Best Childbearing Poems
True Valentine
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
A lost woman the mirror reflects
Young; and it’s apparent
I can see it in her eyes
No focus and childbearing
Just ass, legs, and thighs in mind
No marriage
If she knew better
Learned better; and
Wanted better,
He would show her a better way of living
Instead of dealing with cowards
Seek a man with moral and merit
He’s stealing your joy
He’s bringing you pain
Removing your youth
He’s playing games
The truth at heart is
Reality should be your first thought
Loneliness is not your fault
It’s a part of life for most
Don’t let it destroy your values
Just wait,
You’ll find a true love to treasure you.
" Lady Heroes ... "
Sarah, In Her 90th Year Stage
Was Way Past Childbearing Age
But Just Like Her GOD Conveyed
Sarah, Got A Miracle Wage!
Sarah Shined ...
Rachel, Too Had Long To Wait
To Her, It May Have Seemed Late
May Even Have Given Up On That Date
But When It Happened, It Was Great!
Rachel Shined ...
Leah, Was The Wife, Less Loved
So She Knew The Heart-Pains Of
Keeping Patient, While Bearing Up
and Leah, Was Blessed From Above!
Leah Shined ...
Esther, So Humble, Had Risen Far
To Help Lift & Cast Off Her Peoples Bar
And On Every Purim of Adar
Lovely Esther, Still Shines Like A Star
? ?
So, If You Have To Wait In Line
Until It's Time To Fully Shine
Remember No Matter How Far You Go
GOD, Can Make You ... A Lady Hero ...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Mary, Accepted What Was Odd
Even Tho' She Knew It Would Be Hard
and Became Mother of Our Lord
She's A Shining Slavegirl of GOD ...
Mary Shined ...
? ?
So, If You Have To Wait In Line
Until It's Time To Fully Shine
Remember No Matter How Far You Go
GOD, Can Make You ... A Lady Hero ...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Just Like Jael and Deborah
Lady Heroes
Like Abigail and Lydia
Lady Heroes
Like Ruth, Naomi and Rebecca
Lady Heroes
Like Elizabeth and Hanna
Lady Heroes
Like Mary and Martha
Lady Heroes
Like Eunice, Lois and Priscilla
Lady Heroes
even Like Rahab, Synteche and Euodia
(Yes, They're Lady Heroes)
and May You, Your Daughters & Mommas
Shine and Be ... Lady Heroes ...
Written & Copyrighted ©: 1/1/2014
by: MoonBee Canady
I am woman and I have borne the Torah on a gold cloth
over my shoulder.
I have consecrated its dust-leadened parchment,
cradling the scrolls into temple darkness...
clicked-shut the doors, saddened and empty.
I am of childbearing age...
I am crimson with life.
I have touched the Ark.
I have read the Covenant.
I cannot lighten the laws of heaven.
I have nothing to do with clouds or sin, but
I could have shown them where Eden was hidden...
the forgotten way going home again.
I have caressed the male god on his couch
in a ghost-haunted room, a candle-dark room...
remembering a soul, but eyes with no spark.
I have soothed his forehead in the dead hours,
softening his terror, silencing his scream,
'Mother, do not leave me again'.
I cannot replace the laws of heaven.
I have nothing to gain from angels or sin, but
I put him on the road to Eden...
the long-hidden path going home again.
I am woman and I come adorned with a
Mitre of thorns.
I own salvation, blessed and chaliced...
giving to sinners,
selling to saints.
I have witnessed the sins of gods.
I have dried the unwarranted tears of Eve.
I have confessed and absolved the dead.
I will not revise the laws of heaven.
I will not tamper with death or sin, but
I will wait for you in Eden...
at the end of the road going home again.
I'm building a spaceship in my garden shed
From old bits of second hand cars
It's due to depart in a couple of months
Not to Uranus,Venus or Mars
But far further away in the cosmos
Lies a planet quite similar to Earth
With an atmosphere simply to die for
Yes it's Kepler dash 186f
There room for at least a dozen or so
And I'm currently making a list
Of some of my friends who might fancy the trip
But I think I will have to insist
That they bring some warm clothes for the journey
Some sandwiches, cakes and a flask
'cause five hundred light years is quite distant
But I think they'll be up to the task
I'm obliged to ask Peter and Suzy
Well they asked us for Christmas last year
And Bill and Claudette from the Alderman's Arms
I could put them in charge of the beer
There's Mary and Phil, they're already an item
There's Vera McKinlay and Brent
Then there's Tommy and Sue, I just had to invite them
As Tommy's the one with the tent
I've ensured that they're all of childbearing age
And I'll pair them all up from the start
And I'll seat them together to help them
get familiar before we depart
Then as soon as we land on the planet
We'll get down to the business in hand
And in no time at all there'll be hundreds of us
To develop our new wonderland
So I'll soon have the craft fit for lift-off
And I've filled up the rockets with gas
And I'm sure they'll withstand the explosion
Cause I've used only best fibreglass
Then as soon as my crew are assembled
And the satnav is fitted and primed
We'll be heading for Kepler dash 186f
And one more giant step for mankind
WOMAN'S WITS
By Ronalyn M. Pupa
“There is a woman in the house!”
