Poem Details | by
Jack Ellison |
Categories:
journey, life,
Travelling through life resembles an arc
We start out as a child emerging from the dark
To reach a crescendo
Establishing a tempo
Then sadly we all must eventually disembark
© Jack Ellison 2015
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Poem Details | by
JAN ALLISON |
Categories:
birth, body, humorous,
I crossed my legs but there was a flood
Blushing red I hope folks understood
But my waters had burst
And the baby's my first
Guess I'm ready to start motherhood!
NOT FOR CONTEST
WRITTEN on 27TH August 2016 BY JAN ALLISON
My babe arrived as hungry as a horse
As a good mother, I fed him, of course
When my breasts began to fill
Another flood was about to spill
Until my child suckled with great force.
WRITTEN ON 08/27/16 BY LIN LANE
The first twelve months went mighty quick
Time flying by lickity split
Crawls out of bed
Sits on mom's head
A young fireman squirting his stick
WRITTEN 08/27/16 BY TIM SMITH
Hay, thought I heard another sound of thunder roar
Eeh gad, seems to be another two babies more
They all have lots of hair
Mother-in-law beware
Now I am having triplets let me out the door
WRITTEN 08/27/16 BY EVE T M C
He was born without a suntan
And didn’t favor the milk man
Birthed on a polar bear rug
Full beard on his tiny mug
Holding a harpoon like Tarzan!
WRITTEN BY SONNY ROPER 8/27/2016
Oh my! What will people think?
My baby doesn’t favor his dad’s wink
I can always claim in shame
He favors my grandma’s frame
On my mother’s side is large and pink
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER 8/27/2016
One baby after another
I sure am a busy mother
I cross my knees
Whenever I sneeze
Out one end or the other!
WRITTEN BY CASARAH NANCE
It’s all my darn uterus’s fault,
Can’t bring my crying to a halt,
No more sex with my hubby,
I’m just too tired and chubby,
This babe’s an exhausting result!
Ice came out sucking a pacifier,
Posted sign, “Eskimo nanny for hire!”,
But when warm milk is felt,
Baby started to melt,
Naughty nanny immediately fired!
The ice came out with a binky,
And a diaper pretty stinky!
Eskimo baby is she,
Could it even be a he?
It’s too frozen and all wrinkly!
ALL WRITTEN BY LAURA LOO
One by one they came out, midwife slapped 'em
and into the cradle she packed 'em
father blew candle out
and exclaimed with a shout
" Just like moths, it's the light that attracts 'em!"
WRITTEN BY VIV WIGLEY
Making babies was so much fun
Now my boobies reach to my tum
I can't even sneeze or cough
It set's my weak bladder off..
I'd better stick to coke and rum
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
AWARDED POEM OF THE WEEK ON 28TH AUGUST - THE HONOUR IS SHARED BY US ALL.SPECIAL THANKS TO LIN LANE FOR STARTING THE COLLABORATION
I'm feeling like a slot machine
My wheels stopped on three tangerines
Babies falling like rain
It's no longer a strain
That last one looks just like my spleen
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
I thought I was going to have two
But now I don't even have a clue
It feels like maybe four
I can't take it no more
I have five months to go til I'm due
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
I was rushed to the hospital gate
not yet due, but I just couldn't wait
labor's water broke through
elevator broke too
flooded stairwells to room did create!
WRITTEN BY SANDRA HAIGHT
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Poem Details | by
Lin Lane |
Categories:
introspection,
I was a child of only seven years,
adventurous, bold, I had no fears.
Into the woods I would go
after my Mom told me "No."
But worth the spanking and the tears.
These days the woods are worrisome,
fear I may trip and land on my bum.
Things live there I didn't see
when I was young and carefree.
With age, it's to caution I have succumb.
{ { { February 14th, 2016 } } }
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Poem Details | by
Dana Smith |
Categories:
dedication, depression, life, lost
Who am I, oh, who am I?
Just a poser child Borderline?
