A poem is a baby

Conceived in love

Nurtured with body and mind,

Fondled with gentle fingers, pats and palms;

Nip and tucked:

tiny ventures into untried places;

for the unexpected word

the joyous rhythm.

Changed repeatedly to stay fresh.

Adorned with props that support but don’t replace its essence.

Kept in a special place

where the dog can’t nose,

or the wind riffle,

safe from confusion and chaos,

lest it break or lose its way.

Circled with grace,

The center of eyes,


talked about, studied, examined,adored, smoothed, soothed.

Revised and fine-tuned,

then let loose,

let alone

to see what  it might do solo,

without  the thousand and one attentions and explanations.

A baby is a poem

PATTY 4/8/13


5 thoughts on “A Poem About Poems and Babies. And Drafting and Nurturing. The Same Thing, Mayhap?

    1. When our four kids were still here under our wings I actually thought of what we were doing as drafting, as in first draft, second draft, revision. That is, I had this image until I realized that when conceived as drafts, kids can become final versions suddenly and without warning.


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