She is the man’s partner and supporter,
Maintains household’s peace and order,
Alone or with you, stands still in all the crises forever,
She is the everybody’s MODEL.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She patiently teaches the young the basics,
Discovers and nurtures child’s special traits with her tactics,
Personality is shaped through aptitudes and attitudes mystics,
She is every child’s first TEACHER.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She ensures the new wealth is health mindfully,
She organizes the home and its activities accordingly,
Family has proper food, enough sleep and rest daily,
She is the family NURSE awakes around the clock.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She turns home into different places artistically,
She varies interior design and arrangement magically,
Home becomes an inviting, restful and cheerful place instantly,
She is the best homeowner and MANAGER.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She manages and uplifts the income of the family,
Receives husband’s salary yet wise in spending money,
Prioritizes necessities, comforts than luxury,
She is the TREASURER handling the family treasury.
“There is a woman in the house!”
Skilled in childbearing or rearing as home’s central personality,
Instills the habit of self-control, tidiness, diligence, honesty,
You turn to her for a never-ending understanding and sympathy,
With an incomparable love from womb to tomb, amazing MOTHER forever.
“There is a woman in the house!”
There is a woman working and leading elsewhere,
A woman who conquers struggles and reigns everywhere,
With passion and commitment in her career,
Oh, woman! everybody admires your wits and power.
It isn’t hard to find a heroine
among the women that one knows.
God had enough faith in their valor
to trust them with childbearing woes.
There was an outstanding heroine
in the news when I was young,
of whom the praise was endless
and admiring songs were sung.
Aviation was still in infancy.
Planes had barely out-grown their pedals,
when Amelia Earhart was crossing oceans
and winning high flying medals.
There was one first she hadn’t claimed,
first woman to fly around the world.
They feted her before her 1937 flight
with pride and the flag unfurled.
She and her navigator, Fred Noonan
had all but reached their destination,
when their plane simply disappeared.
They were mourned by the whole nation.
She had promised her loving husband
she would quit after she flew it.
Though well aware of the danger, said,
“I want to do it just in order to do it.”
Written May 25, 2012
Airing my opinion to my wife.
Daring to suggest another child,
Caring for the family I loved,
Sharing our noble thoughts, she smiled.
Where would we find enough to live on,
Aware of all the needs for us to care?
Dare we tempt our God with our needs?
Prayer, we said and went to our lair.
Salacia
Where two mountains almost meet, there is a canyon
Of boulders and unfriendly nature, such as thorny bushes
And self-hating trees and among thistles, snakes roam
It was there in a deep cave the lady of clear water lives
She is Salacia, the goddess of spring water and rivers
Where salmons thrive, and trout wake at dawn
Myth has it the mountain woman had wide hips made
For childbearing and undiluted frizzing of lovemaking
Naturally, any young man wanted to conquer her love
To get to the god who had the key to the origin of water
To meet and drown in the bosom of spirituality was
An adventure only the bravest dared to risk their life
Torn to shreds by bushes, snapped by the branches of
Tree of hatred, and to avoid snakes and scorpions too
Much bloodied, they came down from the mountain
It is said a few met the Salacia, who avidly loved them
Sated, she threw them into the river ending at the ocean
For Poseidon, the king of Briny, to find her an answer
2.03.09
Two women -
Two women who've lost Him,
Lost Him once and for all.
You - through the pain of childbearing,
I - through cruelties of love...
Two women -
Two women who've lost Him,
So close and yet so far apart -
So uncompromisingly different
With the very same pain in their hearts...
And even though I may not know You,
Before You I'd stand in deep awe -
You gave me true Hope, always precious -
You gave me the man that I love...
[Dedicated to the Mother of my still beloved A.K...]
