"borns" poems
I believe, God put his view on the world in new borns eyes, and when you stare down into the kaleidoscope wonders, you see the natural beauty of what this all use to be. And when I look down at you Cooper, know I'm standing in the Garden of Eden, with tears rolling down my cheeks, splashing against a phone screen, preventing me from watching you blink. Aunty loves you Cooper.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
I will love you seven days a week.
I will tell you tales, and love you as we speak.
I will love you today,
And I will love you more each day.
I will love you like Monday.
Like how the Moon loves to kiss the bay.
Like what happened on July 20, 1969,
I will take the risk like my life is on the line.
Because this day will be the start,
Of a one giant leap for my heart.
I will love you like Tuesday.
Like how Ares loves to slay.
I will fight for you till the end of the week,
And claim you as the prize that I seek.
Because even the God of War,
Lost the battle to the one he adore.
I will love you like Wednesday.
Like how Hermes loves to play.
To your heart, I will become a guide.
Everything that you'll need, I will provide.
Every problem we will outwit.
We will face it together, we won't quit.
I will love you like Thursday.
Like how Thor loves to throw his hammer away.
I'll try to be perfect like him,
Even though I am weak and I am slim.
And when our love meets Ragnarok,
I will remind you how I love you again like an alarm clock.
I will love you like Friday.
Like how Freya loves her beauty to be portray.
On this day I will adore your beauty,
I'll touch and give pleasure to your body.
I'll bring you gifts and other thing,
And I'll hope that one day you'll wear that diamond ring.
I will love you like Saturday.
Like how Cronus loves to eat a new-borns buffet.
How I hope I won't suffer the same fate,
Because did you know what happened to this mate?
I promise not to be a Cronus.
I'll love you and our children as a bonus.
I will love you like Sunday.
Like how the Sun loves to give us a brand new day.
This may be the end of the week,
But my love for you won't end, this I speak.
For I love you seven days a week,
And I'll end everyday with a kiss on your cheek.
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
"Born"
was created from lost hopes
dead dreams
unwritten tales
tough waves
"Born"
has magnitudes of words to be spoken
to be written
to be heard
"Borns"
profile is simple
If I told you my story
You wouldn't be satisfied
You wouldn't understand it
you would seek more of it
and still beg me to stop narrating it
you won't bear the pains
but you will crave for the joys
"Born"
is most about reality, life
not much fiction
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Two silhouettes muttered through cigarette smoke next to the tall, black double doors at the head of the corridor
unfazed by the white rectangles flickering above us. The doors parted
next thing I knew, I was in
a black box of four tall black walls, and a clammy black floor
made of the same padded fabric as the entrance doors.
Riotous bass pummelled through the room like a tortured bull.
There were hundreds of people here; maybe more
but they were all lying docile, faceless and still
against each other.
They were all young. I picked up an inconsistent rhythm of chests rising and falling
like ripples ushered across the sea by a gentle breeze.
Yet it was the overwhelming sense of flesh here that
lit a snarling viciousness within me. How it excited me and how
I feared it.
I was a butcher, afraid of what he could do.
I saw someone I recognised – her brown hair was tied back, her eyelashes
twitched in her slumber. I stepped over and sat behind her. She pulled herself closer to me
and kissed my cheek. I buried my face in her neck and placed my palm on her bare stomach
took my index finger, and ran a circle around her navel.
I can’t remember what happened after that. Images slip through like
water in cupped hands.
But I remember the raw beat, and the gentle ripple of chests
and how it reminded me of the sleeping new-borns in a maternal ward.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC
My mind is quite like the world I live..
Corrupted....
Sin in a mural of fear...
I've plagued the Daydreamers...
Killed off their first borns...
With fantasies of success...
In defeat they shall mourn ...
Cuz Tomorrow will never come..
cause it will always be today..
when you wake up
go to sleep
No matter what you say....
When the sunrises you will be in Today..