A series of bold contradictions
Led on by doctors false predictions
Diagnosing all the time...
Angry outbursts fill the air,
Throwing objects everywhere,
They drug me up, because they're lazy
It's too much work to help the crazy
I hate the pills, but they don't care
Take the drugs, and you'll feel better,
We'll smoke some bud, and chill together
But even if I smoked the weed
Surely that's not all I need
The lovely high won't last forever
I get attatached to everyone,
But when they get too close, I run
So many arrows in my heart
Cupid shoots, but then I part
Not phased by all the wrong I've done
So put me on more medication,
I'll throw in some dedication,
But even then it's not enough
This emptiness is still too tough
All that's left is contemplation
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Poem Details | by
Janice Canerdy |
Categories:
appreciation, humor,
The series "Despicable Me,"
we've flocked to theaters to see.
Wee minions--cute creatures--
and bad guys each features.
To all we respond with great glee.
I never dreamed five years ago
that I would soon dash to and fro
in search of these minions--
in children's opinions,
all treasuresHow well I now know!
Some kids possess minions galore:
the one-eyed, the two-eyed, and more.
They giggle and jabber;
"BANANA," some blabber.
Their odd appeal, who could ignore?
My grandson's like other young boys.
For Christmas he craved minion toys.
His loved ones went shopping
for hours, not stopping
till we found gifts he now enjoys.
The minion-themed presents I gave
were puzzles, a cool talking Dave,
a pillow with three guys
with one or two huge eyes.
For these he did hug me and rave.
` I'm glad to say just one thing more:
Fart Blaster, I left at the store!
The child would have driven
me nuts if I'd given
him that thing; but Dave, I adore.
Date posted: February 23, 2016
The rhyming scheme of a limerick is aabba.
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Poem Details | by
alan balter |
Categories:
animal,
Harvey the Hippo
Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large as a riverboat barge
And he weighs ten times more than a lot of us
Big Harvey isn’t nasty or troublesome
Nor like other guys who are double dumb
He just wanders around stomping the ground
Looking for pieces of bubble gum
Harvey owns a fine yellow cummerbund
And sewn on the back is the number one
He wears it right proudly and bellows quite loudly
While playing outside in the summer sun
Once Harvey met up with a crocodile
Together they decided to walk a mile
Near the shore they strolled, but the water got cold
So they sat down to talk on the dock a while
Eating Oreo cookies about four apiece
They talked about matters of war and peace
They discussed the economy, art, and astronomy
And the huge immigration of foreign geese
Then walking back toward his new shiny house
Harvey stopped for a chat with a tiny mouse
Her name was Du Barry; they decided to marry
And soon come a baby named Stanislaus
A handsome young child was Stanislaus
Dressed up in his fine silken Spanish blouse
They all had made history; this was no mystery
For Stan was the first Hippopotamouse
Huge Harvey adored his sweet ladylove
From her wee little feet to her head above
He brought her some strings and other fine things
Including a snowy white turtledove
Harvey has grown really mellow now
He seldom produces a bellow now
But if you’re down by the bay, you can still see him play
This wondrous and gentle old fellow now
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Poem Details | by
Deborah Burch |
Categories:
adventure, childhood, fantasy, hope,
"First of May"
When I was a child I ran away
To live with the circus in Bombay,
Where all things were new
And possible, too!
So, for this they called me "First of May"!
I started out selling concessions:
Hot! Popcorn! Hot! Peanuts! Confections!
But in my spare time,
I'd secretly climb
Into the Great Cannon--for missions!
My costume and cape were blue and grey,
Spark'ling like stars with each flight--Away!
By day selling fare--
Nights--Fly Through The Air!
Dreams do come true when you're "First of May"!*
deborah burch©
4/28/2012
*Note: "First of May" is a circus term used to describe 'newbies' who come to the circus...it means that everything is new,exciting, fresh, and anything/everything is possible! :)
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Poem Details | by
Daljit Khankhana |
Categories:
caregiving
The Poem is dedicated to nine innocents who has lost their lives in Israli attak on their
humanitarian aid
Docility, a living destitute of Anthropomorphism.
