Long Newborn Poems
Long Newborn Poems. Below are the most popular long Newborn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Newborn poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh dear Muse, help me write this verse for thee
Give me the strength to write, and fulfill my destiny.
The lines and rimes that below will be read,
Come from the mind of a disturbed head.
A poet who will share a captivating tail,
And he hopes on this mission he won’t fail.
The story goes back in space and time: long ago,
In far away kingdom a newborn is about to show.
Little fragile boy showing his face to the world,
At least that how this poor poet’s heard.
Little William was his name of course until he grew,
Than William it became, but still “little” to a few.
As the years passed by William got much smarter
Than any man, and that’s why he left to go farther.
He left his village seeking the final, untainted truth:
“Why are we here, why does every man have a LIFE?”
He searched high and low, but still didn’t find a clue,
To his question. But someone can answer it… but whom?
Trying to figure out the truth he stumbled upon a cave.
Entering he found traces of a speech once home he gave.
Who was the strange admirer? Who’s home hath he found?
He suddenly felt a short breeze and slowly turned around.
He was rendered speechless by the sight he had to face,
It was himself, like in the mirror; he had seen his own face.
Stiff as a board he’d stare at his twin, searching a mismatch
But futile, none was found. “So you’ve made the big catch”
The fellow said, “Are you happy now? Or confused?”
For you see, it was indeed himself, who he had faced.
He, the twin was his soul’s other side, the wise one.
Once he understood, whiteout a breath the twin had gone.
Gone away, leaving William alone, but pondering,
He had noticed a piece of paper with some writing.
It was a speech he gave, a speech very long ago,
About his first true love, about passion and grace.
He understood, now a new challenge he would face.
His mission was to tell the world the secret, hidden
Truth: Love. Love is the answer he had been given.
So simple yet so complex, so easy than again intricate.
Knowing, that no one would accept love, only hate.
Poor William could not cope with the burden so heavy,
So he rested his head, and slept for an entire eternity,
Leaving the people to wonder and continue searching,
Knowing, that they will never experience such a true feeling.
Sad story, but true, oh Muse I tell thee…
William was non other, than poor old me.
(following on figurative heals
sans, l'amour,
i.e.,and that bastard conception
of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant
ting, and Bing Frank.)
Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms
bringing developed fetus
healthily shimmering viz,
quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing
jubilant kickstarter lil bean,
administering capitalone
earthlinked joyful lyft,
natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous
dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling
pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista
xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting
helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking...
as future topnotch venerated Olympian
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny
vaunted expanding zing
baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating
happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped
purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox
to sing and dance,
sans said singular biological
phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents,
or the mommas
and papas genetic
copy wrought grants
who already passed along
to a brood of offspring
gushing with excitement
akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head
treasuring such Kodak moment,
cuz such instance
and subsequent tender
wonderful blessed
Instamatic reverent cherished instants
will zip at greased lightening
via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past
during twilight years,
an eye blink those yesterdays,
when my troubles seemed so far away
and upon being centenarian,
doddering fogie gripping hold,
hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
how quickly of
decades long ex pants
didst elapse, when tendering
to a coliciky, finicky,
inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
wishing infant would grow up already,
now onset of autonomy
Das Agean sea sunned
father or mother
hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
without a word an excel lent
power point demonstration
with near vertical line brevity
of how mortality slants.
Pre-chorus #2: You turned out to be so mean…you were so heartless… (you
make me feel like nothin’…make me feel like someone…somethin’ – your words
pierced me like a pin on the floor)
I’m not haunted by your callous night…don’t pick a fight (with me…we were
innocent like a newborn infant)
Our friendship oath is pure and full of reverence –
Then, all of the sudden, you make my heart thump with bewilderment
Our love was genuine before you discarded it with revilement…we need to seek
repentance
You owe me – pay off your debts now…how I loathe your resentment!
