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Conception

Conception

There
In seconds words birth
A phrase laboring me to pen
Anticipation of a perfect offspring
Contraction squint the mind for me
That shudders a intent, until
It flops on the page, kicking
Father critic oversee sternly 
At times pushing me to the side
I separate from a creator
A witness as it breathes 
The air is a  touch of  Intellect,  soft
It’s a raindrop in my lover eye
Or sharp carom in the back
Pain echoes for immortality
Joy wanting the freedoms lounge 
Clarity in the pitch black
Or the divine shine,
Like the lamp beside me.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 4/1/2010 2:40:00 PM
so this one is an instant favorite loved the imagery of your writing being a baby! they say that women are psycologically jealous of men for having penis' and men of women being able to give birth. to create life, this poem definitly sparks to life! no need for you to be jealous i guess.
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Date: 3/4/2010 10:19:00 AM
Beautiful poetry you have penned here and also love the end.. enjoy your night.:)
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Date: 2/17/2010 2:39:00 PM
Interesting concept friend, creative use of words...
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Date: 2/2/2010 7:03:00 PM
Ok, this was for the How Do You Do it...yes. I like the metphor and simile. I'm soup mailing you!
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Date: 2/1/2010 5:35:00 PM
Awesome imagery in this one Johnathon. A graceful offspring brought forth from between the knees.Smile, Sincerely, Moses
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Date: 2/1/2010 3:53:00 PM
Interesting comparation in the words that you have used. Keep the creative pen flowing. Sara
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