Recency, appalling of desperation or piteous anomalism.
Recommendations apotheosize a fussiness of hell or heaven,
A gun shooter killed innocents a crackable Raven
To shot a child or an old person hard lines limicolous
Inconsecutive lewdness a peevish peeping Tom Ligneous.
Reprehensible polygamist direful coiled chaotic prattle,
A salacious salubrity paramour remorseless battle
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Poem Details | by
Jack Ellison |
Categories:
age,
Eighty seems to be the transition age
When we revert back to a child like stage
We stomp our feet
No more sweet
It allows us the privilege to rant and rave
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Poem Details | by
Nitesh Aggarwal |
Categories:
computer-internet, family, for children,
I woke up in rapture, when she started to sing.
Naughty whispers in my ears, “Someone’s coming”
My ecstatic view;
A child is due!
Then she continues, “My mother’s visiting”
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Poem Details | by
Joseph May |
Categories:
fun,
Dear depressed girfriend
You must bring this relationship to an end
He doesn't want you at all
Except for a booty call
That seems to be the trend
The two baby daddies that you got
Are they paying child support or not?
I don't intend to be mean
But you have very low self esteem
Try to find someone who loves you lots
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Poem Details | by
Caryl Muzzey |
Categories:
childhood
As a child it was fun and quite daring
To ogle what each other was carrying
We hid in the loft
Where we played quite oft
To inspect what the other was baring
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl SMuzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "There once was a man from Dunkirk ” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi
Feb15, 2011
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Poem Details | by
Duke Beaufort |
Categories:
allegory, dream, wisdom,
When unsurpassed greed's uncontrolled
King Midas' story be told!
The steps to his stash
Cast his daughter for cash
She's an allegory of gold
Author's note: I had a vivid dream a few nights ago Part of it included a feeling that I needed to check my personal stash of valuables I thought the items were locked in the basement However, when I came to the door to the staircase leading down expecting it to be locked, it was ajar I opened it all the way, and there was a child coming up the steps We looked at each other, and the child tumbled down the stairs and appeared dead It was a terrible feeling The poem above is one interpretation of what I might have been trying to tell myself There are other interpretations as well However, I am left with the idea that our society's focus on the material is destroying our love for each other and our families This is a huge problem for me and has taken a lot of my thought time over the past few days Meanwhile, I tell myself to enjoy each day, and I try.
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Poem Details | by
Mark Goodson |
Categories:
childhood, death, depression, family,
When I was a child of nine
I thought I had all the time
Time to live and be happy
Time to fish with my pappy
But death had crossed the line
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Poem Details | by
Robert A. Dufresne |
Categories:
fantasy
A slim handsome ogre named Vampire,
married into a fairytale empire.
His elfin wife named Hairy
bore him a sharp toothed fairy,
That looked like a Hobbit from the shire.
Much to the elves’ and Ogres’ chagrin,
they bore an impish child again.
This time being on a roll,
they bore an impish troll,
and now all the fantasy creatures are kin!
(inspired by Debbie Guzzi's contest)
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Poem Details | by
Cynthia Jones |
Categories:
art,
There once was a child from Canada
Who loved eating bananas,
He went to the zoo
Gave one to the roo,
Now the roo has a banana colored bandana
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Feb.17/2005
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Poem Details | by
JACQUELYN STURGE |
Categories:
funny, blue, boy,
They have poor Little Boy Blue tending sheep
That's why he got tired and fell asleep,
Other kids on the court
Shooting hoops playing sport,
He's scared of his dad and won't say a peep.
Well the cows went and eat up all the corn
And they want poor Boy Blue to blow his horn,
Why 'twas not a drum set
Or guitar, better yet,
The cows and the sheep to him would be drawn.
