Best Cramps Poems
Cramps creeping and crawling,
an unwelcome reminder.
Why does my body betray
me like an unfaithful secret lover,
chaining me to my bed.
When did my uterus become my enemy,
even the pills offer no sympathy.
As a contradiction of contractions,
crush my organs like sharpened
shards of glass, these strange
territories tighten like heavy torture,
as linings of sore pelvis feel
a tugging pain of shame.
Unable to distract this
typhoon-like monstrosity,
I'm a hostage to
this turbulent intruder.
For those who question body
frames that do not beam,
my frowns are not an option,
they are a veil to the weight
of excruciating fatigue
that feeds the sanity in me.
There's no 'super human' strength
left to curl my fingers into
brass knuckles holding my
burning edges in peace.
Drained by the cries that
crack the surface of my womb,
agitation is expressed
in begrudging outbursts!
Unexpected and unpredictable
pain is a cureless curse,
behaving erratically within
a finely constructed system of tubes.
Once again, I wonder if
this shall be the month that
validates my womanhood.
There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
and at night sometimes he visits me.
His attacks to my thigh
make me think I might die.
Wild "Charley Horse" acts horribly.
For he comes out of nowhere, so fast!
And he brings a sharp pain like a blast.
I scream like a loon
hit by a harpoon.
Then my husband awakens aghast!
But my hubbie can’t help me. That horse,
though invisible, has such great force!
How I love my reprieves
when the little beast leaves.
But his kind never stays gone, of course!
My poor calf he attacked in a pool
while I swam, and I felt like a fool
as I floundered around.
Well, I could have drowned!
He’s a mean little horse and a ghoul.
He’s got kin, and they all like the game
of bringing folks pain. One has fame
of attacking your womb
in a hospital room.
Now THAT one puts Charley to shame!!
By Andrea Dietrich
(note to those who do not know this common
American expression: Charley Horse is a leg cramp
and all the his kin are assorted types of cramps!)
For PD's "Any Poem Goes" Contest
A Special Poem For Older Folks
A row of bottles on my shelf
cause me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill, I have to pop
goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take
goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
and tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all,
go to my blood, so I won't fall.
The orange ones, big and bright
prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills
helping to cure all kinds of ills
but what I'd really like to know...
Is what tells each one where to go!
My story is quite simple
My husband and I had been faithfully
Correctly using birth control for almost 13 years
We’d forgotten it only once
Resulting in the birth of our second child in 2005
However, in spite of proper use
Birth control failed again in 2015
After learning I was pregnant for the 3rd time
My husband and I sat down to discuss our options
What a new child would mean for our family
Money was tight, our marriage was struggling, and at nearly 40
I didn’t feel that I could handle another pregnancy and childbirth
At the end of our discussion
My husband said,
“We’ve never considered this before, but do you want this child?”
I replied simply, “No.”
He said he didn’t either, but that he’d support any decision I made.
At the end of our discussion
Even though it was his child
He recognized that the decision was ultimately mine
Living in Nevada, we didn’t have to deal with unreasonable restrictions
There were no protesters to meet us at the clinic
The only obstacle we faced
No providers in the area took my insurance
We had to pay the $500 out of pocket
I made the appointment for that Thursday
So that I wouldn’t miss any work
Less than a week after discovering I was pregnant
At the clinic
I received a trans-l ultrasound to verify how far along I was: 4 weeks.
The blastocyst was about the size of a sesame seed
Exactly what it looked like
At such an early stage
A medical abortion was my only option
I took the first pill at the clinic
Was told most women don’t start bleeding heavily
Until after taking the second pill the next day
I’m not most women
Started bleeding heavily enough
I had to leave work early Friday
The pain didn’t start until after I took the second pill
It hurt, but was no worse than cramps amplified by food poisoning
I was glad for the pain medication the doctor had prescribed me
Then, it was over
I bled for about 3 weeks and then everything returned to normal.
I admit some initial doubt that we were making the correct decision
Was willing to accept that doubt
After about a year, that doubt has disappeared
During the process
I didn’t feel alone because my husband was right there with me
This happened to me twenty-two years ago. I thank God I am still alive.
I feel the ripple in my life's cycle,
impending risk that could rape my soul.
I look in the mirror, but no tears flow.
A virus cramps my shallow feelings,
an ominous glare that obscures.
The pungent smell of disinfectant
the impersonal looks of nursing aides,
the indifference of certain medics,
the fearful looks of other patients,
the smell of living death.
The surgeon comes,
examines,
prods,
feels
listens.
Like an auctioneer's hammer,
going, going, gone.
The verdict is announced,
a triple by-pass,
serious but operable.
"Don't worry, man!"
I look up at the wall
that surrounds my cell,
and see Him hung
on old worn wood.
Is it so difficult, Lord, to die?
Am I on my own in here?
Will I survive?
A tear trickles slowly down my cheek,
but now my inner self is lit.
I wake up from my stupor.
Life is a pattern,
mapped 'til our death,
but no man walks alone.
I smile,
I receive faith.
A glow illuminates my soul.
