Sometime, Tomorrow

Babies are a nuisance.

They require I spend extra time,
Bottling my honesty,
To feed them slowly,
With excessive precaution.

Attention must be paid,
To dribbles on chins,
I must clean up,
When they simply,
Can't keep,

From spitting out bits,
Of it that won't fit,
In their mouths,
So underdeveloped.

Reviews

[leroyb]

The sense of frustration is conveyed well. Nice word choices, especially since the same description could be used to describe how cute babies are. That poem would not be as good. This might be me reading more than is there; but, If you are putting up with all this, is that love?

[Elephants & Coyotes]

Haha - yeah.
There's no redeeming aspect, because it is what it is.

Babies aren't gonna all of a sudden jump to maturity.
But, you're absolutely right - it can't help that it's dumb, helpless, and drools everywhere...though, at some point, they're supposed to grow up.

However, this is literally a piece depicting my frustration with the immature.
They haven't matured - I am still frustrated.

[Caleb Pendleton]

Hmm, suppose frustrating is frustrating. Good job transferring the feeling to us, though I must say I'm a bit concerned that there's no redeeming aspect to this story. But if that's how you feel, that's how you feel; just make sure you keep feeding that baby, it can't help that it's dumb, helpless, and likes to drool all over your clothes.