Chorus: Ahhhh….Stop being a tease…
Ahhhh….Being a tease…(my heart broke into two)
Ahhhh….Here’s a wound to mend
Ahhhh….Please, put my mind at ease
Ahhhh….You don’t see me, nearing my end…
Ahhhh….Nearing my end…(you’re left without a clue)
Pre-chorus: I thought your grass was green…I’m hopeless… (Oh funny, I
thought you were a good person…I was there for you through thick and thin –
you do not love me anymore)
I’m through with you...you…tonight…I long for God’s light (to shed on me…we
were in content & we were pleasant)
You turned out to be so mean…you were so heartless… (you make me feel like
nothin’…make me feel like someone…somethin’ – your words pierced me like a
pin on the floor)
I’m not haunted by your callous night…don’t pick a fight (with me…we were
innocent like a newborn infant)
Chorus: Ahhhh….Stop being a tease…
Ahhhh….Being a tease…(my heart broke into two)
Ahhhh….Here’s a wound to mend
Ahhhh….Please, put my mind at ease
Ahhhh….You don’t see me, nearing my end…
Ahhhh….Nearing my end…(you’re left without a clue)
Give me an excuse or a reason
To overcome these waves of emotions
Friends come and go like season to season
Dealing with vile clashing commotions
We landed on a dead end –
falling victim to regret!
I don’t mean to offend…
Bu we must pay up emotional debt
Our friendship oath is pure and full of reverence…we must accept that we all
need help, going through this circumstance – (we met in a odd place out of the
blue)
Then, all of the sudden, you make my heart thump with bewilderment
Our love was genuine before you casted it away with cold-blooded malice and
discontent…we need to seek repentance (I got to really talk some sense into
you)
You owe me – pay off your debts now…how I loathe your resentment!
WHALING SHIP CAPTAIN"S LOVER part 3
Now Jorgie met a new love
He begged to make her wife
First, they’d fetch her small boy
to start a fresh new life.
So East they went to Minot
To find her cousin there
But when they came to his big house
His smile for them was spare.
The cousin was not happy
To relinquish that fine boy
He said his wife would waste away
Without her greatest joy
And Jorgie, solemn, studied them
The woman and the child &
Wept with great compassion
Her broken heart ran wild.
Determined to do justice
Twas no one she could blame
Jorgie hugged the boy good bye
Her soul in raging flame.
She bid the woman love him
And tell him she was aunt
And with her newfound husband, John,
Departed pale and gaunt.
Now John, he was a good man
Who worshiped his new wife
They agreed to keep a secret
About her former life
And so away the years passed
Son came after son
Jorgie had a fresh life
They built a solid home.
Each month she mailed the letters
To the ‘cousin’ in the west
She parceled up the photos
true siblings in their best
But Sadness haunted Jorgie’s eyes
She tried to hide it well
But her husband knew her---
She had him in her spell.
So sad she was and so forlorn
He needed to confide
To someone who could help him
to cheer his cherished bride.
And so he told his sister
His wife had longed to see
From her past her loved ones---
Her own sweet family.
So sister Lena planned a scheme—
For Jorgie wild and free
the gift would be a great surprise
And John he did agree.
They would take the children
Aboard the westbound train
Jump the train at Minot
To see the boy again.
Wait they must til autumn
For Jorgie twas the best
In May would be a newborn babe
Nuzzling at her breast
Then hit the plague of ‘17
Entire towns were dead—
And in their midst was Jorgie--
With her newborn-- cold, in bed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: Jorgie : (pronounced Yor’ gee) was a nickname
Her name: Sena Jorgine Larsen
My father’s mother. The baby named Clara. My was nearly 4 when they died. His father, John Anderson—Jorgie’s husband , never remarried. He lived to be in his 70’s. His sister, my great aunt, Lena Anderson Hildebrandt, told me this story in 1971.
PS THERE IS ANOTHER PART TO THIS IF ANYONE WANTS TO READ IT LET ME KNOW. I DON'T WANT TO BORE ANYONE TO DEATH! vat
I let your eyes to visualise a garden on a loom;
Bluebells and marigolds in sway and lavender in bloom;
And there to play in a luscious green two kittens wrestling;
Up high in chirping swallow's play are feathered friends a-singing.
