Long Lifechild Poems
Long Lifechild Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifechild by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifechild poems by poem length and keyword.
Travelling gives one different perceptions
A diversity in our hearts, a sense of reality
Grown men don’t cry, not now, not ever
Maybe then
A child cries, hungry, detached, wondering why
A mother sees with her heart, faith
Do we feel yet, do we see? Now? Ever?
Maybe then
Wino sits reflecting on life, a different time
Someone’s child, wrong road, lost
One more day, another bottle
Maybe then
Young girl cries, poor choices,
A child with child, will she ever learn
Turn your head, close your eyes
Maybe then
Walk away, unfeeling, untouched
Stop at church, their souls forgotten
Can’t feel the fire? Judgement day?
Maybe then.
It was an old brown bottle with a cork stuck in top
That I saw half buried in the sand
On a remote stretch of beach near my Pacific Northwest home
That I dug out with a stick and my hand.
I pulled out the cork and removed a note from inside
With handwriting that was old and faded;
A letter that was written over fifty years ago
Nineteen Fifty Eight on the top it was dated.
“I am writing this note and casting it out to sea
For no one in particular but mostly for me.
I am with child but with no husband by my side;
For months it has grown in me and every night I have cried.
My family sent me here to Washington state,
I’ve ruined their reputation so this is my fate.
I will do my best to raise my child right,
But it’s a future I face with terror and fright.
Should you find this bottle and read my little tale
Please say a prayer for me;
I could use your support so that I don’t fail
From the other side of the sea.”
As it turns out the bottle didn’t travel far,
In fact it was caste from this very shore.
Fifty two years later I recognize the handwriting -
I’ve seen it so many times before.
It’s the same handwriting on notes I took to school
And on every birthday card I saved;
It’s the same handwriting from the woman I called Mother
And last year buried in a grave.
I never knew the story of how I came to be
And, frankly, never thought to ask;
I was just a bastard child of a wonderful mother
Whose story I just found in this flask.
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
Beyond the lines are the mines
Where soldiers lie beneath the battle sky
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
Yonder lies the farm stead
Where the housewife prays on her rosary beads
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
Over the brook hides a crook
With his many treasures of a good measure
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
Beneath the garden bench
Sits a beggar in liquor drenched
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
In the city there is famine and hunger
Men have died a good number
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
In the forest trail
One can hear a lover’s wail
Sleep child sleep
The night is dark and deep
Above the sky line, where the twain meet
Sings an Angel of Gods love sweet