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You are here: Home / Poetry / Congenital Disorder- Request from Woeful Babies

Congenital Disorder- Request from Woeful Babies

Published by praveen gola in category Poetry with tag child | Hurt | Mother

Poems-On-Babies-new-baby-hand

Poems On Babies
Photo credit: bobby from morguefile.com

1.Test -Tube Baby – Poems On Babies

O’ Dear mom! O’ Dear mom!

Why You make me a cursed born?

Wherever I go……rumour  flows,

Look! Poor “Test-tube” Baby……There He goes.

 

Friends laughed at me….

Teacher tested me,

That I am the one….Whose,

IQ level is below averagely.

 

Test……..Test…..Test,

Made me a mocking fest,

That East or West……

Test-Tube baby is far from the Best.

 

God send me like a gift….

In your empty lap,

But this cruel world…

Hurt my feels with slap.

 

Some says- I’m like a “Tube”,

Whose bulb is always fuse,

Lewd comments……..Dirty sense,

Make me more confuse.

 

I surprise to see….

This 20th century brain,

Where modernity grows…

With mentality sane.

 

People never see the pain behind,

Which a lady suffer for motherhood,

Excess money,excess pain…..

Still her baby called as- “No Brain”.

 

Though medical science proves,

Fertility can happen with tube.

But How can our society cope up?

The “Burning Heart ” of a grown up.

 

Yes, I am a “Test-Tube” Baby,

A miracle of experiments,

Though process is artificial…

But a reality of sentiments.

 

So a message from my side-

Don’t demoralize my pride,

As I am the one….

Whose future is very bright.

 

Lets shake our hands!

And make me your friend.

I am like yours….

Whose birth is a well end.

 

2. Albinism – Poems On Babies

God O God! My almighty God!

Why you made me so odd?

I am an “Albinism” child….

Who suffers from photo phobia and light.

 

Wherever I Go……..

People laughed with a flow,

That He will be Blind…

When the Sun Decline.

 

“Surajmukhi” is a flower,

A flower that Blooms.

But I am the “Surajmukhi”….

A thorn that Pricks.

 

There is no treatment for “Albinism”,

As it is based on pigmentation.

An auto-immune disease against the melanocytes,

Which made my hair Brown and skin White.

 

But I am a normal child…..

So don’t treat me so wild.

The colour of my blood is same….

As Red as you have but in Dim light.

***

Read more like this: by Author praveen gola in category Poetry with tag child | Hurt | Mother

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