Tomorrow I may be dead,
but I am sure, Sweet Jesus,
I will survive, for meekly
I accept Your will.
~ As early nightfall tousles my hair prism light,
the alchemy of a ceremonial parade begins
in this panel of a forest like a mystic scene
~ fondling my skin…jutting from nowhere,
a relay of tigers and flamingos swivel
on glowing shafts in the pale dark ... I freeze.
Some quick time frames away, the jungle rises
with raw stirrings of wildlife; an explosion
~ from a world curving a zebra's flowing movement
of unrehearsed art, of twilight spontaneity
~ oh so blind to human, mental gazes;
they slide away from such calculated moments as
.~ my body enters their changing symmetry
collapsing in mindless trance that nothing
from my eyes is ever hidden, not even the low
gushing in my breath… I shut my lids to memorize
the anatomy of their kind faces, those rising limbs
simply estranged from rehearsed gaiety.
And I seize their impressions defying the seeming
~ cramps of man’s robotic strides;
yet, i cannot hold them inside this head’s waves
~ of memory , consumed with the grace displayed
by creatures’ unbridled rites to its gods…
I become the humble slave of divine beasts.
`~ ~ ~ ~``
*from my journal about a night safari in Singapore
for Debbie Guzzi's Etcetera by nette onclaud
MOTHER
Never Drank Gin in the Morning
My Mother… never drank!
“Cotton Gin” came to her mind,
when she heard the word Gin.
In stores…Gin never find.
I too, just like Mother
my strongest drink iced tea.
When stronger drink took sip
weird warmth.. came over me.
As, N.Y. designer !
Lemon, lime drink thought try,
Called a “Margarita,”
drank three.. and “Prayed to die!”
Husband will sip Bourbon
stronger, than perfume I wear.
I simply can smell it,
and swear..”.I drank my share.”
Unlike Mother, I drink wine
before going to bed.
Imagine where it goes?
Directly to my head!
At night had bad leg cramps
gave my specialist a call,
“Add Gin to you Tonic”.
Cramps gone..too tipsy.. might fall!
Mom drank, no alcohol
Life taught me.. enjoy mine.
All with “Moderation”
when Paul brings me.. Gin or Wine.
Feb. 28, 2018
One by one
They come and go;
Bus-stop blues
On the way out,
Smile as you go;
Embrace forgetfulness
Surge of passion
No need to feel;
Go with the flow
Bedtime stories
We swop tales;
Laugh stomach cramps
Basketball court,
Two sides stalking;
Win-win losing
Cable TV
So much to see;
Time fritters away
Hypermart queue
Long as usual;
Impatient sighs
I see you,
You see me;
No need to talk
Roadside beggar
Asks politely:
Please help me
Alleyway music
Lone troubadour;
Straining guitar chords
By and by,
How and when;
Nobody stops
Leon Enriquez
29 Mar 2014
Singapore
Tim had all the necessary ingredients right next to his ancient burner
Shark teeth dangling from a sunken necklace at the cutting edge but
The amulet had turned into chains and shackles grinding the chef’s mind
A lost recipe for happiness but and he had no appetite for nourishment
Attrition boiled over when nutrition resembled a poisonous chalice
Too tired to take stock he dwelled on his primordial soup turning back
Primitive and involuntary he turned on the gas and smelled his demise
Rotten onions had depleted his tears thinly sliced and disguised
Fetid leeks leaked misery a trickle or two at full stagnant pace
Spoilt thyme oozed malodorous rosaries into beads of corrosion
Squashed tomatoes splashed foul decomposition into his eyes
Fennel funneled his vision into a bubbling hell of indigestion
Olive oil splashed straight into his heart with no glimmer of peace
Cantankerous garlic would not fend off his festering demons
While a bay leaf could not keep mortally morose sadness at bay
Great white oblivion but slowly Tim made friends with predation
Resolved he was allergic to fishy feelings and toxic distaste
He did not remember at first how to simmer emotions and passion
But onions started to sprinkle tears of joy and the shark pointed the way
Soon leeks from a Welsh legend delineated friend from mal-aligned foes
Thyme soothed his splattering cough and he found his true inner voice
Tomatoes seeded bright red orange chakras from base to the top while
Fennel fought of bloating depression and conquered agony’s cramps
Previously oblivious oils from virginal growth re-birthed him into life
He licked his wounds and wild garlic from an ocean of wonderment
And chose the berries from a long forgotten and noble laurel tree
Tim had barked up the wrong perspective and had muted the roar
Eventually he conjoined ingredients recipe and fortunate blessings
Left the sharks out of the chowder and slurped smooth soup into his shell
early nightfall fondling skin
on glowing shafts from a world
so blind my body enters
cramps of memory
Writing Challenge-Dodoitsu Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France 10/01/2020
Love of Literature
Upon the nightstand rests my favorite book,
I beckon her to bed to have a look.
Anxious anticipation flutters in my chest,
As the day's worries and woes, are laid to rest.
Tenderly, I take her in my hands,
Caressing her cover, she knows my plans.
Lightly yielding as we take our place,
Willing and submissive, with gentle grace.