A figure of a handsome man is settled on a chair;
And by his side a beauty pure strokes lovingly his hair;
The Witch, or so the story plays, is set to work a-stitching;
For everyday she works to lay the groundwork for her witching.
The "Loom of Dunkele" is dark and glistens as if new;
That which it forges is by spelling set to render true;
This vessel handed down through time where Witches are sure wed;
Commutes it powers to the offsprings through that marriage bed.
At 35 she must be bride and to a handsome beau;
For Dunkele demands that beauty seeps through row to row;
The Witch beholden to this pact must honour this or else;
The Dunkele will take her beauty for its very self.
Dunkele demands a beauty in it's natural mould;
The Witch must weave the magic seams without her vêtements;
As pure as a newborn should she display her nakedness;
For Dunkele gave a perfect body not to be redressed:
No blemish, painting, marking, piercing for her skin to bear;
No jewellery should adorn her parts no braids within her hair;
Should she ignore these rulings and would set about to loom;
The magic would reverse all workings never to resume.
Above the loom, portraits in rows, of Witches one and all;
Each face a picture of a beauty unimaginable;
Throughout all time the loom has served and must forever more;
Or else a terrible curse be laid upon each maiden's door:
Indeed, to pander verily to a Dragon's carnal needs;
The Witch must feed on blood and guts and do as Dragon pleads;
Forever trapped in a darkened lair, no view of sun or sea;
The Witch would disappear from sight, no trace or history.
For 20 years this loom she spins as was the bargain made;
And in this time her beauty shone, success and wealth her aid;
Now in an hour the carpet loomed but for a patch to fill;
A slip of hair should she prepare to weave into the mill.
Then once complete the spell to speak releasing her shalom;
To lead her to that wondrous place where there awaits Handsome;
This rite of passage like forebears would guarantee the Witch;
Leaves on the blood line of her ilk a rich continuous stitch.
Cursed With These Black Midnights And That Sinister Call
Past midnight, gloomy sky and red flailing moon begged to fall
A dark figure stared upward chanting curses at my home
No sleep tonight for great evil sought my desperate soul
I that had settled here in Castle Rouge, never again to roam,
was cursed with these black mid-nights and that sinister call
Soon that black soul would invade this sanctuary of my weary mind
utterly shatter yet again my long aching heart's brief rest
Waiting for the anguished moans and nail scratching sounds
I sought courage to survive tonight this demonic test
and before dawn dear magnificent sleep my soul thus find
Moaning and chain rattling echoes arrived at my bedroom door
My thoughts turned to her and why she still cursed me so
Had not I gave her my true love and my cherished all
Only to see her in blood-soaked dress out the door go
Yes, my loves had always wept and demanded too much more
In a bright flash through the bedroom door she flew
Willing moonlight shining upon her long , dagger-like nails
I stepped back, again I yielded to regret and abject fear
odors of rotting meat and stingers in her three tails
Pierced my side as scorching hot pain in my mind grew
Nay, never again would I allow her these great strikes back
And smile of victory her new black heart so dearly sought
For in my hand, was the dagger of my stone cold truth
with the ring of relief my blood had previously bought
Stabbing in deep, dagger stopped her in her evil track
With that anguished and screeching cry she flew away
giving rise to the glory of sunrise and newborn hope
Today I recall - that evil beaming from her cold dead eyes
and her death- the night I hung her with a new rope
For darkness in my burning soul had always held its sway
Past midnight, gloomy sky and flailing red moon begged to fall
A dark figure stared upward chanting curses at my home
No sleep tonight for great evil sought my desperate soul
I that had settled here in Castle Rouge, never again to roam,
was cursed with these black midnights and that sinister call
Robert J. Lindley, 8-15-2016
Written with Poe in mind and based upon his presentation of seeing through dark glass and finding light dimly fading.