The sickness this disease,
will seep from my brain..
and or it seeped there, still,
I will proclaim that
I'm Pyscho for real....
You just haven't accepted
what you really feel...
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
My family What's app group
Is homemade soup.
It keeps me calm,
Soothes me like a balm,
Reduces tension of the day,
Appeases my appetite for what is happening in some way.
Family relationship is savoury broth,
Holds a strong bond and growth.
Photos and videos,
Not to forget audios,
Are seasonings which enhance the taste,
Just some, only the best.
Gossips,jokes and sayings need time to simmer,
To reach full flavour.
Family moans and groans,
Are birthdays, death,sickness and new borns,
Raining with condolences and wishes,
Tangy, no preservatives.
Family members are garnish,
Quite a relish,
With active members as crusty croutons,
That promote sociability and traditions.
Passive members are fresh herbs,
Rarely a comment,only few words,
But,are there to bring out the lovely aroma.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
13 shades of blue
With strokes of brush
****** in leathery paint
I Colour me treize
Hues of blues
Into the blue yonder
Runs my mind
Picking for my throes
Carnations blue
Cerulean paint I
Silence of my orbs
Dandelion desires
Shimmer sapphire hue
Laughter echoes
Waterfalls Periwinkle
Meconopsis curiosities
Walking avenues
Rocking plopping
Dances my heart
As morning glories
Jewelled with dew
Electric energy, glacial blush
Reflected from mine zaffre soul
Clematis colored my Aster touch
I - a blend of Majorelle blues.
© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 2015.
Please note that the poetry is copyrighted by Law.
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Fairy thimbles = related to fairies
Aster flower = healing
Morning glory = borns in day dies in evening
Blue hibiscus = splendour , serenity
Clematis = mental power, courage faithfulness
Dandelion = happiness
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
Let my mind take a hike
Unhook mysteries then i hide
Make a wish i was blind
And i start to pretend
Okay now lets pretend i never existed
In which form would i have my life listed
Lets pretend i was born a girl
How many boys would i make their blood boil??
Now lets pretend i was never born black
Is there anything i would
lack?
Lets pretend i was never born in kenya or Africa
Could my young borns be freezing in Antarntica?
Okay now lets pretend i was neither a poet nor a writer
Would i be a potter or peoples right figher?
Lets pretend i never got the pen what would have made my mind sharp?
Now lets pretend i never met her and my heart never loved her
To who would i be writing these poems for?would i be a loner?
Now lets pretend you never saw this poem
Lets pretend you never gave my poem like
Would it mean its me or poetry you dislike?
What else would you be doing in internet except watching ****
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
Gift me books
Filled with stories of far away lands
Words of poetry overflowing in love
Gift me books
Anonymous letters of confession
Mythical tales of African tribes
Gift me books
Blank new borns
Filled to the spine with memories and dreams
Gift me books to fall in love with
Books to time travel into
Books to escape responsible madness
Books to share with my bros
Pages and pages filled with fascinating, inspiring, emotional simple words
Gift me a book
So we can share our worlds to form galaxies
Of trust. Hope. And love.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
(Poet’s Note : This poem is the first of two poems on The Nature of Truth)
Truth came from the purest of pure
smell of pine between toes endure
from crystal streams where trout shimmer
like rainbow dreams
from seagulls on wing, willow whisper then sing
deep down Poseidon takes his blue cue anew
She came from violet centres
floating in a bowl she enters
new-borns **** her milk rippling
down sunburnt throats
never forlorn, sailing a boat
Truth swoops her eagles over the Globe
travelling cyberways to hold her laughter
floating from Galactic Sun
Radiant across every gradient smiling
warmest sweet, tiny perfect teeth
gleaming in a tweet !
