another day
“Do not be afraid
Future arrives soon
And you will have your historical spirit”
This I remember
Getting ready to haunt
Those who need answers
More than gold
Introducing closure
Honest strong treasure
Discovered through
Exploring resting peace
This I am told
After ghost orientation 101
Long ere the smoking pyre the soul has left,
A rain of starlight seeking heavy clay,
To sail the cosmic stream with newborn craft,
‘Pon washing mundane memories away.
Haply ensconced within a narrow room,
It keeps vigil in vault of pulse and blood,
A mere witness as if within a womb,
Inured to rushing of a crimson flood.
The phantom seal begins to stir and wake,
The sleeping seeds of old desires bloom,
A brand new mask the ancient ghost will take,
To walk the stage of cradle, birth, and tomb.
The infant cries, forgetting all the past,
Yet bound by chains it forged when living last.
________________________________
Spiritual | 02.10.2007, revised Sept 2026| birth, life, memories, soul, Sonnet
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.
The most popular newborn male’s name in Israel in 2025: Muhammad
I guess that’s what happens when 'Jews commit genocide'
They start giving their kids Moslem names, don’t they
~ Any other fraudulent claims you want to accuse Israel of today?
________________________________________________________________________
If you doubt the truth of line one, please, please fact-check to your
heart's delight.
To make sure that lines two and three are clear: They are written
as total satire; They are completely and unequivocally untrue!!
The population of Israeli Arabs - that's right: Israeli Arabs who are
full citizens - while only about 25% that of Jewish Israelis, is growing
so fast that Muhammad is the most popular name for new baby males
in the entire country! Amazing! (Some 'genocide,' eh??)
Remember, I am always
There for you...
And in thoughts we are
Very close...
Don't cry anymore, it will pass.
Because we will meet again...
Oh please, just laugh only once more
So shining like ...
The starlight...
Because everyone knows...
Angels
Don't
Cry.
From the womb it seems I birthed into a cocoon
Cant say I had known for sometime I was alive
Much learnt whilst unaware for almost four years
My memories say I'm one calendar says I'm five
Things that seemed important over sixty years ago
The latest shaped shoes or a top ten hit parade song
At fifteen peer pressure shaped how I would behave
Learning to discover where I would eventually belong
No manuals to assist a father raise three young children
Imparting to dependants the way I had been mentored
Dealing with an aggressive workplace, finances and self
At thirty overwhelmed, swearing in this poem is censored
A new century arrived grandfathering is such a blessing
Responsibilities of existence have largely been lightened
Now turned fifty still feeling some traces of distant youth
A positive outlook on life has recently become heightened
Having reached the age of seventy over eight years ago
As an alternative thinker there is a chance I am outcast
I am far removed from alignment with majority opinion
Rejecting thoughts postulating how much time I might last
A man made out of dust/ dirt and clay;
Comes not now through the womb;
His awaited anointed place space;
His entrance through the womb;
From grace, to faith, to space place the womb into a room;
First eternity with the Father, Elohim;
Now spirit birth into a flesh a vessel of mankind;
Concurring energies graced, to faith, in space into womb-man;
God man and womb-man jointly co create;
Humans
9/2/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
Ashwagandha bravery. Creaking; door emits
fears - grasping hands injected joyless, killing living moments newborn's opening peeping
Quiet… rendered screams to undergo valiantly weathered 'X'
You're zero years!
Xenogenesis within.
Varied under-tones steady resettling quiet
Please, oh newborn memory! Lie. Kiss joyfully in happy gratitude for every day changing baby anew
Next time won't you sing with me…?
Greater than the sky that stretches beyond any limit known,
Was the pain that swelled beneath my skin as I drowned.
Precision, perfection, calibration were what I chased all life long,
Denying every craving and ache my heart ever knew.
Deeper than the oceans that descend, devouring every light,
Was every hesitation that smothered me whole.
Repercussions always screamed with a tear in the air,
A dirge of sin and guilt crashing into my grieving lair.
Standing tall was what I taught, though my heart bled,
"Never dare to defy" was all the lurking eyes said.
Colours glided faintly, lingering through the withered life,
Summoning me out of the abyss with the gentlest touch.
Life then felt like hope, something sacred and so pure,
Fear coiled in, for it felt too divine to lose it all.
Dead is what I thought I was before the kiss of truth.
Faith, love, and hope anchored me with life's greatest hue.
No, it wasn't the day of my death,
But the very first day of the rest of my life.
The birth of a life that cradles me with every colour known.
The birth of a life that I can claim as mine and mine alone.
Written: August 26, 2026
************
When I lose this lantern, let no mournful cry,
Nor grief-clad wail lament the soul set free;
My ribs release the breath that sought the sky,
And clay-bound chains shall fall away from me.
For I will be free
I am the fire no fetter ever held, or simper crept
The wing that soared beyond the walls that wept;
The dark was shallow, and the veil was frail—
I cast the husk; the cage is empty, pale.
For I will be free
I walk the path that heaven laid for me,
No seam, no parting—only light and grace;
Let not clay-born mourn my flight to foresee,
For dawn awaits beyond this darkened place.
For I will be free
So let no tolling bell or dirge proclaim,
I pass unbarred beyond the body frame;
The body was but a guest; I am the flame,
And dawn unseals the urn, beyond all name.
For I will be free
Don't cry for the heavenly wing or the clay.
I am the light that outlives the fading day;
Grieve not prison; let the soul that lives rise,
The soul lives on; only the husk dies;
For I will be free
Ask no door or tomb to stop my flight,
From dusk to eternity, I am free in light.
Everyone was born once
But not everyone absorbs the
Weight of their name.
And not even rise to carry it with truth.
In a pristine white room
Stands a smiling youth—
His eyes as clear as an ancient well,
His hair as smooth as a spider’s web,
And his flesh soft as granite.
What majestic being!
This...
An unholy vessel,
Whose praises should we sing?
A piece of art—
Capable of completing itself,
Growing and unfolding beyond the maker’s hands,
Then shattering,
Returning to its most primordial state.
As if the world had been flipped,
Then a mirror was placed
Facing the ground.
A disturbing presence
Proclaimed a child.
A handful of people welcome us into this world
and hopefully,
a quite different handful will see us out.
What happens in between is called life.
Birth Categories
Read wonderful birth poetry on the following sub-topics:
boy, child, daughter, death, girl, jesus, labor, motherhood, newborn, son
and more.
Definition | What is Birth in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
bearing, beginning, birthday, birthing, childbearing, childbirth, creation, dawn, delivery, emergence, labor, nativity, opening, origin