She's a beauty, in her soft subtle veil,
Gently, my fingers trace her textures, an ardent braille.
I know her body—every peak, every valley, a touch sublime,
Tracing her contours, along the edge, then down her spine.
Pulse quickening, eager mind,
Awaiting the adventure that lies inside.
With delicate fingers, I find my bookmark,
With heightened anticipation,
I spread her pages apart.
An intoxicating aroma fills the night air,
A sweet, savory bouquet, found in classic books so rare.
From the outer page, my finger glides,
All the way across, till I'm just inside.
With a soft, tender touch, I navigate the crease,
Gently pushing outward, tensions released.
With attentive focus, all the way down to the end,
Traversing to the other side, to start again.
Her soft, thin pages, a silky, delicate skin,
A gripping story, further drawing me in.
With the flick of my tongue, I wet my fingertip,
And turn the page with a single finger flip.
Chapter 3, it's just her and me.
Enchanted by her sultry love story,
Hopelessly entangled in her romantic glory.
Page after page, we're intimately engaged,
With kinks and cramps, our positions changed.
Playful paragraphs in passionate positions—
Quite the literary expedition.
Steamy, sensual sentences scintillate the senses,
Trembled? Or trembling? Lost all track of tenses.
Her sensual story, passionate and deep,
Inviting me in further, tonight we do not sleep.
Captivated by every line, savoring every word, I take my time.
Two souls entwined, one rhythm and one rhyme.
Dawn's rays through the window gently creep,
With a sigh, I slowly close the book, softly she weeps.
"Rest assured, my darling, you'll be alright,
For I'll see you again, another rendezvous tonight."
Of all my cherished tomes, she'll always be first,
My love of literature, an unquenchable thirst.
WHOA!!!
I say loudly
As she passed me by
Girl,
You look like Marilyn Monroe
Glamorous through my eyes
Her shirt was black
With spaghetti straps
And a white tee underneath
Tight beige pants
Turning heads, causing cramps
I hear someone grinding teeth
OH,
That's me!!!!!
Jared Pickett......09'
A Marriage Creed
So now my little Man, you've gotten tired of grass"
LSD, goof balls, hash" and pills. Someone pretending to
be your friend - decided to introduce you to me,
Miss Heorine.
Well honey, before you start fooling around with me, just
let me inform you of how it's going to be. I will
seduce you and make you my slave, I have send men
much bigger than you to their graves.
You think that you can never become a disgrace and end
up like poppy seed waste. You will start inhaling me one
afternoon. You will take me into your arms very soon and
once I have entered deep down in your veins - the craving
for me, will drive almost insane.
You will need lots of money ( as you have been told ) for
darling - I am much more expensive than gold. You will
swindle your mother and just for a buck, you will turn
into something vice and corrupt. You will rob and steal
for my narcotic charm and feel contentment when I am
in your arm.
The day you realize the monster you have become - you
will sollemly promise to leave me alone. If you think that
you have that mystical knack - than darling just try getting
me of your back.
The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied up in a knot, the jangling
screaming for just one more shot. The chills and cold sweat, the
withdrawls pains can only be cured by my little white grains.
There is no other way and there is no need to look, for deep
down inside you'll know that you're HOOKED. You will despertely
run to the pusher and then you will welcome me back to your arm
once again and when you return ( just as I foretold ) I'll know that
you'll give me your body and soul.
You'll give up your morals, your consceience, your heart and you'll
be mine untill DEATH do us part...
)2/26/2014
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Note: This will be the last poem that I'll
write on this. I don't want to bore you.
I just feel that more people need to know
about this problem...
So now little lady, your tired of hash, cocaine, LSD, downers and grass,
Then someone pretending to be genuine introduced you to little miss heroin,
Well honey before you mess with me,
Just let me tell you how it will be,
For I will seduce you and make you my slave,
I've sent much stronger people than you to there grave,
You'll start inhaling me one afternoon,
Then you'll take me in your arms very soon,
And once I've entered deep in your vein,
Your life will never be quite the same,
You'll swindle your family just for a buzz,
and end up with many visits from the fuzz,
You'll mug and steal for my narc tic charm,
and you'll feel content with me in your arm,
The day you realize the monster has grown,
You will silently swear to leave me alone,
Well baby, just try getting me of your back,
The vomits, the cramps, your guts tied in knots,
And trembling nerves scream just one more shot,
Then you'll welcome me back in your arms,
As a foretold, you'll need lot's more money and much more gold,
For now my darling, I've captured your heart,
And now you'll be mine,"till death us do part".
Remember that familiar old saying
“Let your wind blow free”
Well I've thought of a much better idea
Beneficial to you and me
The methane gas we produce each day
Could fuel factories for hours
They could install a crepitating room
They'll need a bunch of flowers
You may think I'm obsessed with farts
And other bodily emissions
But the huge benefits could even rival
The power of nuclear fission
No more problem with soiled Jockeys
It would stop the stains in your pants
And possibly be a way to finally alleviate
Those horrible nighttime cramps
The future shortage of fossil fuels
Would no longer worry mankind
All the world's economies would flourish
As this product comes on line!
© Jack Ellison 2013