Swaddling Poems | Examples

SOLILOQUY

Silence pierced through the thick blanket
Of his thoughts, heretofore plagued
By a quaff of exhaled tobacco,
Spiralling and somersaulting in the air,
Like a fierce missile
Sent on a sinister mission,
Before mercilessly, ricocheting
Against the backdrop of his unassuming ceiling

There he stood
Imagining the gigantic impact
Of a tiny veil of vapor
As it burst forth from his nostrils 
In a single file, before spreading it's renegade black wings,
Intimidatingly traversing every corner of the room;
He googled as the vapor ascended in a frenzy,
Like a gush of morning Dew,
Swaddling the orbit,
Before being subdued by a battalion of torrential rain,
Descending from the sky defiantly;
To proclaim the Cacophony and preponderance 
Of the generic nature of life.

Angel's Voice

As the angel spoke of God’s Son,
Telling Mary what love has done,
Her heart must have pulsed with insight
As this child shines His gentle light.

An angel soothed Mary’s betrothed
Soon, their sweet baby would be swathed
In swaddling cloth, this silent night
As this child shines His gentle light

Angels reveal the birth of peace,
With joy that will always increase,
So love came to make all things right,
As this child shines His gentle light

This truth told by hearts who believe,
Shows us when Mary did conceive
This is love that brings the blind sight
As this child shines His gentle light.

As the angel’s voice sings of love
There is hope promised from above
Love came, our story to rewrite
As this child shines His gentle light

Silent Night

It was late at night, and 
everything was dead quiet.
Only in the unruly city 
Did people create a riot.

On the side, straw was scattered; 
A baby pika crawled in.
His stomach rumbled; 
He was on a forced diet.

All around was silence, 
But he hid in some straw.
Two shivering people crawled in. 
The baby pika looked in awe.

Still, the night was silent. 
As the woman lay down.
She emptied her things, 
A swaddling cloth and a gown.

Soon, she was to give birth. 
The baby pika groaned in despair.
The babe was born,
The cow shed was filled with celestial light.

Heavenly music filled the manger, 
Angels flew above in adoration.
Hail, the Saviour, was born 
For everyone of any nation.

Even the baby pika felt elated,
And wondered what he should do.
As shepherds came to adore, 
The baby pika just joined the queue.

My Darling Dachshund

A dauntless dachshund was my darling dog.
He was charmed to chase the cavorting frog.
He always ran and romped with great agility ,
For sniffing and smelling mice, he had a special ability.

He was rock black in shade and was very bold.
He stayed loyal and lively and never grew old.
His swaddling gait and swiveling move,
Brought much joy. From life, all boredom he did remove.

Safeguarded and shielded our home with a surveilling eye.
Lazily loitered with us under the lulling evening sky.
His sparkling starry eyes shone with joyful delight.
He sought snuggles and cuddles as if they were his right.

Sad, one day, our darling dachshund for ever departed.
Dropping his doggy duties, from us, he silently parted.
The memory of the magical moments he gave, merrily stays.
A faithful friend who gave us funny and festive days!

Taxman

In the land that I was born
there is a man who takes from the sun,
he takes from the moon, from the earth's womb,
he takes from the sweat on your brow
and the bread from your mouth.

He calls himself the Taxman,
the collector of duties,
he hardly builds any roads
nor bring bread to your table,
but takes from your hunger,
and your thirst,
and your pain.

He taxes the laughter of children,
he taxes the weeping of mothers,
he taxes on buried,
and the newborn laced in swaddling clothes.

What has he given in return?
Silence, iron bars,
and the rattling sound of chains
under the weight of yokes unseen
that we are all forced to wear.

And so I ask, O Tax Collector,
under what rock have you hidden the sun?
Where has the harvest of our labors gone?
What have you done for the people
that toil in open fields
and sing songs of forgotten hope?

Raindrops Swaddling Images

Sunshine rousing cheers echo the day in 
As clouds move to blueness 
And colors arch over earth 
Made anew in rejuvenating pleasure.
A butterfly sings, dances, 
And chooses a flowering Daisy’s ring  
Of white ray petals reaching out 
Between the emerald, green blades, 
In prayer and thank you. 
Puddles mirror their beauty; 
Swelling belly raindrops hang 
Swaddling images. 
Our Creator sets off with His Grace.

6/27/2024

love begets love

Sherrie was loved, felt it every minute
Her mother was a cuddler, a hugger,
She had a good heart, and was kind
She never wanted to grow up

But she did grow up, and became a terrific mother
Hugging and loving her own children
Swaddling them from the world for a time,
Showing them they were blessed and loved.

