Musings of a feeding bottle

0C942A6A-D274-4E77-A7C0-B016DAFCBC4AI stayed on the bedside stand, waiting, waiting, waiting

Eager and rushed, meanwhile your glands are activating

The suckling is so rewarding, to hell with stares

To hell with stares, caring no more about public places

Enzymes confused with hormones, tears and gurgles

you lift up your chest, and determination into your journal

He absently brings the bundle to a cradle into your arms

One process which feeds itself, no law of diminishing returns

I can see you tired, often clumsy, ready to take a fall

Then an energy steps up a perk, ready for the next haul

Soldier like, sipping your anise water, settling the burn

Walk, talk, balk, puke, spooked turn by turn by turn

You built a life, now throbbing with brilliant spells

I stand enchanted, life nurturing life, beating rib cage

You sit cross legged, soon exhaustion is assuaged

Grueling cycles of sleeplessness, curled bodies aligned

I wonder why I would ever invade this abundant design

You have doubts I know, with a pressing urge to quit

That addictive baby smell, hypnotizes you to submit

I step aside, no tantrums, no ounces, no formula shed

Leaving you with your patience

And a curly head breathing at your chest



NaPoWriMo 2019

an unusual perspective

Published by Kashiana

I am a management professional by job classification and a work practitioner by personal preference. One poetry collection - Shelling Peanuts and Stringing Words and a chapbook, Crushed Anthills. Always gathering poems, and letting them marinate and change shape and form.

One thought on “Musings of a feeding bottle

  1. Life nurturing life is perhaps an addition to poetic expression.
    Baby feeding unassumingly describeb in details
    A sweet blend of acute observation and some new poetic expressions


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