Fading with just enough glow to stir man's imagination, seeking spirit and need to solve mysteries in life.
I enter the room breathlessly,
Somehow anticipating that tonight will change everything.
I sit quietly among strangers lost in their own worlds.
Cell phones buzzing, coffee steaming.
We all glance at watches,
Even some that aren't wearing any.
The air is electric as everyone is keenly aware
That tonight has the power to change the world.
I know that my love has not arrived yet,
Although I have never met or talked to him before.
A tired looking woman beckons me from the back room
And robotically I answer her call.
And in another room full of people and chaos,
I immediately see HIM.
He is perfect, though not at all what I expected.
Our eyes lock briefly, I smile and wave.
I'm wishing I had a mirror and had taken the time to "freshen up."
Other women in the room are as obsessed with him as I am.
I grab the barrette from my hair,
And like every ingenue I've ever seen on TV, I shake loose my curls coquettishly.
I think I have caught his eye, but suddenly his entourage rushes him from the room.
My heart slows a bit and I feel the color draining from my face.
Someone is holding my arm, sensing my weakness.
"He'll be back in a minute, why don't you sit down?"
I sit and for the first time, I notice HER.
Glowing, happy, giggling . . . the center of everyone's attention.
And the game just became REAL!
For it is she who stole my last love.
We make small talk, pretending no animosity exists.
Until a door opens, and HE is back.
New clothes, blue to match his eyes,
And I can't keep a little gasp from escaping my lips.
Of course, he flies right into the arms of my nemesis.
I move in, touching his arm, briefly holding his hand.
Even brazenly stroking his dark curls when SHE looks away.
And I see him respond -- glances in my direction, guarded smiles.
I am lost in a world where only he and I exist.
The room and everyone in it disappears and the two of us are floating away.
Without warning, I realize she must have seen our exchange.
And the room and everyone in it comes back into focus.
I look at my nemesis. She looks back at me.
"Would you like to hold him?" she says, seemingly without guile.
I cannot help myself. "YES!" I say, a little too quickly and loudly.
Unselfishly, my daughter-in-law gives him up. At last, my newborn grandson and I can start our love story.
7/14/2015
The Best Year of My Life
By Franklin Price
07/06/2022
I spent the year of sixty-eight in Vietnam to be at war
I wonder as the years are passing, what we there, were fighting for
It wasn't for my marriage. Received “Dear John” on April Fool.
She did not care to wait for me. Someone else was in the pool.
She waited 'til November, before filing for divorce,
To continue her allotment that was spousal then, of course
The days passed by. The nights did too. Then the New Year came along
I caught the Freedom Bird for home, where I, no longer, did belong.
I mustered out in Washington to begin a brand new life
The divorce was finally final. I no longer had a wife
The year was nineteen sixty-nine. My best year had just begun.
Out of all the years, I've lived on earth, it was the best. It was the one
I found a job at KSC. I needed work, and money soon.
In July, I helped make history. We sent a man up to the moon
At the time, I did not know it. I had met my mate for life
She worked at the Center also and was someone else's wife
He was unfaithful, cheated on her, even with a newborn child.
To see this happen to her, drove me crazy, made me wild
Soon they were separated and I offered her my shoulder
Our friendship grew to more than that. My intentions grew much bolder
When their divorce was finally final, she was my lover and my friend.
By November we were married and we would be to the end.
Her child became my daughter. Had not married one but two
I am the father who helped raise her, was the thing for me to do
She has two children of her own. They both make me so proud
The oldest has our first great grand. You can hear me cheer out loud.
I lost my wife in January, this year is twenty twenty-two
Never got to see our great grand son; thinking of that makes me blue
He was born in February. She was watching from above.
She thought so much of family. She was sending down her love.
More than fifty years of happiness were spent on this earth together
Through the good times and the bad times, through the fair and stormy weather
She made my life the happiest, when she said yes, and took my ring
If I could do it all again, I would not change a single thing
For life is what God gives us. I pray to him that you concur.