Didn't his parents know the Child Labor Laws
Or somebody forgot to read that clause
Protective Services
Should be called into this,
They should hire workers to meet that cause.
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Poem Details | by
Adell Foster |
Categories:
art, daughter, education, family,
MsPotter caught her daughter Lollipop
There dancing in the grocer’s parking lot
And scolded her profusely
‘Til someone cranked up “Juicy”…
MsPotter stopped and dropped it like it’s hot
Comments:
How soon some forget that they were once young tooIf the power of dance is ones
passion it is not the worst vice a child can have, in fact it is good exercise One
Love
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Poem Details | by
Thomas Martin |
Categories:
appreciation, growing up, ocean,
For the child in us all.
Sea, sea can't catch me,
All the waves that I can see,
Would like to carry me away
Swallow my blue-eyed day
Swell up and float away wee, me.
That I respect my blowsy ocean
You cannot be a sea without motion,
Nor I a child without fear of your tides,
But oh they so give such fabulous rides,
When from you I teasingly run.
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Poem Details | by
john chizoba vincent |
Categories:
art,
In my baby diaper i sang
Then motherly songs never slang
Lullaby welcomes me home meekly
In me lies hope boldly
But i still remain a child in the gang
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Poem Details | by
JACQUELYN STURGE |
Categories:
funny,
Well I pulled out some Mother Goose rhymes
'Cause I read to my Great-Grand sometimes,
And the rhymes that I read
They were so very dread
Nowadays they'd be considered crimes.
That Old Lady who lived in a shoe
Why didn't somebody tell her "don't screw"
With a whole bunch of kids
And living on the skids,
Then abusing the children, who knew?
Not a Baby Daddy was in port
Did the Cops get them for child support,
What 'bout the welfare check?
No food stamps? what the heck!
Did she trade it for something to snort?
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Poem Details | by
Richard Breese |
Categories:
angel, baby, child, child
There once was a child with a rattle
Who liked to crawl around cattle.
Until its mom found out
And to her ex did shout,
You just lost your custody battle.
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Poem Details | by
Jimmy Anderson |
Categories:
funny, holidayme,
Age 5
As a child I awoke from my slumber
I arose from the couch to grab a cucumber
Santa was eating my cookies.
Like a baseball rookie.
I threw the cucumber and Santa fell like lumber!
Age 6
Santa returned the following year.
No presents for me was my biggest fear.
I hid behind the couch.
I heard Santa say "ouch."
He slipped on my marbles and fell on his rear!
Age 7
The following Christmas was a surprise to me.
I fell asleep curled up under the tree
Santa woke me with a smile
He said, "It's been awhile."
Then dumped Rudolph's dung on me!
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Poem Details | by
Anisha Dutta |
Categories:
appreciation, bird,
Feeding The Ducklings
While picking up my little daughter from school
We were to follow the path passing a pool,
only to watch ducks and ducklings
swimming, playing, gaily giggling.
Blowing breeze over water was soothing and cool.
My child was to throw bread-piece from pocket
or to hit tiny fruits with her racket
to drop those and float on water surface.
Flock of ducklings swam on rapid race
to swallow floating fruits on prompt attempt.
On her primary school days that was a routine.
Feeding of ducklings was funny and fine.
Merry ducklings always follow duck
Amusing cheerful calls ‘Quack-Quack’.
A sweet remembrance of my child and mine.
