Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mark Toney May 29
He awakens to a day of hope
after happy day of birth
attended by smiling parents proud
who know his priceless worth

He awakens to a day of hope
lying restless on his ***
after one move that surprises him
he ends up on his tum

He awakens to a day of hope
on his tum going nowhere fast
flailing arms and legs eventually push
now he's on all fours at last

He awakens to a day of hope
wobbling steadily as best he can
one hand forward followed by knee
then other knee and hand

He awakens to a day of hope
rising quickly on all fours
wide-eyed and giggling all the way
crawling fast across the floors

He awakens to a day of hope
finally standing on his own
weeks to months and months to years
now a family of his own

Mark Toney © 2021
Poetry form: Verse - Mark Toney © 2021
I brought her to the hospital
And I know she is in pain
She says she’ll die today
But I know she’d sustain.

As painful it may be
As fearsome it may seem
My legs are shaking deep inside
I can hear her Scream.

You’d say I can’t feel the pain
She says its life threatening
I believe she’ll do it well
This moment of awakening.

The Doctor consoles her gently
The nurses prepare the room
My heart beats fast, yet sinks a bit
My baby is about to bloom.

I watch the process in silence
My heart is aching slow
The Doctor asks her to push
Our Child will make Her Glow.

Its a Girl and She’s beautiful
I heard the Doctor say
Everyone knows I cried
Saying Happy Mothers’ Day!!

Prashant Shaurya ©

All Rights Reserved

P.S: I wrote this in the labor room while watching my wife give birth to our Daughter. It took me about 5 to 7 minutes to write till the second last stanza. I wrote the last stanza after seeing my newborn baby. My Daughter is my Universe!!

You're the
light in my
heart, my
breathe &
inhaling air.
You're the
lens and
the pupil of
which I
sight. The
window of
my soul and
my twin-spirit.
Baby you're
my motivation,
mission and
destination. I
got my  whole
world in you,
believe me I
live in you.
For your love
soothe and
makes me whole.
Nicole Apr 24
Excitement pumped throughout my palms.
Sitting on the table,
I waited for a sign from you.
Hope lingered,
if only I would have known.

There was so much to look forward to
in this little room.
So many dreams to be had
by this small existence.
Only time would tell.

We held our breath
to hear our future.
Tears and anger followed.
There was no sign.
No sound.
No beat.
No life.

I’ll never forget the defeat
the denial
the devastation
the death.
You had barely just begun.
Now you will never be.

I felt it was my fault.
I could have done better.
I could have dreamed bigger.
I could have wished harder.
I could have…
done nothing.

I think about you often.
What would you look like?
What would you become?
Do you think of me too?
I’d like to think we’d be friends,
past the titles we were originally given,
but it will never be.

You left me that day.
It wasn’t your fault,
but I weep every year.
Understanding has never come.
My heart holds you still,
my joy.
I am
the highway tunnels drilled in your gums
from when your baby teeth plucked themselves out.

I am
the **** rotting on the bed,
whose gelatin you flayed off with your rusted spoon.

I am
the accused with his bounty price
plastered across the billboard sign.

I am
the dying fetus
jutting her head outside the womb.

I am these tributaries — these waves that thirst — which, at first glance, don’t connect. In time, they will prove

that humanity has claimed territory in them.
I am the mouth, drooling forth my mountain water.

This larger lake! I shall never see beyond it.
I am not the fifth dimension, where the sky hangs its hook.

So what?
I have its might. I am the colonizer in its territory,
and I claim it.
Femi Apr 18
I used to be so weak
Only strength I had was to lie and weep.
I cried alone, until the noises collectively made a song.
Melodic lullabies as if I were once a baby.
I never was though,
and that's so crazy.
Rob Apr 17
sometimes i wish i was six again
when you would hold me in your arms
and sing me a lullaby.
i miss how close we were,
you were always so loving,
and so kind.
i remember the days i would stay in your bed sick
and you would rub my back
and sing to me as i fell asleep.
i miss those days
i want to feel sick again
so you can make me feel better
is it weird i want to be back in your arms?
what if i asked you for
one more lullaby?
Lily Priest Apr 15
Eyes open into newness
And find a smile
Dimpled giddy
With the happiness
That took only one look to awaken
And one little life to nurture.
Nine months worth of waiting
Melt into a promise of forever.
My love for you is an endless
Beautiful thing.
Bigger than the both of us
Loud and bellowing.
But I whisper it
because I want to let you sleep.
My sister recently had her first child and I wrote this for her. It doesnt do the moment of moma meeting baby for the first time justice, but its something.
Maria Mitea Apr 9
our dying kiss
two babies were born
with flying wings
I know,
It is hard to believe! BUT
There is always a higher power that takes care of yourself.
(I also tell this to myself every day when I pray)
Juliana Apr 4
It was a Thursday when the doctor
gave news of the small child’s birth.

She was the first girl,
the entire light
in her mother’s new world.

Daughter of the mayor,
her name would
turn up in the local paper.
Letters would be written as
townspeople learned of the labor.

It was early in the summer,
birds pecked the dirt,
looking for worms.

The nurse was late for work,
as she was a helper
at the local church.

Times would eventually turn,
but for now, little Pearl
was like a dam waiting to burst.

The curl of her lips
showed her mood was firm.
She was a wave
that would soon be heard.

Quickly, she began to stir,
her eyes starting to blur.
Her mother worried,
feared the worst,
but all Pearl wanted
was someone to
nourish her thirst.

Years later, Pearl would sit,
searching a diner
while summer went quick.

Who was a tourist,
who did she know?

She was dressed
in a purple shirt,
and glamour radiated
down to her toes.

It was the third time
the waiter returned,
this time with Pearl’s dinner,
and the courage to earn
her number while the sun
slowly burned.

She drew circles in her journal,
finding peace among the curves,
and encouraged the boy
in thirteen little words.

The next week, she offered
him her hand,
and below the evening sun,
a new journey they began.
Next page