Long Crib Poems
Long Crib Poems. Below are the most popular long Crib by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crib poems by poem length and keyword.
The woman hadn’t slept for days.
Blood-curdling screams
Crawling from under the door,
Lurking down the stairs,
Seeping into her eardrums,
Turning her stomach
At the mere thought
Of her baby in distress.
She made her way
To the nursery.
Just as the tips of her fingers
Grasped the cold shock
Of the doorknob,
A silence fell.
The woman opened the door.
A draft of icy air
Sending shivers through her skin,
Only to be swallowed
By the frozen emptiness
The nursery had wrapped around her.
The silence lingered
As she approached the crib,
Only to be broken
By the creaking of the mobile.
She reached
For her bundle of joy,
Laying peacefully in its slumber,
But her arms sank
As the blanket collapsed;
She cradled her sorrows instead.
Your will is what will now, let me be free ...
'Tis be darker times than before, more childless,
This is crazy! Topsy turvey they'd be,
matters of convenience act the mindless,
It is the right of every woman, or,
Is it the right of every woman, so,
Some folks fighting for life inside the core,
others say the fight is more blow-by-blow.
The written trek crossed Egypt and the world,
Rome, Greece, Mesopotamia, and more,
rice patties and bamboo trails that were pearled,
procedures taught too numerous the score.
Be crib death, world plagues, poor, starving, and this,
quest be, will we exist ... 'Tis hit or miss.
~~ Bestill ... lil' maybe!
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
It takes ten legs squeaking in sneakers
And eight rubber wheels heavily humming
On the checkered sparkling linoleum floor
To move a boy with a tumor
From one hospital floor to the next
For emergency tests
One nurse one doctor a technician leading the way
Mom and dad
Trailing the speeding parade with teddy bears and balloons
And faces full of frowns surrounding a white crib
And a mobile I.V. tower
Thrashing like an octopus fished from water
Whisk
Kicking down the hallways
Onlookers flattened against the walls
Get out of the way
And as all this passes by
From the corner of my eye
I see a creature on a gurney
Unattended
Parked to the side
Fossil of old woman with her head resting
On a mop of white hair
Everywhere
Her skeleton face framed like a crazed witch
No longer Queen dancing in the ballrooms
Toasting friends writing checks signing up her volunteers
Here she is
Abandoned
Vacuuming the stale air through her purple pursed lips
Eyes locked on my boy
Make way
Make way.
The worst nadir in my young years
that brings me still to shed sad tears;
while I was pregnant- months to wait-
September, nineteen fifty-eight.
My new friend's child was six weeks old,
and for a while, left me to hold
and watch her for an hour or two
while she ran errands that were due.
I fed and rocked her sound to sleep;
with love, my arms around her keep.
When Mom returned, she quickly went;
no signs of heartache- felt or sent.
Come morning, we woke from a scream-
and thought perhaps, Mom had a dream!
But no! Such horror took our breath!
Her baby passed- classed as crib death!
I could not comfort my dear friend;
her miracle came to an end.
Just like myself, so filled with mirth-
she'd waited for the thrill of birth.
Now, sixty-five years since that day-
this hurt within won't go away.
Though from that base, we all did part-
still feel my friend's pain in my heart.
One puts it between thumb and finger
hold it firmly to strike with ink nib
then ink flows smoothly along
putting on paper all your mind since crib
Whatever thoughts come through you
you’ve got your weapon in your hand
ready to pounce spread around
proving yourself be main brand
Literature is so vast subject on whole
your personal pen seems drop in ocean
especially when you consider all rest
but your contribution can be special potion
This pen seems little in this digital age
so many ways there be to communicate
but it still has it’s uses many by far
being many forces needed penetrate
So make sure give great value to your pen
use it stirring up that gift that’s within you
bring upon this world some poetic gem
pen full of ink prove so much be true
(This is a remake of my first poem on ps entitled 'The Pen', hopefully it shows progress in my literal pen since I first wrote this piece.)
I have little of this world's pelf,
But there is one thing I pride in myself.
I have a family that I deeply treasure.
My love for them is beyond all measure!