05/12/16
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Poem Details | by
Enik Fox |
Categories:
warheart, people, child, heart,
The mighty warlord shakes his fist and sends his troops to the abyss
Families broken and torn because of an oath that was sworn
Fathers and sons die in vain but no one can feel their pain
Mothers cry as their children are sent off to die
Innocent blood is shed, does no one care for these dead
Sadness grips the heart of man as many a persons blood stains the land
Cries from the public go unheard as the warlord shouts his mighty words
Kill them all he says, make these people pay
The screams of wounded go on through the night begging for the warlord to end the fight
No answer comes from his high up throne for his heart is cold as stone
Only a child dared to face him
He begged for his people
His words so moved the warlord he again shook is fist this time calling his troops from
the abyss
Families are pieced back together after the mighty storm they have weathered
The child is proclaimed a hero
Sides that once wared against each other now call themselves brothers
Fields are resown and homes rebuilt, no longer does the warlord feel guilt
But nothing can replace the loss of life for that is the true price of war
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Poem Details | by
john fedele |
Categories:
confusion, courage, day, deep,
scars have the power to remind us that the past is real-"hanibal lector"
Why didn't they kill me..why am i still here...?
Being successful is my goal...being flat broke, my biggest fear
The pain is far to great to hide, laying awake, wide eyed, contemplating suicide,
what is my purpose, and if i stay alive, would it all be worth it?
will I make something of myself? or maybe i should just forfeit,
my one wish is to not have to worry, and to all those I've disappointed, I gave up, and I'm sorry
A strong man is what people think of me,
but deep down inside, a child is what i aim to be,
because you see, a child, so carefree,
doesn't worry about the downsides to the world,
only the fun things God lets them see....
please, one day set me free,
take me away,
from this hurt filled life that I lead,
I plead and plead for someone to rescue me,
but when I look in the mirror, what is it that I see?
a broken down child, crying on both knees
this life gives no mercy, and only the strong survive,
how will my family react...in the event of my demise?
i pray no one cries for me, because i am in a better place,
I've rid myself of the bitter pain, sadness and disgrace
maybe if i get another chance, my demons i will face,
but for now i walk through the valley of death, a sad, cold, and bitter place.
Hoping after this valley ill see heavens smiles and grace,
but I fear that my mistakes will lead me to the devils face
so many mistakes I can never erase, You only get one chance,
so my advice is to seize the day.
I've tried...I've prayed and prayed, but the pain still wont go away
day after day, my life i want to take away...but even that I fail to do
so night after night I'll lay,
in bed awake but dreaming, of the day my pain goes away...
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Poem Details | by
Patricia Sawyer |
Categories:
adventure, funny, seasons
there once was a child from the city
who grew up in fear.what a pity
she cried millions of tears
and was ignored fifty years
now in a puddle she scribbles this ditty
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Poem Details | by
Sara Chansarkar |
Categories:
friend, funny,
You, my friend make me a child again
Unlocking the silliness I hide in my brain
No dirty jokes, I tell my kids
With eyes firm under the lids
But laughing at your poop jokes, I can’t restrain
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Poem Details | by
James Horn |
Categories:
sympathy,
After Crime
After Crime was a cremation
Happening after a situation
When a child was killed
Whose life was not fulfilled
May never find an explanation.
Jim Horn
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Poem Details | by
George Aul |
Categories:
humor, love hurts,
She told me she loved me but what a lie,
her clock was ticking - child days flying by,
the devious plan was set,
I fell for the scam, you bet...
My kingdom for a noose around one-eye!
08/02/2016
Just for contest purposes.
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Poem Details | by
James Horn |
Categories:
humorous,
Insults By Trump
Trump's insults seem to be unending
And on mind of a child are depending
Don't invite people and be a deterrent
Knowledge of issues is never current
His campaign should be suspending.
Jim Horn
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Poem Details | by
Richard Olson |
Categories:
political, truth,
He was a fox in the art of the deal.
From the flocks, nest eggs he would steal.
He'd cheat on his spouse,
this white-collar louse,
for the chance to cop just a feel.
He bathed in the light of his fame.
Obsessed with the sound of his name.
Money came first,
though never dispersed,
for him it was all just a game.
He sat all alone in his tower.
Dreaming of absolute power.
Reality waned,
whenever he reigned,
in a mind that would twist by the hour.
He was a child in a much older shell.
Carried by slaves when he fell.
He never once sweat,
in the bed that he wet,
but be damned anyone who would tell.
He somehow maintained this mirage.
