Long Nappies Poems
Long Nappies Poems. Below are the most popular long Nappies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nappies poems by poem length and keyword.
MEMORIES OF MOTHERHOOD
Childbirth isn’t called labour for nothing, it is damned hard work but so worthwhile when the baby is finally placed in your arms. I can still recall the sound of my newborn son crying and taking his very first breath, it was a moment I will never ever forget.
Not long after my son was delivered he was placed into my waiting arms and I was able to cuddle him for the first time. I stroked his downy blonde hair and checked his fingers and toes; when I opened his white shawl it was very evident he was a little boy!
As a first time mum I was not prepared for the contents of his nappies! It became very evident when he needed changing as the smell was appalling! I found it somewhat confusing that white breast milk would produce such bright yellow poop but it was perfectly normal!
I remember when he was being weaned, his favourite food was baby rice, it looked like wallpaper paste but he would wolf down a bowl of it for breakfast. I tasted a tiny bit, it was so bland and actually tasted as bad as it looked, but thankfully he loved it
My son is now grown up and has flown the nest, but I can’t wait to see him when he comes home on a flying visit next month!
My Five Senses Contest
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
7/26/18
Night,
Out on my porch.
The orange glow from the street lights
Flicker through the deep blue hue.
Looking down, I catch myself fiddling, winding the ties belonging to the recycled plastic shopping bag in my clutch.
I wonder why street lights are orange.
Are they supposed to mimic the ‘slow down to stop’ orange traffic light?
I’m dawdling.
Must hurry. Deposit this bag and its contents in the rubbish bin under the orange light.
“You dropped your bag”.
Zone in fast, orange to green, so to speak.
Focusing, I see someone in the orange glow.
We both stand looking down at the soiled nappies exposed by a tear,
In the bag.
“How old”? A jovial jest.
Confident that they're wondering about the age of the nappy wearer.
“24” I reply.
“Aww 24 months”? They assume.
“No, 24 years”.
Red, means stop then.
Form:
What's Daddy getting you for Christmas, Sammy asked his mummy
Something very special, Mummy said, then held her tummy
You see, she whispered in his ear, there'll soon be nappies smelly
He's given me a baby and it's right here in my belly
But Mummy, Sammy blurted, there's something I don't get
Your present's in your tummy now, but Santa's not been yet
This is the kind of gift, she said, that Santa cannot bring
So Dad and me together made the baby in the spring
So Sammy went to find his dad and asked him if it's true
They made the baby so that it would come when Santa's due
His daddy said it's true, in fact the baby won't get here
Until it is delivered just a week before new year
Sammy thought about the baby inside mummy's tummy
I'm sorry Dad, but you should know about your gift for mummy
You will not need to wrap it up, or find a box to fit
She liked the baby so much that she's gone and eaten it!
Unexpectedly
She became a part of us
A one year old
After many years,
Pitter patter sounds was heard
And nappies changed
She is a young lady now
Started working already
Our little princess
My sister’s gift from above
a blessing to us.
*My sister passed away
when my niece was only
one year old, she is turning
nineteen next month
still a joy to us all*
I’s got six kids
Six mongrel dogs
Living in one bed broken down shack
From six whisky drinkin’ hogs
And a v8, v8 Cadillac parked out back
Yes I have six children
Nine months apart
Gots to buy six dozen nappies
From the second had counter at Wallmart
Once for experience
And I did it twice
Because it was nice
I saw my new woman
Walking down the road
She was walkin funny
The way she strolled
I thought it was through all my lovin’
But she had a bun in the oven
Once for experience
And I did it thrice
Because twice was nice
Now I have seven kids
Seven dog gone mongrels
Living in one bed broken down shack
From seven whisky drinkin’ hogs
And a v8, Cadillac with a box caravan parked out back
The newborn cries, the old man sighs,
The same faint light is in their eyes.
The journey ends where it began,
The tiny babe, the fading man.
The baby starts in nappies, new,
A fragile life with much to do.
The elder closes out the years,
In nappies as the ending nears.
The toddler takes a shaky stride,
With parents watching right beside.
The elder struggles just to stand,
And reaches for a helping hand.
The infant babbles, learning speech,
To grasp the words just out of reach.
The senior tries to mouth a word,
But leaves the sentence lost, unheard.
The helpless baby needs our grace,
To lift them in a warm embrace.
The helpless elder needs that care,
When heavy years are hard to bear.
The cradle meets the rocking chair.
Children are little marvels
They conquer things big and small
They have no inhibitions
No cares or worries at all.
From the moment they start moving
When they roll from front to back
You know it won't be long
Before they launch their first attack.
All the things that are needed
Like a bowl, a spoon, a bib
Nappies, clothes and bum cream
A buggy and a crib.
When they get up on their feet
And toddle to your side
Their hands will be in everything
With a grin a mile wide.
Children are little marvels
That we wouldn't be without
They bring us smiles and sunshine
And love with no room for doubt.
Form:
Valkyrians
We live in a time when high education
among the middle and higher middle class
get work in a notable occupation
many are women who find a profession
often within the state apparatus
One can say that the female sex has been
set free, but for what?
There was a time when it was vital to have
children, our very existence depended
on women's childbearing capacity by doing
what nature had intended
With educated women in work position
childbearing is not a must; hence, fewer
and fewer children are born, we may
see shrinking population as a prize for
the thought after, freedom from choirs
from the hassle of the nappies
Women at the top of their profession
nearing middle age, realize the hunger
they had was the need to procreate to
have children, alas, far too late for many
Childbearing must be a priority for mothers
ought to be extolled for the effort to
keep the world going around and around
Sadly, we have lost sight of what is important
Coocoo doodle I do,
Not every day I coo,
What Mum can do, I can –
My skin needs a sun tan.
My hair with homemade curls,
My makeup shines like pearls.
I'm just a baby, see,
Acting adult, maybe.
Bring napkins for wee-wee,
Ensure fun flows for free.
Tie me nappies for poo.
And bandage my boo-boo.
Baby guys will whistle,
Love – their own epistle.
While I sway my bum-bum,
Left to right like my mum.
Coocoo doodle I do,
Not every day I coo,
What Mum can do, I can –
My skin needs a sun tan.
No high-heeled shoes to wear,
I'd still swagger with flair.
I'm a baby with style,
Can't stop this cheeky smile.
The Termination
Hallo Ann, let me tell you about your mother,
she was younger than I and a dancer
She got a job dancing at a club in Madrid
alas, she was pregnant, that would not do
a doctor, was paid well and your life ended
before you had dreams
I never saw your mother again, her name
was Maria, and she was beautiful
I never forgot you, thought of you as a girl
hence called you Ann.
I nursed you through childhood illnesses
changed your nappies and loved you.
Remember the first day at school, you
wouldn't let go of my hands until I promised
to sit outside and wait for you
when you were 12. it dawned on you that your dad
was a sad man who often drank too much
you sternly told him to stop this silly behavior
and he did
I wanted you to go to university, become a doctor
dressed in white with a stethoscope around
around your neck or a lawyer defending the poor
My only education was the school of life
Had you wanted to become a hairdresser or
a nanny, I would not love you less
Dear Ann, my love for you is endless
If I live to be very old, don't let me forget you
When I hoist anchor and start my voyage
on the sea of forever, hold my hands, and let
I gently go