And her children did the same with their children
Love begets love

Grape Wine

May you flourish under a tree that grasps you tight 
May all your dreams flow out aright,
The Jasmin flowers dazing away 
Dancing to the fragrance all the way.

God humbly giving you everything with a blow
That fill's you up with a hole,
Grape wines swaddling up your bones
The path full of stones. 

The grape wines stopping your way
To never let you see all the way,
The sweetness attracts your heart
The only thing that you desire is right underneath your path.

Sing a Song of Holiness

Sing a song of holiness,
Pocket full of grace.
Multitudes of angels
Wing about the place.
The skies above are opened
And all the angels sing.
Isn’t that a fitting gift
To place before the King?

The King is in the manger
Wrapped in swaddling clothes.
The queen is at His bedside
Sitting in repose.
The shepherds and the Magi
All bow down and adore
The little Child King
Who we know is Christ the Lord.

Forged Upon the Plains

Perhaps you hail from verdant coastlands,
or from rolling hills blanketed by trees,
or from the lofty perches of the mountains,
or from the banks of some strong river.

And though I was born in marshy coastland,
and have known the comfort of swaddling trees,
and felt my heart surge at the glories of the mountains,
and been hypnotized by the hidden tongue of the river,
my heart was forged in the plains.

Naked to the sky,
daunting and inviting,
stark and raw.

A soul can grow strong there,
where there's nowhere to hide.
Where truth burns like the shadeless beams of sunlight.

The eye that roves the horizon
and finds little there,
must turn instead to the contours within.
Such beautiful, dangerous features
to be found
in the heart.

27 November 2022

Most Beautiful Christmas Poem

How can mere words express the joy?
Eternal grace from God so given.
In swaddling clothes, a baby boy,
precious gift to us from heaven.

Magi and shepherds worshipped him,
infant Jesus, the new born King.
Birthed to free our souls from sin.
Oh, let our grateful voices sing.

Christmas now is colorful lights,
bright trees, good friends and gifts.
Ask anyone about that Holy Night.
They may know little to none of this.

Sadly, many have not made it through.
There is so much violence today.
Christmas love is needed other months too.
Remember the children when you pray.

The Angels called for “Peace on Earth”
and ‘” Goodwill” to all women and men. 
We have victory in the Christ child’s birth.
Let it ring out, again and again and again.

11/25/2022

High Hotel Bill

Ten straight hours of planned drills
From which they had superb thrills,
All later eating their fill, 
Enough strength to climb a hill...

But soon surfaced a fat bill
And Lil sought to Steward kill;
Ten minutes spent ranting still:
"Ten Grand" only by God's will
Or from a large farm he'll till...
"No, much of it from Rich Gill
And yet a part from poor Mill!"

Accepting the bitter pill
Of swaddling Hotel bill
Exceedingly high like hill
One can't total change with skill

Faces Of Time

Fireworks up in the sky I see
Bold colors divided up tee
Winds colored by shadows up high
Memories of yore scribbling scores
Scintillating wraiths of anchors
Stalling, swaddling tight on my thigh.

Glenna's Wedding---1975

We went to Glenna’s wedding
that late afternoon in summer, you 
and I destined next, never younger.

And there was a rigatoni buffet
and open bar soaked in Popov
and lime, and everyone 

was blessed and blasted
in swaddling polyester and chiffon 
as evening did the Hustle away--

And, it was our night after 
Glenna’s wedding 
stealing the honeymoon,

out at the cottage, until 
that fine summer’s threads
shredded off to the floor,

deep into late, warm nights
of a settling fog, much
like doubt and loss.

    We went to Glenna’s wedding
    that afternoon in summer
    never younger, 

    and there was rigatoni
    Popov, shredding threads
    settling fog...Perspective 

is a kaleidoscope 
of tumbling dreams
down the tunneled lens.

I knew the future once:
and it is this idle I have
to wonder in.

And Rachel Is Still Weeping

The stone that was rejected
now hovers overhead. 
The sword of retribution
still dangles by a thread.
The careless laugh and squander,
the hungry starve away.
Men mock the storm and thunder,
deny the coming day.
They bomb, exploit and plunder –
of necessity they say.
And Rachel still is weeping
for the babes slain at her feet,
in Ramah ever keeping
her bloodstained swaddling sheet.
No longer do they crucify;
they poison, gas and maim.
No martyr do they glorify
or honour by a name.
But the greatest lie they proffer,
it is not that God is dead –
“He’s sleeping,” says the scoffer,
“on yon high and lofty bed.”

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