To the fools he would soon sabotage.
He promised them things,
without any strings,
till these lies became a barrage.
No matter as truth was no more.
It was banished as though it a whore.
Conservative thought,
was easily bought,
with the charlatan king came the store.
He ascended his Washington throne.
As common sense wasn't found in a phone.
Blindsided by hate,
a degenerative trait,
by those quick to cast the first stone.
So where does this leave us now?
Are we sucking pigs to this sow?
Will he smother us all,
as he rolls with each call,
or will he keep us around just to bow?
Written: 12/26/16
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Poem Details | by
James Horn |
Categories:
appreciation, sympathy,
Sympathize
What I sometimes realize
How other people sympathize
With me and my each effort
No one would I ever hurt
A hungry child always cries.
Jim Horn
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
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Poem Details | by
James Edward Lee Sr. |
Categories:
baby, bio, blessing, celebration,
There once was the toddler named LeiNah;
Such a pretty young tang was ya could C her;
She loves balloons and animals but to her dismay;
Her mother said no, no way, no animals at this house this i say;
See ya daddy, Oh by the way here's a doll now go sit down you here!
My dear!!!
There once was a girl name LeiNah;
If you don't feed her on time she'll scream at you;
Supper better be good or should give you a right hook;
Her uncle calls her "Death Grip " ;
Her little hand holds you real tight better not get in a fight ;
Or she'll rock your night;
Hit ya so hard you won't your wrong from your right, GOOD Note!
And when she gets older, she'll make them bullies;
Hand over their shoes,
As they run away boo-who, boo-who boo who;
And just how old she is;
I AM ONLY 14 months, ya chump NO! Really;
Unlike Lena Horne;
I'll make you sing soprano if you pull my hair;
I am not a Tomgirl, my Grandpa says I am a MANGIRL!!
Careful I'll steal your joy;
Now TMZ better spell my name right see;
Or I'm gonna tell my mom the real paparazzi;
An unlike " Destiny's Child " Say my name, Say my name;
Muhammad Ali "What's my name, What's my name;
Git it write, I spell my name
LeiNah
Don't mess with me or ya B barefooted and I'll have you shoes around my neck;
And the neck time you see me bully U B writing me out a check;
Now what's my name again
Say my name my new friend;
Spell it now
Git it right
My name is.......
LeiNah And I'm glad to meet ya!!
Ha
Ha
Ha
LeiNah's Song
Written by James Edward Lee Sr (c)2017
Dedicated to MY granddaughter
June 2017
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Poem Details | by
James Horn |
Categories:
allegory, analogy,
Sing Us A Stanza
We want someone to sing us a stanza
About when we entered an extravaganza
Forgot child support;
Spend a day in court;
After trying to find a big bonanza.
Jim Horn
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Poem Details | by
Brian Johnston |
Categories:
humorous,
1.
We men are all chauvinist pigs tra-la-la,
And love to take girls to our digs tra-la-la
Though girl snorts when she laughs,
We don't care about gaffes,
When our hearts find they're all dancing jigs tra-la-la!
2.
I'm a kid who grew up on the farm tra-la-la
And I don't mean to woo or alarm tra-la-la,
But I'm telling y'all,
Don't make fun of the drawl,
Or you're likely to feel more than charm tra-la-la.
3.
There are Sundays you'll find me in church tra-la-la,
But on weekdays I try to climb birch tra-la-la
I don't care what you say,
I know Frost went this way,
And my muse loves the view from his perch tra-la-la.
4.
I heard "anyone lived in a pretty how town," (1)
But Salvation escaped him, eloped with a clown,
Death is ever the wage paid for sins,
But a child at Christ's feet mostly grins,
Questions asked with no frown; angels bless child's renown!
Brian Johnston
August 15,2017
Poet's Notes:
Limerick #3 is a take off on Robert Frost's famous poem "Birches."
(1) Limerick #4 is meant to be a humorous commentary on a famous e e cummings poem.
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