Long Infant Poems
Long Infant Poems. Below are the most popular long Infant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Infant poems by poem length and keyword.
Elixir of life
How do you live your life?
Had you say, I live for myself
You are like big baby
Whose baby took to the sea bay
To drink from the long life pot
Whose seaside was it point
To live hundred years a year
Two hundred years two years
Big baby was becoming infant
When he walked, his back faced the firmament
His mouth wanted to kiss the ground
His legs were robust as though rotten wood
Big baby stood facing the long life jar
Told small kid to say at the rear
In respected distance
Not wanted him to have the experience
Of this mysterious and wonderful jar
Also not aware to the big kid
That it had never happened
Infant like him who had twice become newborn
Could not fetch water in the long life muddy pan
Small baby stood by the seaside
Just as he was told
Watching swooping and chirping of seabirds
Sea wave stooped and stood
Measuring it height with small kid
The sea was emitting pleasant cold
Caressing the soul of small kid
And now small kid was in another world
Relishing fondling and kissing of the sea cold:
So big baby was neglected
Like abandoned goal, which however
Would be embraced in the future
Big baby dipped hands in the pot
And then he pulled it out
But his hands were dried just as before
No traced of water
Yet the pot was full of water
He wondered
And again he dipped his hands
More and more and more
But his hands were dried just as before
No traced of water
Yet the pot was full of water
He wondered perhaps his hands
Could not fetch the water, but his rubbery lips
‘I shall dip my head in to this pot
I shall swig the water and empty the pot
I shall live long past Noah
History shall talk of me above Noah:
He had lived one fifty years
Before he started afresh-new youth-hood years
Maybe I shall live long
Long and long.
Perhaps I might not defunct
After emptying this long life pot
My boy shall die while I'm exist
I shall place him beneath soil of gold in zealot’
The rest will be posted latter. Thank you for reading me.
Love's Symphonic Passion
by Odin Roark
Shimmering whispers urge forth,
A beginning seeks release from darkness,
The voicing of struggle proclaims arrival,
Like miniature cymbals of resolute announcement,
The humble cries of emergence
Clash ever so quiet with air and space,
Once portending grace,
Now its melodic genesis.
The matrixes of parent/conductor
Anxiously hum nursery rhymes
Through white enameled side-rails,
Vertical portals to unfettered ears,
Absorbing even when sleeping,
Evolving passion's invitation.
The precious first movements
Grow from those one-finger dissonant phrases,
Sometimes pounded upon the black and white landscape
Where an merging piccolo's infant smile
Finds support by paternal contra bass and maternal cello echoes.
Remembrances of tinkling melodies
Soon enjoin its pure and simple
With conflicted movements of trial and error,
Evolving the inevitable adagio of growing up.
Hence forth
The scherzo's innocence of adolescence
Crescendos into threatening measures,
Where layered tones of choices
present challenge,
chaos,
counterpoint to independence,
or sympatric harmony.
The family of voicing
Develop love's thematic material,
Rhythms,
Keys,
And more complex harmonies,
Creating the free fantasia,
A coalescing of passion's varied workouts.
Its strings worn thin,
Arriving at life's largo movement of peace,
That place of reflective consonance,
The weight of its chambered containment
Rests forth its closing bars,
Housing now but the waning echo of a baby's chorus.
Its shimmering whispers
Float upon one last wave of the baton,
Stirring life's ethereal essence
Into heroic chorus
A higher bonding…
Awaits.
A small heart, princess in pink, infant flawless love,
steals and snuggles, in mortals and Gods soul.
Infant fragile,
kitten softness.
Soft freshness babe, invites a finger's touch, a kiss.
A kiss of sleep that seeps stealing her life.
Nature's bounty drape on its pink casket.
A breath, flutter of wings, the quiet deafening.
A heart broken, the last farewell,
grief unbounded, when will it end.
Infant fragile,
miss its presence.
