born in this world (a quatrain collection) by Toni L.A. Cross


born, birthed into  a dark place

squalling, hot tears on a red face

dirt, unresisting cradle of sod

cobwebs, spiders spinning a cap of lace


helpless, laying where angels dare not trod

waiting, hoping for some act of God

flailing, weak and stubborn little mite

strange, wee ethereal creature most odd


squinting, young eyes searching for first sight

knowing, somewhere there must be light

hope, in unlikely foreign ground

strength, unreasonable will to fight


patient, lying in a mound

pensive, listening for some sound

mystery, to simply astound

unknown, undiscovered yet renowned


New Life on a Frozen Morn: A Short Story, Written by Toni L.A. Cross 12/25/09

Her breath hung in the air for a millisecond before seemingly shattering into an icy shower. Everything was white, stark, and elegantly harsh.

   Footsteps crackled and a fine cloud of snow puffed up from her boots. GRRRRcccrrreeeaakk! The barn door slowly slid open. A tiny mouse skittered away from the light, a kernel of stolen corn between its sharp teeth. Inside, it almost seemed balmy compared to the frigid outdoors. Suddenly, a small weak cry came from the corner, answered immediately by the soft throaty voice of a mother goat. The girl hurried over to peer into the pen. A new kid! Shivering and wet, its mama nudged it with her nose. Frantically, she licked, trying to dry her young before it froze.

The spell of morning was broken. A whirl of straw-colored hair and parka flew into the house. Towels! Iodine! Hairdryer! Warm water! Pandemonium reigned in the farmyard as everyone bustled about like EMTs at a head-on collision. Every second counted.

Towels rubbed matted goat fluff, iodine sloshed the brand-new bellybutton, the racket of the hairdryer filled the small space, spooking the hens and making the new mom naa nervously.

Soon baby stood on wobbly legs. Tentative kid-lips tasted a swollen nipple. And then, a cautious suck, a first swallow. Little brown eyes came alive! Food! A little white tail flagged for the first time. Mama goat mumbled her encouragement and nudged her baby’s bottom, almost knocking it over in enthusiasm.

All the humans slumped in relief. The winter afternoon grew still again, but now, somehow warmth had stolen into the day.

Penta-Ciquain: Circle of Life, Written by Toni L.A. Cross 12/8/09

Hey everybody! Sorry for not posting for a while… its all the fault of the weather! We had blizzard conditions and went to hunker down with an elderly relative who doesn’t have internet.



brand-new life

kicking and screaming

foreign frightening noisy world




still breathing

gasping oxygen in

joyous thrills of adrenaline




connected hearts

pulsing beating rush

intimately becoming one being




fading gray

slipping away slowing

memories joy sorrow pain




ice cold

still and silent

not feeling anything forever



 This poem is part of an experiment I am doing to try out the different forms of poetry. Keep an eye out for upcoming attempts.


“Cinquain: This is another unique type of poetry style. As the name suggests, it is made up of five lines. The first line is just one word, which is often the title of the poem. The second line has two words which describe the first line. The third line has three words, and is mostly the action part of the poem. The fourth line is four words describing the feelings. And the fifth line, again, has just one word which is the title of the poem.”