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On Being Born (Free verse) by emilyowey James, my baby, died one day
And love did leave me lonely.
He breathed one day and died the same.
I could not see the change.
He did not smile, as I once did,
On living one more hour.
Yet looked content in what he had,
And yes, he probably was.
Up the ladder:
Sudden Change
Down the ladder:
To Find Peace
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.0
Posted: September 4, 2004 9:47 PM PDT; Last modified: February 3, 2005 11:06 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.2384057 Overall Rank: 4115 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
[10]
horus8 @ 24.130.62.63
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4-Sep-04/10:29 PM
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This is quite possibly the saddest, and most precise poem I've ever read. I am so sorry.
[9]
Dovina @ 24.52.157.176
> horus8
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5-Sep-04/10:35 AM
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Please, at least point out the grammar and spelling.
I like this. Sad and lovely, in my eyes anyway.
Great. Are you really Emily Dickinson?
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