6/27/2018
Poetry Contest: Fragmented Verse 2. Anger
Sponsored by: Broken Wings- Dear Heart
Did I get dropped out the sky or floated to the surface
Was I sent up in a elevator from the underground
I have never seen pictures of myself as a newborn or infant
No baby stories about baby milestones dislikes or like
Told, my cry sounded as if I had a bell on my tongue
No baby stories from parents; stories started from 18 months old
Around 5y I started visiting with dad mother and grandmother
Another girl was there around same age, she was very mischievous
Frequent visits around 6y with dad grandmother were weird and draining
Dad grandmother laid me down and spoke over me in tongue
Mother of the church is what they called her; witchcraft at its finest
Her and her daughter with church members performed rituals
Something changed; she was me and I was her (energetically)
Didn't understand reasons dad mother kept hiding my hands
I had to sit on my hands when dad grandmother had visitors
Nasty nose bleeds, nightmares and changed behaviors at home
My parents knew what was happening and downplayed it
Mom start labeling me evil; Dad was lost for words
I was a quiet shy non confrontational 5y girl, bullied by peers
Only preferred vegetables, no meat, no violence, no noise
By 9y, a outspoken meat loving bully who scared people
The next time I saw other girl she was sweet, shy, wholesome
Religious darkness is real and I have been targeted my whole life
They ally knew I was a healer, but deemed me as a demon
Paid to curse a beloved child to change the purpose to bring love
I fought those energies off for years, no help or guidance
Presently I am stronger than expected, and I physically fought alone
Spiritually my ancestors helped and I am forever grateful
A lot of perseverance; upright, feet to the ground, head held high.
Only time flickers with reflection,
from a day when the sky smiled,
and the wind kissed the skin of sinners,
as they listened to the leaves softly whisper,
beneath a cross of salvation.
When the soft breath of butterflies,
washed over the rising fragrance of flowers blooming,
as they filled the sky with vibrant colors of motion.
Now freed from the binds of time,
we are forgiven for the darkness in our souls,
by an infant born in a bed of straw.
Under a smiling sky.
How fortunate we are to receive such generosity,
from this child of light.
He came unto this earth to teach us and inflame us
with his holy touch.
He changed the world forever with his timely birth
filling our hearts with faith, he flooded ocean gates
and granted pardons and forgiveness to all who
just believed
An infant born on a bed of straw beneath a smiling sky
so we could celebrate a joyous day, called Christmas Day
A commemoration for a gentle man who saved us all
He was a perfect man who walked this earth
for only a short time ,but in that time
he performed miracles in the name of his Father.
He left behind a legacy that lives until today,
" Love your neighbor as yourself "
He is a reflection of all that is decent, merciful and good.
A reflection of his Father.
In our imperfections, we pray that we may
walk in the way of giving, thanks to him for being born.
An infant born on a bed of straw, under a smiling sky,
born long ago, now smiling down on us.
He gave his life as a sacrifice, so that we may live.
A Christmas Poem by Mystic Rose/ Frederic Parker
That lonely maple tree on the mighty green hill,
still hides my secret letters and beloved quill,
Oh the jubilant friend I'd found on a summer day,
it embraced me with lush branches on heaps of hay.
My hushed fears siphoned by soothing hums of breeze,
forlorn desires weaved into stories of azure seas,
it cocooned my dreams in wisps of green infant leaves,
that sprinkle dew drops when the little robin grieves.
Ambrosial baskets of delicious mangoes that I savor,
it shaded them until you embellished a rosy red flavor,
you slept in my arms as I heard a nervous cuckoo sing,
the maple branches swayed in glee, to love they cling.
Our fingers draped in icy whispers under magenta sky,
at twilight we shivered in the fervent wind to fly,
shooting stars adorned maple leaves on dark nights,
our recluse in golden sequins of blinking silver lights.
It still melts my summer stories on yellowed pages,
leaves marked with your name haven't faded since ages,
tonight I'll dance to rhapsodies of that fiery healing love,
peeping from crevices of leaves to your galaxies above.
