My mother has been digging in her archives at home and found a couple of poems that I wrote when I was a teenager.
I began writing simple 4 line poems after studying poetry in Mrs. Harryman's 6th grade English class. She was one of my favorite elementary schoolteachers. I don't know what she saw in me, but she encouraged me to continue writing, so I grabbed a blank book and began to fill it with quotes, poetry I liked, and my scribbles.
Just so you know, the poem below does not come from experience. As a married adult, we lost a much wanted child through miscarriage and I experienced an entirely different emotion from the one I had imagined in this poem. As a young person, I liked to read and often experimented with thoughts I gathered along the way in poetry form whether as free verse, such as the one below, or in rhyme.
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A Babe is Born
By Dolores J. O'Neal-Rush.
A babe is born
In a cabin of the wilderness.
A midwife is bustling about
The fire under the mantle is crackling
The babe is in the mother's arms.
Babe's pang of hunger cries,
Mother whispers hush!
Babe's against thy mother's breast,
Pain is lessened next.
Coughing and choking,
They do all they can.
He took his last breath,
His suffering is over.
Thy mother is weeping softly
The tears of joy,
She is glad for him
Babe is in a better place
Babe was dressed in the finest calico they had,
They laid him under the willow tree by
a softly, spoken stream.
They erected a simple, wooden cross,
For they could not afford a stone.
There he sleeps.