She came to stroke, sprinkle justice with
joy, transform lies with tears, lifting hearts from holes with bells on her toes
out of dirt, up the stairs eating mushrooms
with dare
breathe in human hair, listening to rolling
drums with care, ******* sweet nectar
She senses through many lenses
Truth comes to give Grace, sweetbreads
shout-outs, petals, stardust, eggs
across ages and aeons from Mercury
Venus and Mars to give answers in
glasses between shells from lagoons
Her breath smells of grass newly cut
exuberant nasturtium and lily in hug
conflicts melt away
Truth in a barn where couples lie
butternut soup on a winter’s table
where fathers laugh with a terrier
in good health, Siamese
purring on a persian rug
Truth completes a circle, opens up
channels joyously
¥
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 6:21 AM UTC
I maintain silence
I prefer better questions
I sleep I eat
I drink
I *** I ****
you do that too anyways
We could talk better
Some art curating
Or an evolving idea
I wish no wastage of words
no more energy waste
all that is done
All that has been done
Talk is for birth
for new borns
and for infestations
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
.......A Little Angel......
A little Angel borns today
A little princess walks today
A little girl dreams today
A little women persue life today
A little mother discover a new world today..
A Little is not only the word it is a discovery of a new life of thoughts to make it beautiful......
-Chirayu
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
I come from the low-downs,
The after parties and the mornings,
Tough to wake up from.
I come from fast, domestic cars
Driving ninety miles per hour
Away from problems
Down country back roads in Saxesville;
I come from beaten children.
I come from down under and up top-
Places where it would literally be
A miracle
To meet anyone new.
I come from a son and a daughter,
A brother and a sister- Friends
But only from a distance.
I come from moments where, suddenly,
It gets serious and quiet
And everyone stares.
I come from falling phonebooks
And martini glasses,
Dry, with two olives.
I came to accompany my brother.
I came from farmhands and family babies
First borns and middle borns
I came from children who grew up
Too fast.
I came from a man and a woman
And I came to find my own way
In lieu of theirs.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
Cold hydraulic hand drops her body
onto the bloodied floor–
pigs, sheep and other cows
thrown in a pile.
Hand the driver the paperwork,
plus the cheque, the charge to remove.
Pots of glue are cheap, leather jackets are not,
and not a penny we have made
from this black cow who in eight years
had seven expensive still-borns.
In spring she watched
as the other calves found their legs.
Felt indifference when the calves started school,
where graduation is awarded in three different categories:
medium, rare and well-done.
Her first calf, all red
bar a white tuft on his head,
killed her.
A lone magpie squawks from a bare tree
as I am handed my receipt. Record of transaction
if officials from the Department inquire
as to BNNZ-00-12T.
The calf looks on,
deteriorating behind a closed grey gate.
Snow briefly falls.
In the fields the sun casts long shadows
of trees and sheep. A breeze blows.
The work continues.
Next morning
no need for the chain
that dragged his mother with the tractor
to the concrete yard.
A length of rope will do.
Not yet a number in the system,
the only record of its existence–
a drag mark through the ****
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 2:17 PM UTC
I've been seeing
children breast feeding
their penurious newly borns
While poverty-stricken,
in the pit of their homes.
Others pursue death as their only hope.
It is hell i tell you,
These streets with charcoal
And gun smoke
drove my brothers and sisters
Into a deep dark hole,
where the cry of the lost
was never heard,
both had no drivers license,
So they smashed on thick walls
during their way back
home.
so we held sermons
and praised, we even worshiped
with faith songs
To harmonies their souls.
_
**** and ****
only paved the way
to the crucial storms,
we woke up yesterday it eroded
the soul out of her,
I tried to perform CPR
on her senseless brain,
but she was too deep to rescue,
This long road leads to lucifer's door
But their smoked minds
knocked maybe twice, or even more.
they couldn't heed from
the morns
Of the demons behind those dark ghetto edges
holding marijuana and silver guns on the other hand,
they hallowed for a hand, but too bad
we were too scared
they were already dead.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Daughter of Death Eaters
By Gemini Lestrange
My name is Gemini,
I am the daughter of a death eater,
And another one,
I grew up only being told that pure-bloods were better,
And that muggle-borns should die.
