Infant poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of infant poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on infant are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Birth of an infant is akin to that of a plant combination of sperm count results in formation of an infant planting of the seed and nurturing it results in creation of plant Infant grows in the womb of mother
A Newly born infant was ruthlessly abandoned on the street to face the vagaries of nature and fend for itself by its ruthless parents A good Samaritan took sympathy on the abandoned toddler and adopted the child and nourished the
Infant hardly know what is money Child hood is beauty without money Youth is filthy sans money Young age is a struggle to make money Middle age is meant to save money Old age can survive only with money Dead
Infant sees the light after staying in dark for 9 months in mothers womb Light dawns on birth and will continue through out life Light ceases after the death and has no role to play on the dead In between
On birth Infant enters the world with its heart beat yet to take off On a gentle tapping infant starts crying signalling the start of the heart beat Heart continue its beating non stop Every beat of heart adds to
The deafening cry of the infant and the tiring but resounding smile of the mother herald the arrival of the little cradle to this mystical world of umpteen wonder The creaking sound of the child’s crying,suddenly and abruptly ending, with
Windless dry air blankets the horn of this continent A familiar stare from large ebony eyes embedded in one cherished frame From the scorched earth an anguished image peers out with born innocence Simple wishes glimmer from sunken optic caves
Just like a Bonsai you stand strong and tall, Despite being just five feet tall. You rise high and refuse to yield, In rain and stormy weather, offering the best shield. You let us blossom and fruit, Ensuring we stay
(Recollections: Circa, 1999) Every time when I’d thought of ye My heart wondered – who are ye May be, ye: That first rain drop falling on a parched land That flower which blossoms in a barren soil That first vision
What is left to come across? everything seems to be lying open fatefully exposed before i could reach. Potbellied realities were reluctant to change they seemed to retire with confusions of shadows and full stops. There seems to be so
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
Our Life is woven around relationships Relationships are bound by stages in life An infant is bonded to its mother Kids mingle with fellow children Youths have proximity to friends Married couple share their Love with each other Professionals with
Birth is possible only on union of couple Fossils grow only in mother’s womb An infant sucks only the mother’s milk Boats can sail only on water Vehicles can move only on land Living beings can walk only on breathing
World of maze ? Fuzzy is the world about mess in the cosmos where the mass amasses gross income that almost abates the flux in values fore grounded in the spinals of mortals. Crazy is the youth on the online
Sleep is an everlasting wealth that never enchants a highway man who seldom fails to snatch anyone’s heavenly sound sleep. Sleep is a miracle that soothes the one who is deprived of worry the one whose life style is systematic
Blackened silence was holding the reflectivity, reality was on the run. Exile was complete. Dark secrets, standing on head remained buried in your chest absorbing all colors of sun. A night remembers the friends who went over the hills one
Just like mantises, hurrying to finish his last embrace, so to be taken by the husks of his beloved; Like a butterfly, flying to the sun, but hunted by a pale lamb hanging on the dust of the road; Like
To delegate death, a mirror condenses the human sorrow with an unclouded penury. The suffering competes with debt and pain, to find the difference between just and unjust. Prayer was not the full answer to cross the beyond of starvation.
The mysterious rival: suffering of resignation. I am reading myself for the surrealism of life, juxtaposition of love and hate. Another blast went off. White rose and black rose in the same garland; ruins of truth were older than lies.
All hail to a noble Saviour of low birth who lies in a cradle surrounded by beasts. The chants of joy and gladness from all the earth mark his lowly birth with wonderful feasts. All hail to our Lord whose
The yellow beaked vultures were waiting. A cloth bag contains the bleached remains; his father. Impeccable gift unmasked. After the inferno, hydrants went dry. The guilt survives the dispossession, pondering over the black dew now covering the pink roses. The
Sometimes, I just want to fly away and sit by a coast dotted with tiny creeks and gaze at the pebbles sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the stream while drenching my feet in water as pure as an infant.
Black skin glows Tough and toxic we are, The strength of the horse attached to the hoe of the earth. The black head is far from light, he said. The squirrel hole you should probe Our hunchback distinct theirs, Which
Often yet not frequent, I’d see this young delinquent, An exact image of whom I were most recent, So to say that I stare at my past thus avoiding myself at that instant. That very moment, Ne’er ought I insinuate
And so ’tis done – drench is gone Salted spray no longer flies the wild air That grim Tempest, that did wax and surge deep, now makes only whispered remembrance of its fury and troubles not the delicate house of
It was burning again like goldenrods in drift valley of ethnic hate. You start climbing down deeper in fear holding tight your identity. The anguish of ruined home under the shadows of bribed hands, runs on the bodies of pilgrims
The grey-haired die of hunger, the children’s’ store full of food, While still breasting, death snatches her mom, She faces the wrath of her step-mother, what crime is she paying for? While still nurturing her infant, the shadow snatches her
light frosting her lenses strobing as traffic flits by craziness of a zombie snail flashing visions of worlds as yet unbuilt just a woman dressed for winter striding proud in knee-length boots could be anyone then she’s gone these rapid
Polliver Plum picked up bubble gum And with it he wove a spell Creating a dome each child could call home Inside where the world was well He travelled the land with singers and band Attracting both girls and boys
Heaps of vehicles huddled together on the road Like a swarm of flies sitting on Jaggery to taste it People inside the vehicles are drenched in profused sweat Like frozen milk pockets as they are out of the Fridge. A