More poems about babies - 5

~ All poems collected (but not written) by Kathrine Jolle Wathne ~

The poems have been collected from different sources, and
unfortunately I have not always been able to find the author.
If you should know the name of any authors not credited;
please let me know!

Poems 1 - Poems 2 - Poems 3 - Poems 4 - Poems 5 - Poems 6 - Poems 7 - Poems 8

Our Baby

Time goes by we are curiously waiting for you to be born Seth! Anixously we are wondering what you will look like. Probally blue eyes, my feet, his ears, my hair. Special and sweet as candy and he will be such a dandy.

Treasure the moments with your baby they go fast and grow up so quickly to take pictures and enjoy your baby and make it last forever! The day you are born will be a very special day for mommy , daddy as we can't wait until you are with us. It will be blast and full of memories to last.

I love the way you make me feel when you are kicking, moving it is amazing feeling to feel! Hearing the heartbeat on the first sonogram and seeing the heartbeat beating on the screen we were blazed with excitement and amazed by the look of a human being inside of me! How exciting!

Draven

 With eyes that twinkle, twinkle so blue
You look at me, I look at you

 You are my love, my hope, my joy
You are my precious, sweet baby boy

I love you more than words can show
It hurts so much to watch you grow

I wish I could have just one more day
When you were so tiny with not much to say

I never knew someone so tiny, so small, so shy
Could make a man as big as your daddy cry

But the tears were always tears of joy
Every time he looked at his baby boy

The Gift of Life

Heaven sent
angelic and sweet
a bundle of joy
so precious and meek

 An answered prayer
a soul with a seed
to grow for God
and live for a need

Works of Almighty
from up above
meant to be
meant to love

 For you alone
are proof to show
there is a Lord
we all must know

Author: Stephanie C Brown

My Baby Boy and Me

Its 3 am they're all asleep
And no one's here to see
As we rock slowly back and forth
My Baby Boy and Me.

His little head is feather light
tucked up against my chin
I hold his tiny hand in mine
and stroke his baby skin.

The house about us creaks and groans
the clock hands creep around
He snuggles closer to me still
and makes his baby sounds.

I love these quiet hours so much
and cherish every one
store memories up inside my heart
for lonely nights to come.

All too soon he'll be grown up
his need for Mama gone
but until then I still have time
for kisses and for song.

Time for quiet hours like this
with him cuddled in my arms
where I wish he'd always stay
protected safe and warm.

And yet I know the day will come
when this tiny little hand
will be much bigger than my own
he'll grow to be a man.

But until then he's mine to love
with no one here to see
as we rock slowly back and forth
my baby boy and me.
 

~ Jane Triplett ~


Day One

 

Your eyes creep open like

Two tiny cracks in a china cup.

Your Fat fingers grapple air

Casting a spell.

 

Gigantic forms murmur and coo

As you pass day one.

Lazily you kick

 An imaginary balloon.

 

Satisfied, you close your eyes.

Silence surrounds your tiny frame

You sleep.

Day one is over.

 

Rebecca Patton

*BUTTERFLY*    
                                     ~~**~~**~~

                         Go to sleep my little baby    
                  go to sleep, butterfly.
                         Go to sleep my little darling 
                  sleep all through the night.
                          You're my little butterfly
                  so spread your wings, and fly tonight.
                          I'll come too,
                  just take my hand.
                          And we'll go to
                  that special land.
                          Where butterflies are free
                  not a hurt in the world.
                          Where everyone loves
                  all the little girls.
                          Where there's no pain
                  and noone is crying.
                          There's no drugs, jail or death
                  everyone is flying.
                          Where everything is right
                  there is no wrong.
                          Where everything is peaceful
                  the only noise is a song.
                          Just close your eyes                                
                  and you'll be there.                                    * * 
V   * *
                          Just promise me, baby                     *       *       *
                  you'll come back here.                                *          *
                          So dream away,                                *      *     *
                  my little baby                                                 *      *
                          Dream away,
                                    
~BUTTERFLY~

 

~ A MOTHERS LOVE ~

Dear First Born:

I've always loved you best because you were my miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage and the fulfilment of young love. You sustained me through the hamburger years, the first apartment (furnished in Early Poverty), and my first mode of transportation (feet).

You were new, had unused grandparents, and enough clothes for a set of triplets. You were the original model for a mom who was trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb, the open safety pins and three-hour naps.
You were the beginning.

Dear Middle Child:

I've always loved you best because you drew a tough spot in the family, and it made you stronger for it. You cried less, had more patience, wore faded hand-me-downs, and never in your life did you get anything first. But it only made you special.

You were the one I relaxed with, and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick. You could cross the street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married . . . and you helped me understand the world wouldn't collapse if you went to bed with dirty feet.

You were the child of my busy, ambitious years, and without you, I would not have survived the job changes and the tedium and routine that is marriage.

To The Baby:

I've always loved you best because while endings are generally sad, you are such a joy.

You readily accepted the milk-stained bibs, the lower bunk, the cracked baseball bat, the baby book that had nothing written in it except a recipe for graham-cracker pie crust that someone had jammed between the pages. You are the one I held onto so tightly. You are the link with my past, a reason for tomorrow.

You darken my hair, quicken my steps, square my shoulders, restore my vision, and give me a sense of humour that security, maturity, and durability can't provide. When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your own children tower over you, you will still be my baby.

. . . from a mother . . .

- Author Unknown -

 

 

 

I would write a poem of baby,

But there are no words that I know…

No notes to this music that sings

softly in my heart for my little one

                                    - Kristina Stein -

"Babies"
                                          By: Tonya Civiello
 
             I have a brother who is sweet,
             Some can be all so quiet
             But some can also have little feet.
             If you have a sibling love them well,
             They also will love you too.
  
             They are sweet, and loveable
             Some can be uncontrolable
             Babies are so precious
             So treasure them well!
  
             The first cry is the best
             They are way better than tests.
             So love them dearly
             And you will be so cheery. 

 

It seemed like forever,

waiting patiently, impatienty,

for you.

now we are here,

together

sharing bottles,, diapers,

and tears,

loving unconditionally

a person we just met

knowing already,our hearts belong

to you.

 

Written by Roxanne Lavallee
for my daughter Jayna

 

angel clipart

 

 

Monday's Child Is Fair Of Face

 

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child born on a Sabbath day

Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

 

- Author unknown -

 

~ NIECE ~

Will you bring us happiness?
Or will you bring us pain?
Will the skies be baby blue or clouded up with rain?
These are questions we ask ourselves repeatedly
throughout the day
ever since we realized you were on you way.

 Choose any day you wish from
the whole month of July,
when you decide your ready
we'll all be standing by.

So you've chosen the month of August,
to us that is just as well,
take all the time you need,
we can't wait to hear you yell.

 Welcome to the world my fine young niece,
our fears and anticipation are gone.
I was convinced you'd bring us happiness,
I'm glad I wasn't wrong.

 - Ginger Lee -

 

Poems 1 - Poems 2 - Poems 3 - Poems 4 - Poems 5 - Poems 6 - Poems 7 - Poems 8

Do you have any poems about babies and/or children?

I would be very grateful for any contributions to include on this page!

Ó Kathrine´s Pregnancy Pages - made by Kathrine Jølle Wathne