June 23, 2020
Summer Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
~Winner: 1st Place
Angry fists pommel a defenseless face;
racial slurs punctuating each black eye.
And as punches start to increase in pace,
a black man collapses; and boots let fly.
I've seen hate.
The needle twitches as you inject death;
while chasing a high, you slip into shock.
And overdosing, you gasp for each breath,
drowning in your vomit while strangers gawk.
I've seen fear.
Staring at the past as it disappears;
having lost yourself, you live on the street.
And a vacant look lingers past the tears,
as you sacrifice pride, and face defeat.
I've seen sad.
While an injured soldier cries out in pain,
a medic responds; undeterred by fear.
And his uniform is a blood-soaked stain;
as he tends to the wound, then drags him clear.
I've seen brave.
Icy currents grip the boy like a vise;
immediately, his mother jumps in.
And when frantic rubs no longer suffice,
she warms him up next to her naked skin.
I've seen love.
An infant is born an innocent dove;
with skin so soft it almost seems to melt.
And triggering unconditional love,
this babe embodies feelings deeply felt.
I've seen hope.
My heart grieves for past warmth, rocking guilt back and forth
Like a cradled infant, deceased, and torn
I wailed inside and expressed what the babies could not,
Pierced so purposefully. . . their blood drizzled lightly upon the streets
Two gray kittens, side by side
One face molded into the warm body of the other
Lethal legacy
Unjust proclamation- a threat to heart sensation
This vessel of mine sunk long ago… and now,
With emotions compacted and learned, I merely nod
Before my eyes had laid upon such tragedy,
I had been suffering a loss I can no longer withhold,
And as it was so near, I see his death over and over, so clear
My best friend, lying still- half in filth, half in glory
My cries of grief, overtones to his excavating spirit
You do not belong here any longer, sweet black angel
Your soft, dreamy eyes, your lovable ears,
Replaced by unappreciated jeers
I hear them in the night as it had happened
Oblivious me, in deep sleep
Dreaming up hopes later shattered
My tears fell upon his black fur,
His keen green eyes now dead and lifeless
Feel the burn, yes feel the burn of loss, I heard him whisper
Because in this very moment, you are changing!!!
How I both cherish and hate this alteration!
How it has transformed a hopeful soul into saturated slivers of sadness
Repressing anger and fear to ensure good became of his innocence
Now it has led me to these two outcasts,
Caught by others in their cold dimensions
As much as I wish someone to suffer for their absence,
Alone, I agonize, again
Crying internally for the persecutors
This world both baffles me and excites me. Today, this world has brought me to my knees in sorrow and humility.
~Dedicated to Spy, my beloved black cat , and to the sweet stray kittens of no name found 2 days later...~
May 2013 - October 18 RIP
Behold the Christ child is born this day,
just as the prophets of old did say.
In a manger on the cozy hay
did his infant Lordship choose to stay.
No cradle by a thousand kings paid
for, would befit his divine highness
whose crown is celestial and priceless,
glowing with gems of regal brightness.
Yet in a manger so low he laid.
Behold the Christ child, God's timeless gift,
who will from sin's merciless bondage lift
men to heights from where they went adrift
from God's intended realm in Eden.
His birth in yuletide our lives sweeten
with lit golden marbles to lighten
dark alleys which were once stress ridden.
THE GRANDMA RAMP
My daughter handed him to me and ran out the door without instructions.
It’s been thirty years since I’ve been this close to a cat-like scream.
The bottles hang down like bats, perky nipples and necks require help.
I play hide n seek with milk, finding pops of boobie juice in deep freeze.
Maternal mind replays ‘do not microwave’ so i run the plastic under water.
The little angel, heaven-sent, gives me no break, not today.
I release the sweetheart to the windup mobile of stars.
Finally, the soother is ready to rock n roll. I gather the infant in my arms.
The sucking sound so familiar. He downs this succulent sustenance
and falls asleep. Unnecessarily I hear a car rolling up the grandma ramp.
11/19/2018