Some folks take pride in material goods,
And live in upscale neighborhoods.
I am happy to live a simple life,
With a dear, caring and loving wife!
Other folks take pride to show their fancy abode.
The mortgage I'm quite sure is a terrible load!
I take more pride showing a crib so simple,
Where our slumbering babes display cute dimple!
To further add to my treasure account,
I have grandkids 'til I've almost lost count!
Even great grandkids, can you believe,
Adding more love for the family to cleave!
I would cede all treasure on this earth,
To have family gathered about my hearth,
Exchanging "I love yous" and fond embraces,
And seeing sweet smiles spread upon their faces!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Seconds, minutes, days, weeks, years
Now I just cry happy tears
Since the day that I found out
What miracles are all about
A helpless baby small and frail
Tiny lungs not being able
To help breath life into
A preemie who's precious and new
Always staying by your side
Watching tubes keep you alive
Sending prayers up every night
Never giving up the fight
That soon you'll be coming home
Breathing on your very own
Doctors, nurses, families too
Forms a group support for you
New crib, toys and teddy bears
Fill a room with no one there
Sadness turned to joy one day
When I heard the doctor say
No more tubes for little one
Months of treatment finally done
Now your home where you belong
Being healthy--- staying strong
Playing, crawling, having laughs
Safe and loved from a bad past
Once more I'm summoned:
Out of the soft grays of almost-sleep,
Pulled by your cries through the still murk
Of our house, resting quiet as stone,
The hour unknown, but one of the dead ones
Verging on the dawn.
I enter your tiny room resolved on threats,
If that's what it'll take, this time.
- But there you stand trembling, pink fingers grasping the crib,
So sadeyed it makes my heart ache
With the love of you.
So once again I lift you, hold you tight
As you sob into my shoulder apologetically.
You've no word for the Terrors that assault you by night;
Can't name them to me, that I might banish them
With whatever Father-Magic I possess.
So I give consolation as best I may,
In soothing murmmers, enfolding arms,
Before I lay you back down, now calmed for a time
Then shuffle on back to await the next round.
My head swims with its want of sleep, I'm too tired now
To feel even traces of acceptable anger
At all these nightly robberies of my rest.
Besides, I've no word for my formless fears either,
No teddies to post for guard;
But a warm and loving wife lies in wait
To comfort me.
I am taking care of my 11-month-old grandson. I love every-minute and he's stolen my heart. I've seen the growth within him with lots of love and affection he gets. He is crawling and into everything. I never realized how many things needed for this small infant.
Car seat or they won't let you leave the hospital without one
As many diapers as you think you'll need
Diaper bag that handles everything you need on the go
Baby changing table, diaper change as quick as you can they get pretty squirmy
Wipes for their sensitive skin
Diaper rash ointment relieves baby's painful rash
Grocery store plastic bags, fantastic for disposing all those stinky diapers
Baby bath tub, there is such a sweet smell of a freshly bathed baby
No tears baby soap
Washcloths
Baby bath towels hooded or non-hooded
Sleepers with buttons and snaps, they are so much easier to put on
Swaddle or baby blankets, wrapped snug arms from wiggling free
Nail clippers, he loves scratching the back of my arms and face
Baby brush
Baby comb
Thermometer
Baby clothes, they'll grow out of it so fast
Socks
Shoes
Bottles
Formula or milk for hungry
Bottle brush
Baby teething ring to relieve sore gums
Baby binkis it tends to calm them when they are not feeding
Baby dishes
Baby spoon
Variety of baby food and cereal
Juices
Highchair
Bibs
A rocking chair to rock and kiss them good night.
Bassinet or Crib
Crib sheets
Toys, age appropriate for learning
Baby walker, fantastic to keep them busy for a little while
Stroller, a must when you walk or shop
Baby proof your whole house, once they start crawling, they are into everything
Camera, time goes so fast you'll want to remember it all.
7/29/2019
A dream worth living for
Born in the image of an unspoiled soul
Newborn stretches it's small limbs
Hungers, cries, crawls, and walks
A new peaceful dawn, a new world unfurled
5/14/2019
Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
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