#infancy
Knowing is but a strange
For I believe I
Know more about me
Than anyone knows me
Yet this, a falsehood
For I do not know me
I cannot comprehend me
For years of infancy
But my mother
She knew me
Before I knew life
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
Crocus will continue to wilt and Shrivel in the nursery,
Its too late for the primula, necrose to clockworks decay,
Ghost of baby's breath can you please tell me,
What happened to your infancy?
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 12:07 PM UTC
She can not understand
how much a heart can desire
something it never had.
Those little hands and little toes
soft coos and a tiny, button-nose.
Wrapped in white, an angel sleeping,
peaceful and drowsy,
with all the angels waiting.
With hands that don't know how to stay
and cries are all to communicate,
a darling angel grows and cleaves,
relying on one for all she needs.
And wherever in Heaven she may be,
your lonely mother waits for thee.
Dec 17, 2023
Dec 17, 2023 at 8:50 AM UTC
There strolls another father,
Scrolling while his daughter
Rides her stroller as they stroll.
He really oughtn't scroll,
She's awake as they stroll;
It's a stroller, not a scroller.
The purpose of a stroll,
Is to walk and talk the prattle,
The speach that infants rattle
While strolling in their stroller.
Sing to your child,
Stroll all the while,
Hum or whistle,
Mumble……..Grumble;
But don't silently scroll on,
While strolling with the stroller.
Recall childhood rhymes, if you can,
Say the ABCs or count to ten;
Talk of little piggies and brazen toads,
Meaningful memories,
And yellow brick roads.
Enjoy your strolling.
Enjoy your scrolling.
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 5:05 PM UTC
Return to infancy;
Before true perception and intelligence
Were explained away,
Before the mind joined the infantry,
Before we learned to be rationally afraid
Of everything.
Jun 14, 2022
Jun 14, 2022 at 7:01 PM UTC
Aromas of childhood wafting through
Are they immortal in you, O wayward Wind?
For I've aged in myself
metamorphosing through linear years;
And the freshness of youth which was once beheld, now
Has all but been buried under the dunes
Of shifting memories accumulated;
Where there once was an oasis of innocence—
Where bathed this pristine soul;
But since has been evaporating from this cloudless arid clime.
Methinks you've vaulted my scent of nascent-hood
O dear, dear omnipresent Wind,
So that I may inhale the tang of youth
Cycled back by your exhalation
So that I, may gulp a self, that was once closer to the truth.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 5:38 AM UTC
True comfort lies in
Infancy or in
Mother's lap,
But
True peace lies
only in Death
And
I know that
Because
In death you
Are free from all
Pains and emotions,
Like I was in that
Comatose state
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 12:08 PM UTC
patterned love responses
spiraling outward from
the chest in search
of hearth and
hemlock to
soothe the brittle
bones of a
generation lost
to time.
I remember a feeling
once felt in
the spacious quality
of my life
in its infancy.
a 'coo' to my
mother--her face
beaming through
the unknown
harshness of life
yet to touch me.
father was out
working, adding
more and more
points of stress to
his life to provide
for the seeds
he sewed in the
soil of his youthful
ignorance.
adulthood snuck
up on me too and
now its too late to
go back.
these days
the only coup
that will save me
is the one
I perpetrate
against myself.
the one that
corrodes my beliefs
and illuminates
the extent of their
misconceptions about
the world and
what it means
to be me.
loyal are the lashes
that lick my flesh
serving the blood
that drips and
flows to the
soil of my own
wasted youth.
all I can do now
is look forward
to the unknown
that looms ahead;
terrifying and promising
failure and change
alike.
pray to your altars
and cry to the
invisible mute gods;
they will answer
in kind in the
laughter of children
playing upon
your spent life.
and so it goes--
life eats life
and mother's die
too.
use your voice
while you have
it--speak of clouds
and storms that
broke you, of winter
and the living
silence you've endured.
praise be to the
broken and the
weary of heart, for
in the breaking is
the great gift
of life
and what you
become after each
shattering is nothing
short of your
endless potential.
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 11:26 AM UTC
i was an insect
on a divine windshield
a speck of dust
on an otherwise stainless garb
when wiper blades swept me down
in my infancy
a young brood
i am guts
i am blood
i am gross things
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:57 PM UTC
The butterflies have transformed into birds that sing not only during the day but also when the darkness behind my eyelids are all I can see.
And that's how I know that I feel so much for you.
🦋🦋🦋
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 6:07 PM UTC
You can touch your feet if you're an infant,
You may even put your feet into your mouth,
And you will still look so cute.
You try to repeat it after growing up,
Your relatives will take you to the psychiatrist,
And you won't like this ugly twist.
I was surely so cute in my infancy,
During my childhood, I was cute still,
Everyone loved me so much.
What about now?
Now I have grown up.
Senescence took a heavy toll.
I miss my infancy,
I miss my childhood,
I hope to father cuteness.
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
This baby is so full of life,
Playing the leisurely fife.
I am glad that now I have grown up,
Trust me when I say that of my existence there's no end.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
I don't fear death
But I fear life
And the agony that follow
Like an amorphous shadow
There's no escape from this hell,my friend
Unheeded we all die alone
With a crooked smile on the lips
Beneath this summer moon
The soft gentle wind croon
Broken promises of see you soon
.
We fear and hate the happy ones
Bliss is a forgotten friend
And we lie and lie and lie
Till it resembles to the truth
Experience comes at a price
Which is so godmann high
We trade our innocence
And sell our souls to survive
Surrendering to the fears we thrive
And those fragile feelings we hive
.
And the children are insane
For they dance naked in the rain
Being blind to their personal gain
They don't feel fear nor the pain
And the children are insane
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
Life started; my ear to your heart.
I heard life growing, but you grew up too fast.
Knowing so many things--
You decorated your parents in the sweet laughter you brought
and still bring.
I feel connected to you through the rhythm of your heart.
You fought to start -- sought your own part in life,
though you couldn't do it unsupported.
Your requited love has grown, and plays on our souls in the happiness we've known.
You dance. You sing.
You've arrived. Alive and kicking.
My everything.
My reward: little socks, conversations with playful teddy bears, square blocks, and good food eaten in highchairs. Knocks on the head each day.
Your love of monsters and animals, and the funny things you have said
and still say.
Kisses. Hugs. Pokes in the ribs. Tears and giggles.
The fear of closed doors, but a big fan of pigs!
Little hands. Curly hair.
I think about you everywhere.
Your first walk. The shock of unknowing.
Our open arms and your gradual growth into them,
and growth into knowing.
Now, safe and warm, blankets and toys -- I watch you sleep flawlessly unspoiled.
I watch and need this growing piece of me; my future seed. This all-seeing, bright eyed and innocent being -- I see so many parts of me in him.
Little socks -- and lots and lots of tickles and curly golden locks and you're the best thing I've ever seen.
It is you, dear boy, I understand.
I love to hold your little hands.
And make you laugh, and hear you talk;
That way you can't say ''box''.
But most of all I just love you.
You and your little socks.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC