a daughter’s snuggly wrapped
unwind in her embrace thereof
her fully bloomed roses
that weaves about the trelis
as fingers kid around
her imaginary garden
realized its soften realm
of dimensions in worth
scrutinized by her eyes’ touch
as untroublesome lends value
summons the occasional ruffling
tethering edges amiss in tangles
of her whimsical foot’s lost
that she teasures the hunt of it
whilst single sources
fumble and tumble
and wrecked hair
amidst the prince at the ball
that waits in a lain dream of him
and his gifts of roses
for her favor
to bud at Cherubs dawning
and bloom adrift in Luna’s twilit gamut
e
More Than Just a Toy
Once upon a time, in days gone by,
There lived a small child, beneath a sapphire sky.
His tiny hand clasped tight a furry friend,
Not just a toy, but a bond without end.
Little Timmy found in Teddy Bear's embrace,
A sanctuary safe, a comforting space.
Through tear-stained cheeks and frightened nights,
Teddy was his guiding light.
They adventured far, the two best pals,
Scaling mountains high, answering calls.
Though no words passed between them, none were needed,
An unspoken connection, forever wedded.
In Teddy's button eyes, Timmy saw reflected,
His own hopes, fears, and dreams directed.
Long before he learned to spell F-R-I-E-N-D,
Timmy had a constant companion, a true friend.
To her mum's spanks,
let her cry on your tender shoulder,
oh, soft toy Teddy,
Through all her sleepless nights,
lull her to deep sleep
by her side remain steady.
When the weather burns hot,
soak her sweat away.
When cold wind whispers
let your warmth be ever ready.
Though you are a toy,
be more than that to her,
If you had a tummy
Let her feed you, as if you live.
Though, she dislikes your silver shade,
in the darkest nights,
let your brightness calm her fears.
Throughout her childhood
even for a breath, never leave.
Remain her best friend;
though wordless, speak to her heart,
for only in your comfort she believes.
Such were the tender words of my aunt's sermon,
to my beautiful Eliza,
for she fulfilled each promise
made to Aunty Jane
showering me with nothing but relief.
Joana, here I hand over to you Eliza,
from your grand Aunt to you my niece,
As it guided my childhood,
let it guide yours too.
Keep it clean, take good care of it.
As I hand it over to you,
one day hand it over to your niece too,
a bond of comfort
that will outlive just us two.
A baby acquires natural habit
to take a soft toy in bed while to sleep
accepting that as the most favourite .
Child develops an attachment, truly deep.
I can't recollect a special toy
owned by me : Nobody cared to tell,
but my daughter and granddaughter enjoyed
same practice: I'm telling ih detail.
My daughter was fond of a woolen doll
who secured permanent place beside her
in the bed as if her child after all.
When pressed button, doll to address' Mom , Dear !'
Doll could close eyes in lying position,
sleeping with my daughter till reaching Ten.
Twelve year old Granddaughter holds obsession
for a monkey-toy which till entertains.
She named it Gloria: On Face Time meet
She holds Gloria in her arms always
Addressing ‘Good Morning’ , both I’m to greet.
She starts talking kissing Gloria, each day.
Entry for the MORE THAN A SOFT TOY Contest
More Than A Soft Toy
More than a toy--
This poly-cotton blend,
A plushy bear,
My bestest friend.
His name? Chuckles Beary--
And boy can he rock!
Kept his guitar
In an old woolen sock.
When I was down,
All alone with the blues,
He’d “Roll over Beethoven
and tell Tchaikovsky the news.”
Chuckles played his guitar
“just like ringing a bell.”
His hugs and music
Made everything well.
Even today, grown up
And turning gray,
I can still hear Chuckles
Tune up and say:
“Let me hear that rock and roll music,
any old way you choose it.
Got a backbeat--
you can’t lose it.”
And I’m young again
With Chuckles Beary,
When Rock and Roll was young
And the world a lot less scary
“Go, Johnny, go! Go!”
“Go, Johnny, go! Go!”
“Go, Johnny, go! Go!”
Miss you C.B.
More than a soft toy,
she kept these Puffies
for years; she kept
them free and safe.
I left, right..left..right,
out of her everyday -
her sis marched right
out of her life, but
her Puffies so proud
on a shelf; its shelf life,
who knows, but they’ve spent
nearly half a century with her.
Wallace Berry Cream Puffs
stayed in the palm
of her sister’s hand,
never looking forward
or back, never going far.
This soft toy enjoyed
the chatter, laughter, love
of her new owner.
Reminders of a faraway home,
a forever after,
the sweet kiss of a 5 year old.
She held her Puffies tight; tighter
the memories of so long ago.
It all matters - not the toy,
yes the toy, yes the girl.
The small basset hounds,
coffee brown floppy ears,
cream bodies (like wool),
and ample pink snouts.
The sailor in me knew
these two would
be well-cared for. This child
held her responsibility
in high-regard.
There’d be other collectibles,
but sis never neglects
the treasures of the past.
When I was a young girl,
I had a soft cuddly teddy,
he was my friend,
and I adored him.
After my sister died I needed him,
he was my comfort each night,
so soft and cuddly ... and he had a scent !
Then, one day he was gone,
our house was on fire,
we lost everything,
I lost everything,
Of course, I was given another teddy,
but, it was just not the same,
not as soft or cuddly ... and he had no scent !
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
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.
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
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