So here we are again with more poems written by babies. (Their innermost thoughts are way more eloquent than you'd think.)
The Longing
Alas, poor man of grief am I,
well-acquainted with
the ecstasy,
the loss,
the longing.
The shiniest penny
ripped from your grasp
just inches from your lips
The bathroom door
slammed shut again
on your hopes and dreams
of splashing unfettered in the toilet bowl
and unrolling all the paper...
Cruel woman, why do you delight in my torment?
Foul temptress, why do you mock my pain?
For what is a home
full of detergent pods,
dog food,
and electrical cords
if one is not free
to quench his yearning
to taste them?
Yes, I know the aching,
the burning hunger,
the desperate desire to possess
those things
I can never have.
Well-acquainted am I
with the heartache,
the anguish,
the longing.
Ceiling Fan (a haiku)
Mesmerizing fan
Captivating me for hours—
Wait, are those my HANDS?!
A Ballad for Lunch Time
I think I'll start by dumping out my milk into my rice
and slapping the puddle with my palms. Why yes, that feels quite nice.
Next, I'll smash some peas up in my fists to make a paste
Which I'll rub into my hair and ears and all across my face.
When that gets sort of boring I'll try to start a game
of Peek-a-Boo but for some reason, you don't want to play.
It might be amusing to hear my bowl clatter to the floor...
(I was right, it was hilarious but you don't seem too sure.)
I slap away the applesauce and send it flying through the air,
Then accept an entire spoonful which I sneeze into your hair.
I admire your determination in trying to make me eat
but let's agree to disagree and you admit defeat.
I need a bath and you've got to change, which isn't that surprising—
it's just not my fault I find the food more fun than appetizing.
What would YOUR baby write about?
20 comments:
Hahahaha "The Longing" describes my child too well
Baby Beatniks. The best.
Your baby is officially the Poet Laureate of the US, since Maya Angelou has died.
Oh my gosh he ceeling fan haiku nailed it. My kid thinks the fan is some sort of higher being spinning for only his amusement!
Oh, washing machine, washing machine...
Wherefore art thou a washing machine?
Deny thy laundry and refuse my socks
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my ally
And I'll no longer be a mucky baby.
Love it! I think you should also look into greeting card poems, you have some serious skills lady! Your Haiku is top notch :) No wonder these were a hit!
Can I frame this and put it in my laundry room (read: laundry closet)?
lol That is some fantastic imagery right there.
Love! Too funny (and well-written!)
absolutely ;-)
Love these! It's very impressive the way you, I mean, your baby has managed to write in three very different styles and all of them capture the essence of baby thought.
Yeah, he's off writing something about the human condition in iambic pentameter right now. Not trying to brag, but we think we're going to skip the whole preschool thing and start applying to liberal arts colleges in the fall.
These poems are actually fantastic!
But also hilarious! The Longing is my favourite, so true. Haha
Sarah xxx
whimsicalmumblings.blogspot.co.uk
Oh, these are such a hoot! Our major tragedy of today was that I wouldn't let the baby hold sidewalk chalk in each hand while nursing outdoors. I suggested a rock, an acorn, ANYTHING but the sidewalk chalk that he would just end up smearing all over me... But it was like I was ripping out his toenails, he was so upset!!!
You are clearly the meanest parent that ever parented.
Brilliant!!
Fab poems Jenny! You're so creative. I LOVE the haiku! Brilliant :-) X #thetruthabout
"The Longing" is my 2 year old through and through! I find it hard to remember the days when he was amused by just his hands. Those memories have been replaced in my brain by ripped up books and food coloring in the carpet. 😋
Another post referenced today.
https://purpleslobinrecovery.wordpress.com/2016/12/14/evasive-eevans-events/
you, my dear rock. rock rock rock. (roses are red, and violets are blue. bob dylan should be, as sly as you.)
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