He will guide me,'til He takes me, And I'll again be seeing her.
Christmas with Christ – Melchoir’s Story
Wondrous symbols and signs appear in the heavens,
heralding that an amazing event is about to happen…
the birth of a royal child in the town of Bethlehem,
one who will transform the world and make it whole again.
Guided by the light of a strange brilliant star,
I and my companions travel by night from afar.
We come to pay homage to this newborn Jewish King,
this Prince of Peace who will save our world from sin.
We wonder, how can this be, when all we see
are such wretched signs of abject poverty?
Joseph, Mary, and Lord Jesus, the little Baby,
sheltered with oxen, sheep, and lamb in a stable.
But we three kings humbly fall on our knees in wonder,
bowing our heads and giving our hearts to this Babe so tender.
Sensing we’re in the midst of a divine, royal presence,
Gaspar, warm brown eyes aglow, gifts Him rare frankincense.
Noble Balthazar, his dark chocolate skin glistening,
presents Him with aromatic, rich myrrh, for anointing;
and I, Melchoir, entranced by this miraculous sight,
bring precious gold to worship Him, this Child of Light.
Holding the Babe in my arms, there're no words to be said;
but as I cuddle Him closely, I’m overcome with intense dread.
For in a vision, I can clearly see Him suffering years ahead;
He’s nailed to a wooden cross, wearing a bloodied crown of red.
Impulsively, I’m tempted to hide Him in my warm cloak of gold,
and help Him escape from a fate that’s been foretold.
While history will see me as only one of Three Wise Men,
none will ever know that I could’ve changed fate right then.
But wisely I realize that it’s not for me to decide
whether this innocent Child shall live or be crucified.
I only know I must not interfere, but leave Him to fulfill
His Messianic destiny, by carrying out God’s divine will.
So while sadly, reluctantly, for the Orient I must depart,
I also leave with happiness and great hope in my heart,
as my vision also revealed, there’s redemption in His blessed birth;
and there'll be good will toward all men and Peace on Earth!
11-22-2015
Colors in the Dark
When I was younger I’d get scared too easily,
my mother was patience pushing back the monsters in the closet with a simple wave of her hand
as i grew my mother didn’t have enough patience to coat my form; her patience and my size were no longer proportionate.
When I hit 5’1 she looked at me eye to eye an unwanted staring contest with the underlying battle of wills
she said find the beauty in the dark
beauty in the dark
beauty in the dark
I didn’t understand what she wanted but the bags under her eyes weighed my chest down
i nodded but i didn't understand, it was a sort of forced nod where my head and brain moved on two separate courses
night//
i laid in bed staring at vague outlines searching for beauty
beauty in the dark
i only found terror in dark corners
hours fall past me like seconds on a clock
the incessant count down to my doom
hours of searching in dark corners
looking for something that wasn’t there,
looking for beauty in the dark
how do I find something
that isn’t there
desperation lead my eyes to the window
wind had cracked open my blinds
she twisted and pulled them as she danced
her cool crisp breeze beckoned me to look up
and there
I found it
the sky is never black
there is always color
tuesday indigo
wednesday hints of pink
thursday violet
colors in the dark
colors in the dark
show tuesday tree’s desperate aching limbs reaching out to join the elusive wind in her dance of flurries
but tree was rooted
stuck
wednesday wind was free
wind was wild
tree imitated
curling her limbs into shapes you had to squint at to find meaning
wind teased twirling through tree’s gnarled branches
thursday clouds cried for tree their tears dropping and drowning earth
“cloud is free” tree screamed “wind is free”
“my roots run deep my branches reach high but I am not free”
I cried for tree
my eyes unintentionally mimicked cloud
drowning myself
Tuesday//
I run outside to hug tree
I break off a branch and take it inside with me
cradling it like a newborn baby
I vowed to gray monday sky I would take it everywhere with me
with me part of tree would be free
night//
there were no screams of tuesday trees nor laughs of wednesday winds
just beauty
and colors in the dark