In the quiet corners of my mind-
A fuzzy friend named Cubby still resides.
Years ago, when I was three,
He tumbled into my life, so warm and free.
His legs once jiggled, full of beads,
Now gently limp, shaped by years and needs.
Stitches faded, fur rubbed thin,
Yet love, not fabric, holds him in.
Psychology whispers: attachment, security,
But Cubby is more than theory-he's memory's purity.
He's comfort on restless nights,
A silent listener to childhood's frights.
One summer day, a suitcase closed-
Cubby missing, my heart exposed.
Tears spilled all the way back home,
I felt so lost, so all alone.
But surprise! My brother's gentle tease:
He'd tucked Cubby away, aimed to please.
The ache of loss became relief so sweet-
Reunion turning sorrow to heartbeat.
Why do we long for what can't speak?
Why do soft things make us weak?
Perhaps in Cubby, I see a part
Of something gentle in my heart.
He's more than cotton, thread, and fur-
He's childhood's echo, comforter.
Psychology says it's just a phase,
But Cubby's love, it never decays.
Angry voices from the kitchen
Trading bitter accusations,
The sound of a palm hitting face,
Endless hateful exclamations.
I held you tight against my chest,
You felt the pain I tried to hide,
My tears that soaked your small brown head
Have left some stains now they have dried.
When there was none to cling on to,
I held on to your stubby hands,
As I--to drown the guilt and shame--
I drifted off to distant lands.
Somehow though I was young and frail,
Afraid, alone, and not so wise
I found some comfort and some strength
When I looked in your button eyes.
In that dark corner long ago
When sun, moon, stars all lost their shine
It was so cold but you gave warmth,
Your knitted body pressed with mine.
You were there when the dark
crept loud through the door,
when my tears made small rivers
that stained to your core.
You never once left me,
you never once frowned,
you just held my silence
till sleep came around.
Your fur is all matted,
your seams pulled apart,
but I know every thread
is stitched into my heart.
Others see fabric,
old stuffing, worn eyes
but they don’t see the love
that your silence implies.
I’ve told you my secrets,
the ones I can’t say,
and you guard them so tightly
they won’t slip away.
You’re my courage, my anchor,
my shield, my safe place,
the first thing I reach for
when life feels unsafe.
One day they will tell me,
“You’re older—move on.”
But you’ll never be gone, Bear,
you’ll never be gone.
Even if I outgrow you,
and tuck you away,
you’ll live in the child
who still needs you each day.
So I’ll whisper a promise
to your threadbare old ear:
wherever I wander,
I’ll keep you near.
For you’re more than soft fabric,
more than my toy
you’re the keeper of childhood,
my comfort, my joy
Sheila lives in more than one world, traveling with delight
Yesterday she was in the Orient, flying a gorgeous Japanese kite
Today she traveled down the Amazon, petting black pumas on her way
An avid reader, Sheila journeys a new world, each and every day
Every book she opens is a potential notch off her bucket list.
Today a faerie castle popped out in a lovely lavender mist.
Sheila learns more in her chair than most travelers know to do.
She has been around the world many times, maybe twenty-two.
There are no more saviors, only shadows dancing in the mist,
The rivers of memory no longer flow gently, but disappear into the abyss.
Myths that soothed the mundane have faded, leaving only silence,
Only waiting remains, an echo that never ends.
The voice repeats like a refrain of lost time,
The short breath hides between two silences.
The world does not end with divine revelations or dreams,
But with stumbling steps, absurd replies, and wanderings.
In this vast void, a new, fragile ethic is born,
To endure the empty time, to laugh in the face of cold ruins.
To speak even when words are lost in echoes,
To move forward, even if every step brings you down.
“Try again, fail again, but fail better,”
Is the minimum dignity in a world of shadows and dreams.
The only heroism left to us in the face of nothingness,
Is to rise from our falls, to reinvent ourselves from the ashes.
More than a soft toy,
Is a childhood friend of mine,
He's been here for ten years,
Maybe even eleven,
Why do I feel such connection,
Towards you?
You've been in most of my memories,
Grown beside me,
Is that the reason why?
When i sang a song for the first time,
Or when you consoled me in the darkest nights,
Is it because, i shared my everything with you,
Even my childhood and heart?
Oh my dear lovely jaguar,
I still remember when I hugged you while sleeping,
On the day I got you when I was five,
I just want you to know,
I still do this now.
You're my snuggling partner,
My first friend,
And my whole childhood,
My dear friend.
Shape of the mouths
Silence of the footsteps
Harmony of the tears
Firmness of the handshakes
Emptiness of the buffet
Declare:
Were they in love or in need.
Your fur is worn thin now,
patches where love pressed too hard,
but to me you were never just a toy -
you were the voice of courage
when the dark grew too loud.
I held you like a secret shield,
breathing into your sewed ear
the worries I dared not share with my mother.
You guarded them in silence,
never speaking a word
but somehow - I always slept easier.