But I was never given a reason why,
It was always, we are superior
We are better,
We are greater,
We are grander,
I could on with adjectives that they used.
I always would ask why,
I never knew my parents,
They are locked up and the key was thrown away,
When I was young,
I was told the tales of their brilliance,
But I would ask them
How could they be brilliant if what they did got them put in Azkaban?
I was cursed for that,
Because being a child of a death eater,
Isn’t all sunshine and daisies,
We are curse if we dare question our parent’s beliefs
The beliefs that are imprinted on our heads,
From the moment we can start to understand.
It’s all we ever knew.
And then when we turn eleven,
And get sent off to a school,
Where all the things we are told to hate are there,
And when people tells us are beliefs are wrong,
How are we meant to respond?
I’m not saying we are right,
Because we are not,
But choice do we have, but to keep telling our self’s,
That are parents were right,
Because the ones who could help us turn us away,
They give us no choice,
But to go down the path of darkness,
To join the people we despise,
You say it’s our fault,
That we could have chosen differently,
But you don’t understand,
How you made us believe that was our only choice.
I am the daughter of a death eater,
And I will not go down that path.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
Sin breeds death expected life turns into still borns
No heart beat and no brain function
As the Father morns
A death sentenced placed on the first Adam
He wasn't the best Adam
So God send the perfected Adam
Birthed from the portal of a ****** Lady
Humanity could not cure itself
The world crazy from the bite like a bodies reaction to rabies
You see our righteousness is that of a rag
Soaked in the T-Virus
That's why the street filled with the walking dead.
But who can turn ****** into conception death to life
The one who willingly died
So we could reflect his light
Took the beating that was meant for us
The guilty acquitted. O.J. Simpson
The embodiment of true innocence
Marching with the thoughts of Trayvon Martin while we all are George Zimmerman
Dead in sin
At the crossroads of an eternal separation
The King on the cross with his shoulders separated
Arms open wide like I will accept this
Your accepted
His death looked like a curse
Satan like I'm victorious there's no question
But our God is sovereign
The Sun rose on the third day broke across the horizon
The son rose on the third day broke the back of the Leviathan
The slain lamb rose into a Lion
Mighty and meek
The everlasting King
Awestruck wonder as righteousness breathes
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
The daisies
I slit their throats
and made a
necklace out of
them and I
stuck them through
each other
I made a
ring for you
‘He loves me
he loves me not
he loves me
he loves me not’
last petal
plucked like
strangers on
the street falling
dead from
looking in each
others eyes
they die
she dies
cut a
hole between my lips
for you to spit inside
let it reside in there
my leaky cold cauldron
I’ll bathe in my
mouth
and touch myself
where you’d never
expect
like the nape of your
neck and anywhere
soft
could I find the soft
place on you
or have you
hidden it so well
that you’ve swallowed
it up
well spit it back
and into the
cracks my jaw makes
and I’ll shake with
pleasure while
you ignore me
I’ll adore you
like bone bone
shake
take me
with you
when you
go
I await you
like twilight
waiting for sun
everyone wants
your rays
spray them out
like spit
raining on only me
my black rain
cloud sounds like
still borns crying
from their mothers
mouths. KISS
ME. KISS ME
like mouths have
no other job
like lips came in
4’s split apart
then stuck back
together with
secret spit
from my mouth to yours
sit in my ear
and listen to
the daisies swinging
inside my head
heavy heads like
lead. all dead.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
*What is love?
Like the snow flake falling to the ground
A gentle yet subtle movement straight to the heart
Echoing within the valley of the soul
Christening the wings of the fragile butterfly
Love is the gentle caress of a new borns grip
The sound of the waves flowing slowly to the shore
The gentleness of the breeze as it slides across your face
What is love?