Conceived In Sin -
Cincinnati, Ohio
(most Up To Date Virgin)
Any attempt for fecund woman
to successfully counteract biologic
reproductive force to whit
deserves grudging testes
meant to garner at least tidbit
sans, ejaculated kudos (by Dickens),
where aborted squirt,
viz skin flute, gets writ
off as sad sack pit
tiff full seaman unwittingly spit
outside sought after vasocongestion
swollen phallic doth intuit
thwarted down thrust trend,
where offspring of genetic
inheritance since Eve soffit
a dam nibble prickly outcome
braking abrupt copulation,
where half cocked drill bit
attempts to hit
bulls eye included with animalistic kit
and caboodle born toward illicit
propagation of species,
this indomitable overbearing gen nit
till foreplay to liberate dill lib writ
lee, pointedly and instinctually
continue human race,
where a bajillion threads did knit
world wide web steeped with lit
richer replete with orgiastic nit
tee gritty prurient details
recounting bacchanalian debauchery
nun such breakable classless habit
ah what a dog send to gift
and empower women to inhibit
unwanted pregnancy (of childbearing age)
equipped with superhuman heft quit,
while erect phallus unable to lyft
uber penetration, no doubt miffed,
especially in throbbing throes far drift
from coital provenance, one agitated fitbit
feeling royally screwed
particularly virility predicated
on loose sing penile glue stick
within secrete slit.
Tristan's Torment - The Villanelle Of The Butterfly
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
It was just so thin and daring
Never had he known anything so dry
It's morning, Tristan encountered a butterfly so wry
He found himself feeling rather overbearing
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Later, Tristan was spooked by an eye
He tried to focus on a meringue
Never had he known anything so dry
Charlotte tried to distract him with a fly
Said his mind had become too wearing
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Tristan decided to do something high
The butterfly was like a toxic childbearing spider
Never had he known anything so spry
Tristan nosedived like an intense oh, my
His mind became dangerously raring,
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Never had he known anything so dry
4/20/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
LOVE’S APPLE RED LIPS
At night the horse appeared dark.
It stared like a dead man -
perhaps into the pit itself.
During the day - -
Up and down, he would go,
and children would hang on.
Mysteriously, the devil himself
unassembled the amusement ride.
Tired and bored he went home.
The horse lay on his side -
as if suffering, ailing, in a
cardboard box green with mold.
One day the devil arose,
after resting in fire and gloom,
and spied a couple in love.
The serpent began to whisper in
Eve’s ear, for he loved her name, for
great harm, he inflicted her namesake.
Like the Eve before her, curiosity drew her.
Evil pointed to the old cardboard box,
and she inclined her ear too closely.
“We must put this carousel back together!”
Her beaux thought her a bit too excited,
but he pulled out his tools, Adam once again fooled.
That night the horse stared straight through Adam.
He shivered. He dreamed. He shook it off.
“Hop on the horse,” said she.
Not wanting to disappoint, he climbed way too high.
She loved his new prominent spot, elevated above the park.
“You look so regal! All the guys will be jealous!”
Eve never spoke to him this way. It scared him a bit.
“Tally-ho!” She said as she released the lever.
“Won’t you join me, Eve?”
He thought he heard a hiss! Shook it off!
His imagination galloped.
Up and down, round and round.
Like the first bite of an apple,
he felt a crunch, almost like a hickey kiss
“Eve, I’ve been bit!”
“Adam, don’t be silly! Enjoy the ride!”
He seemed to sleep after a couple rounds.
Eve thinks he must be comfortable now.
So in love, Eve - with her gorgeous golden hair,
her apple red lips, her childbearing hips.
She comes to her senses too late.
Adam slides to the ground.
She shuts the old ride down.
Eve runs to his side.
The horse has turned pale with envy.
His eyes on fire as Adam’s stare into eternity.
Eve’s tears burn and sting like hell itself.
She hears a laugh emit
from the horse’s mouth
sounding something like a hiss.
4/7/2017
Nayda’s Urban Legend Contest
From: urbanlegendsonline.com/the-merry-go-round
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday.”
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's imbolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
Three Cheers To Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
Momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday
during month of May
can be traced back
to ancient Greeks and Romans
devotional festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday,”
the other three hundred
and sixty five or six,
when leap year occurs,
especially Jewish mothers smother
also manifest courtesy
eldest sister or brother.
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis
(a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught era also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
childbearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's embolden
greeting card companies
such as Hallmark generated a market
(money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed
companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea
of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the vulgar appetite
of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed,
fêted, lionized, revered re:
formed unsanitary
squalid living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where
greater longevity doth hum
bull all because, she sought to regale mum
(mine) deceased after rigor mortis
immediately thereafter her sole son
found himself saddened severely glum,
and uncomfortably numb.
Like hungry wolves with ribs showing, men huddle at her heels.
Waiting for any little drop of inspiration from her paintbrush.
Like a wet dog shaking its coat droplets spray everywhere.
Bluffing they have the power and not the need.
Every woman has mother's potential for nurturing , feeding , nourishing.
Where does Inspiration to paint come from? Why is painting sacred?
Why are they so hungry for mother's attributes and blessings?
Is it because she is a creator , to carry and grow a soul inside her?
To carry , bear nurture and raise many souls for generations to come.
So then how is painting and creating akin to the creation of childbearing?