Short Stroller Poems

Child in a stroller,
His mother young and joyful,
Yet dad has gone away....

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Terrorist carnage
Home returning survivors-
An empty stroller.
        Abdelwaheb Dhaou....

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Be stroller and wise
through the nature and learning
steady thought wins all

-July 19, 2018 Chattogram...

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everyday they come our way
they pass by
it catch your eye
some have  folder
not mabe
MOTHER BAY AND STROLLER...

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here there
everywhere
cold rain or sunshine
they walk by signs
some or in lines
with sister and brothers
its 
STROLLER 
BABY AND MOTHER...

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its what it take
to lift the weight
and walk alone
as you go on on
 this is not mabe
if you have  baby
its easy on the shoulder
to have a
BABY STROLLER...

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down by the sea
was heavenly
like no others
me my lover 
we stroller alone
as when on
we kiss a nd carry own
you can bet I got 
we  hd
HARBLIGHT SEXOR a...

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I was often sad 
alone as a child
the stroller with no face
a forgotten object
an obligation
my father was no better
my mother is dead now
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY
finally
...

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Baby in a STROLLER - A Haiku

wintertime covered
beautiful a, Baby sleeps
into the stroller

2/15/23
Written words© by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©...

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on a warm day
they go to play
make start
to the park
they love they swing
and other park things
some mother have three
here what it  be
no carry on shoulder
ITS 
mother kids and stroller...

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this is not a dream
theyer or a team
babies  born
in world that's torn
they grow and mother know
get them around
up and down they or bolder
this is not mabe
MOTHER BABIES AND STROLLER...

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Stroller and Broiler and a Molar

Had been boiling eggs in a broiler,
And took son for ride in a stroller;
Wheels went round,
On the ground,
While he had grown another molar.

Jim Horn...

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Vivian’s too young to row,
so I make her stroller go.
Pushing hard, we’re up the hills,
racing down in giggled thrills.
Sunshine splashing on her face:
seems I’m in the perfect place.
Sure, I long to grab the oars,
but this is what a granddad’s for....

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  A baseball glove lies on its back
  in a trunk of items
  once fresh and youthful
  now discarded for
  love and marriage
  perhaps a stroller
  whose blue-eyed
  blue-bootied
  occupant will
  himself!
  soon be
  the proud owner
  of his first glove
...

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Danny likes apples
Danny likes pears
But Danny does not like 
To sit in his high-chair

Danny likes to wear overalls
He likes his shirt and socks too
But Danny won’t stay still long enough
To let me put on his shoes

Danny likes to go shopping
Danny likes the grocery store
Danny likes to ride in the shopping cart
But in his stroller, Danny won’t go!...

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Naught to say I shan't disparage
A cherub in its stroller
Laugh at married horse-drawn carriage: 
Denounce a Holy-Roller!

Point my fingers in their direction,
And have a hearty chuckle!
In Truth it is my own reflection-
One which leaves me puzzled...

No one should suffer ridicule,
By the words bled from my tongue...
But in the end, I am the Fool
Who should never make the fun!...

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Pee Wee is my little sister
A nickname given to her
When she was little 
She would pee on me

I would play a game with her
Where this little piggy went to the market
And went wee, wee, wee
Thus her nick name was born

I would push her in her stroller
Pretended it was a race car
Then my mother would say
It’s time to change Pee Wee

Oh Pee Wee, you mean the world to me...

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This stroller that I have pushed
with my babies tucked inside,
Has now become vacant
their mother causing us to divide.

The seasons have come and gone
and for reasons to her are known.
My stroller still remains empty
and my children have now grown.

This stroller that I speak of
is what others call their heart
And it shall continue to remain empty
as long as we're apart....

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In passing on this bright spring morn,
I smiled, I nodded, said “Hello”:
The mom glimpsed over, grinned my way,
Still wheeled her stroller through warm sun
While, back, I glanced and reminisced
On younger days that filled my life,
On years of kids, the toil and fret;
I glanced once more, resumed my walk,
My wife beside me, hand in mine—
As one, we strolled through fair spring air,
And relished many springs ahead....

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Calmest Grandma Sheep and her happy Grand -Lamb
Took a walk without a buggy, cart, stroller or pram.
Said Grandma Sheep, I can hold you tight this way.
It made both of them happy most of the day.

Grandma Sheep knew Grand-Lamb would grow up soon.
She loved her way past the mountains, stars and the moon.
Might be the last time she would let Grandma hold her in her arms.
So, she held Grand-Lamb tight, and smiled at all of her charms....

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No, I don’t wave a wand,
but it opens silently
ahead of me.
No push, 
no pull,
no “open sesame”,
no tiny whoosh
as the door swings wide.
With arms full,
I can carry in packages,
no struggle, 
no dropping the eggs.

I can push in
a stroller
or wheelchair
or walker
I can use a cane,
no hands required.
No magic,
just an automatic door –
no impediment
to my passage.
I am welcomed
inside with
open arms.
I don’t have
to do a thing....

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Soon spring wildflowers will appear
Red Larkspur in the meadow near,
And sweet honeysuckle blooming
With birch twigs ready for brooming
All to the stroller bring good cheer.

Strolling through the meadow I find
A peace enhanced with beauty rare,
The perfect place to say a prayer*
Where one may come to clear the mind,
And leave one’s worries far behind.

written March 1, 2022
(prayer is a one-syllable word
where I come from)...

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bubble gurgle bubble gurgle bubble bubble bubble bubble
he is as relaxed as a puppy, tiny bubbles on his mouth
worn out from today’s stroller ride; April air does this to him.
my husband and I take turns peeking at him, to see if he is breathing.

he gurgles and bubbles, unconcerned, dreaming baby dreams.
four months old, and we cannot remember life without him
have we ever been more in love in our lives?
Just one other time, when our daughter was a baby....

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Paws paddlewheel a roundness.
Mouth wide in the sluice, a sodden rudder
pushes sideways braiding a foaming wake.
Pond and dog orbit an ocular sky,
watery eyes memo the turning scene:
a bobbing hat floats beneath clouds,
a heron fishing over its stooping shadow,
a nodding woman upon a snorting horse,
a stroller, a mother,
an old man shaped like a walking stick.
The delirious dog bites a wave and sneezes,
while to-and-fro, a bobbing ball seductively,
turns his world....

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A baby in a stroller pointed,
Giggling, at me.
I waved and then he laughed some more
And grinned delightedly.

I also had the sweetest kisses
Blown my way from far.
My brother’s year-old grandson
Raised the FaceTime cuteness bar.

The urge to thus communicate
Begins when very young,
With smiles the currency employed,
Since words are yet unsung.

As children grow and fear kicks in,
That need to reach out slows,
Thus limiting connections
Only to the ones each knows....

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