Best Giving Birth Poems

~The Untold Fatal Attraction Poem~

Mid-morning she sees the sun ahead
Her death flowed in a messaged bottle
Gazing into her brown eyes upon all open sores,
Her conscience...

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To appreciate our planet;
begin with its snowcapped mountains,
where sunbeams morph crystals of ice
into gems of glistening light.

Witness white clouds traverse the skies
floating on a vista...

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Partial Paper
 -A poet in heat-

Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion...

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I celebrate wonderful mothers 
who always put the needs 
of their children first,
the single mothers who 
especially must sacrifice 
to help their children survive 
and...

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Woman in Chains
(What Man Would Abide It?)

Women throughout centuries – the softer sex.
I picture them subservient since what feels like time primordial!

What man would abide
being...

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ETERNAL RECURRENCE*


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“I am certain that I have been here as I am now a thousand times before and
 I hope to return a thousand...

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Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.

Tuesdays are...

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A WISH -- In Memory Of 

"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body...

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With mouth open wide
I swallow whole the moon
hoping to feel the tides
deep within the womb
of my feminine side
allow this man to bloom.
Pregnant with ideas
I am...

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Writing a poem is like giving birth to a baby.
With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception!
 
It swims into you as...

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"I Wish"

I wish I could blow air into your little lungs, 
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world. 
Hold your little...

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Can one count the pieces of a broken heart? 
Can a flag half staff proudly wave?
Will kites still rise in staccato weather,
or partial freedom be...

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Waft borderless borders;
within;

  The dividing line that separates the free
    and the slaves;

      where strangers come...

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As the wind ripped the leaves from the trees
I thought of you
As I stood there like those trees
Stripped of all their glory
Their only crime
Giving birth...

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The flames of the furnace (well-travelled by wind
slowly glazing the rags of gray women chagrined
at the sight of a hair fleeing tresses now thinned) 
sometimes...

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