In daylight you became a friend
sailing ships across blankets,
chasing clouds across the plaster sky,
celebrating every victory
in make-believe wars you alone could prove
Even now,
you linger on my shelf,
a gentle witness that love
is stitched to last
beyond the years.
My teddy bear is antique
He has lived a long life
and is a bit worn
Despite its appearance
there is never any doubt
on who owns him
I got it from my grandmother
when I was born
The cradle of nostalgia
unforgettable memories
He has been with me all my life
and is my best friend
The teddy bear is made of soft
and lovely fabric
that feels wonderful to hug and cuddle
My cuddly teddy bear has been
absolutely invaluable through thick and thin
It is my emotional anchor
when anxiety or sad thoughts appear
A soft toy ? - ... significantly much more
My nephew had a grey Mousie,
When he was a small boy.
He took it everywhere with him,
His precious mouse soft toy.
If Pete became upset would cry,
I want my Mousie now.
And with his thumb in his mouth,
With Mousie settled down.
This Mousie was a soft grey toy,
Given to nephew Pete.
When he was just a babe in arms,
No other could compete.
Pete loved his Mousie very much,
But due to wear and tear.
Mousie began to disappear,
But Pete he did not care.
And over years poor Mousie lost
His stuffing and was flat.
Yet Pete still carried it around,
A scrap of this and that.
Until the only piece of him,
Was just a little ear.
But to young Pete his Mousie was
His comfort, loved so dear.
Now Pete’s a man, but can recall,
When he was just a boy.
His favourite toy was Mousie,
That gave him so much joy.
for-More Than A Soft Toy Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
there once was a child from Adelaide,
who had a teddy called Marmalade.
taking each other by the hand,
they roamed imaginations land:
there, they never turned scared or afraid.
this world they only had each other,
no mother, father or big brother.
on a tandem they would ride,
or they`d walk side by side;
in this world for two, and no other.
they fought a fire breathing dragon,
and rode in an old cowboys wagon.
played with a stegosaurus,
hand fed a brontosaurus;
then fought another fiery dragon.
they took a rocket ship to mars,
and flew all around shining stars.
met a Martian green,
who was kind, not mean;
so took him, in their big space car.
adventures must finally end,
when the sleep fairy calls you friend.
she will take you by the hand,
to enter into her land;
then you`ll say, a happy amen.
--------------------
#Adelaide is a city in Australia
May we be blessed to pray for love…
whether it comes directly from our heart
or guided by a God from up above…
for never in our lifetime
as a country
as a people
has there been a greater need for love.
As a child, I lined up my soft toys,
making of them all a big parade.
My mother tells me this.
I was too young to recall it now,
but I know inside my heart
I have a tender spot for animals.
I was drawn to cuddly ones
stuffed with bliss and fluff.
After I turned five,
my memories became more lucid.
I vividly recall a teddy bear named Pinky Winky.
He was a typical toy, but one thing was distinctive.
In one of his ears he had a bell,
so everywhere I went with him,
my sweet Pinky Winky would jingle.
One day when I was maybe eight,
Pinky Winky fell into the loo.
I was filled with anguish when I learned
my mother had tossed him to the trash.
Why couldn’t she have given him a wash?
I wept and wept for my beloved bear.
A pink substitute my mother bought for me,
but that one had no bell; I rarely played with it.
Pinky Winky’s demise corresponded with
the end of my beliefs in Santa Claus
and the tooth fairy, and it was a time
when I left behind much of my naivety.
It’s doubtful no other soft toy could have replaced
the death of my childhood innocence.
I sit, legs crossed, typing away
Doing homework, my hair uncombed
Listening to songs I don’t love but don’t hate
And I stare out the window and wonder,
Is there something more than this?
And my fingers type away
In a never-ending game
It’s raining. I feel nothing
Writing bad poems in the dark, and I wonder,
Is there more to me than this?
Procrastination, adrenaline, headphones,
Cell phones, whiteboards, deodorant,
Romance, hardback books, college, drama,
Movies, concerts, lectures, hormones,
And I wonder,
Is there more to youth than this?
My thoughts are scattered, my eyes unfocused
My brain stretched in five directions
And I don’t know who to be
Because we’re pebbles in a muddy stream
And in a world of distractions, 8 billion voices ask,
Is there more to life than this?
I'm still not clear on how you
came to me, but since
I can remember,
you've always been here.
My clothes were too big for you,
but you didn't care,
and even though you had no life,
I felt that when
I was with you, my soul vibrated.
With you, I escaped from my ordinary world
to live adventures in your extraordinary world.
With you, everything was different;
I didn't feel alone, and even though
you didn't say a word,
I could talk to you for hours.
There were countless nights
that I no longer spent in solitude,
and although I had no friends,
you counted for a thousand more.
The years went by, and I developed,
and my love for you evolved;
in any of my plans, you were
the first one I told,
and in my most disturbing nightmares,
you were the first who comforted me.
And before going to bed
I always looked for you Because
if one day you were missing
from my bed my soul
in agony cried for you.
You are more than a doll,
you are my best friend,
that guardian angel that
God sent me to be with me.
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