Love is gentle
Pure and divine*
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
Footsteps stomping so hard they send shards of the tile floor flying into the air
Hitting you in the face, you just brush them off
You don't hear me
I am setting bombs off in your backyard
Throwing rocks and dirt threw your windows
You don not come to see the wreckage I have created
I am screaming into your ear till my voices is cracking
You still will not hear me
I am nails dragging on a chalk board making myself cringe
I am a fork dragging on a plate in a quite room
You do not take notice
I am a new borns cry in the middle of the night
I am the screeching tires of a motorcycle going full speed down residential streets
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Eyes of coal that sparkle in the light
breathing through mucus they hide from sight,
******* the life out of us but their hearts beat dead,
their teeth stained yellow, vile hands stained red
*bullet wounds
gun shot holes
maggots and lice thriving
between fleshy folds*
disgustingly perfect, attached together with surgical seams
ripping minds open and feasting upon dreams;
Bogeymen of the new age, souls unjust and undone
an obscenity to all even Death does run -
*gods sinful monkeys and alien babies
fed with drugs and frothing with rabies
stealing new borns, fresh blood to medicate,
creating new gods to **** upon and hate*
the Beautiful People are back and more horrific than ever,
their grotesque masked with wax feathers
masquerading as angels, slyly drawing you in
corrupting your mind with mutilated sin
*everything makes sense in a senseless world
sanity insane, torturous, curled*
and as I look at their swaying fleshy folds
I fear for humanity, for what the blackened future holds -
incarnadine stained nails, rotted bones, lungs riddled with pus
yes the Beautiful People are abhorrent
but they're also one of us.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC
Most sought after #Naira is now in her gone glory.
The beggar despise her even on the streets of her country.
Oh! Who is gonna rescue her?
Like a rag, her eight borns surffers
The foreign currencies are now loved more as before
Anyone sent to rescue #Naira out there?
Let such tarry not.
..................................................................................................
..................................................................................................
..............................................................................................
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
Down in Piedmont park
lovers are necking
dogs panting
squirrels gathering
girls basking in the fiery sun
and film crews hustling to and fro,
down in Piedmont Park
the trees whisper words
to the poets curled up
on historic benches,
the grass brushes softly
under bare feet-
new borns giggling at the new feeling,
down in Piedmont Park
people live their lives
and offer little glimpses
to stories
so much bigger
than Piedmont Park.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
*I hate to think that someday I'll be no more
I hate to believe its the only tunnel to immortality
I loathe that the uncertainty is quite normal
And that never seeing you again is a possible eventuality
Because without you in it, it wouldn't be an after life
You have made this life a comfort midst the thorns
You have been my hook up every impossible cliff
The joy and the unbreakable strength in my borns
I fear to admit after my last breath I may never see this, your face
It's the most fascinating sunset I've seen throughout my journey
It's something I wish I find in Heaven or Hell, whichever place
If I hadn't met you I'd still believe the sweetest element is honey
I cannot stand leaving your smile curved downward
Yet that has to happen on my last goodbye
How can sadness be the ultimate and final reward
That everyone gives their soul mate when the time comes by?
I think I would want to kiss your lips in paradise after a million years
And to see you again after I'm gone, I'd cry a trillion tears*
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
SIDE A:
"boys of faith" : zach bryan, bon iver
"sun to me" : zach bryan
"ceilings" : lizzy mcalpine
"till forever falls apart" : ashe, finneas
"september" : james arthur
"the good side" : troye sivan
"before you go" : lewis capaldi
"wish you the best" : lewis capaldi
"those eyes" : new west
"next to you" : new west
"past lives" : borns
SIDE B:
"out of the woods" : taylor swift
"the 1" : taylor swift
"cardigan" : taylor swift
"right where you left me" : taylor swift
"maroon" : taylor swift
"blue" : ed sheeran
"page" : ed sheeran
Sep 28, 2023
Sep 28, 2023 at 12:53 AM UTC