Best Ovaries Poems
I love my little corner of the yard
when nearby Lilac Bush perfumes the air.
The human dwellers treat me with regard.
They sit behind their house and simply stare.
They gaze on me while I am in the pink
and blooms on me are streaked with white and rose.
They sometimes deeply breathe my scent; I think
they like me best when I’m in fancy clothes.
In time, their small ones stay around all day
and swing from ropes strung from my strongest arm.
I’m glad to serve my young friends in their play.
But later, I bring forth my greatest charm.
My ovaries expand and overlap. . . . .
My luscious fruit gets plucked, and then I nap!
Feb 17, 2021
for the 'Open Poetry 2' Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot
where *Sharia reigns
women are precious jewels
hide them from the world
let no other man behold
the diamond that you possess
guard that precious gem
her ovaries will get hurt
if she drives a car
yet Sharia will permit
your woman to be chauffeured
letting jewels drive
could lead to prostitution
yet young gems are mined
and driven to Syria
Al-Queda’s ruby pleasures
dancing in the rain
two Pakistani sisters
shame their family
honor killings rained bullets
on pearls that smile on YouTube
where education
is horribly unbalanced
Jihad goes crazy
a gem shot by fanatics
receives the Nobel Peace Prize
For Richard Lamoureux's Let's Talk About It Poetry Contest
*Sharia (Islam) the body of canonical law based on the Koran that lays down certain duties and penalties for Muslims
a five- tanka series done in traditional syllable count. (Well, I hope at least a few of them are decent tanka!)
Inspired by and Written 7/17/2015 for the Patriarchy Contest of Thomas Martin
To see the short dance of the Pakistani girls killed to save family "honor", please click on my link at the top.
For more, for less,
For much, much more.
A cook in the kitchen,
The bedroom a whore.
Smiles so varnished,
Completed and glossed.
Not tarnished, infected,
Nor forgotten or lost.
Eradicate all illusion,
I will prevail!
Let us become winners,
So they learn to fail.
Be Godly and wanted,
In knickers and bra.
Not kept under covers,
Or pickled in jars.
Words jump before me,
To slap you in the face.
So you can’t ignore me,
As I step in your place.
You want me to sit down,
Boiling quietly inside.
So you can floor me,
My legs, open wide.
My mother, my bastard,
Our God given rights.
My hang ups, my loses,
Determined to fight.
My brain, my head,
My mouth dried inside.
My fetus, my ovaries,
My legs squeezed tight.
My fingers, my toes,
They long for much more.
Secretly hating the Chef,
Whilst admiring the Whore.
Fat egg you're a mess!
I can't believe the scramble where you fell
There's slime dirt and yellow on your shell
Impossible, I must confess
With all the king's horses
all the king's men
and the ovaries of a hen
It seems quite ridiculous
a job so meticulous
observing men define feminism ~ my ovaries roll
A packet of seeds I got in the mail
from China it said. Well, isn’t that swell?
Having nothing to do – thought I’d plant them for fun,
so I watered them daily beneath summer’s sun.
Next thing I knew, there were tiny tails showing!
Attached to those tails, hamster babies were growing!
I then took the packet the seeds had come in
and had its words translated by Doctor Chin.
He told me the females of hamsters Chinese
had incredible medical properties!
“Their ovaries,” he confided in me,
“are used to make Prolia. Rich you may be!”
Gobsmacked was I. I could sell to Big Pharma.
From stuff out of China there sure comes strange Karma!
Aug. 12, 2020 for Carolyn Devonshire's "Mystery Seeds" Poetry Contest
Note: While hamsters coming from seeds is ludicrous,
I find it hardly any less ludicrous than the fact that the
drug injected for two years into my body contains the
ovaries of Chinese hamsters! Freaking hamsters!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_hamster_ovary_cell
O-Outward she seemed fine and healthy
R-Really it was a dagger in the heart to hear!
P-Penetrated through the ovaries was a cancer cyst.
H-Happened that it was the size of a grapefruit before we knew
A-And it had metastasized so that numbered her days.
N-Now both of my parents have passed on, and I at the age of 43 am orphaned.
Today's true tom tale;
Today was Dr. day at the clinic
I ended up the day quite a cynic
I'd been awake three days,
With a toothache and pain that slays
My jagged teeth cutting up my tongue
And the promise of help to which I clung
For no more of this pain could I endure,
I desperately did seek some kind of cure
Appointment at 2:15- told the taxi 1:30
I knew the fib was a tad dirty...
"Hedge the bet" one might say,
Sad to think one must be that way,
Of course in this case he showed up at 1PM
And I was in the waiting room at 1:15
Fastest response I'd ever seen.
So I sat in the waiting room as
Clerical shifts came and went
My patience seemed nearly spent
At last I was escorted to an examining room,
To sit and ponder my future doom...
For over an hour I sat there,
Reading all the posters on the wall,
About various diseases,
Soon I had them all!
Cervical cancer,
Malignant volvulus,
Infected ovaries,
Fibroid tumors in my uterus,
A glumaceous gluteus,
Obstructed bowels,
Deviated septum
Leukemia,
Anemia, edemia
Enlarged prostate,
Shrunken prostate
Eczema, Lupus
Leprosy.....
All these for me!
I hoped he didn't keep me
waiting too much longer,
Surely I wasn't getting stronger....
I'd be dead in ten more afflictions
If he could not cure all these conditions.
I felt my life force start to fade
Look at what these posters made!
Surely life was slipping away,
I couldn't stand,
I began to sway.
In he finally came,
Suddenly I did not feel
the same,
I might survive the day after all,
My approaching death grew
rather small.
Next time, bring a book,
For in terms of time,
It hardly took,
Much time to catch
All these ills,
Or at least come in,
With made out wills.
The mechanical components, the valve that pumps my heart
The reactive nerve endings that serve a sensory stimulus
The tear ducts that latently only lend lubrication
The silly little practical necessary body bits, pieces and parts
I yawn & it reminds me… I should probably inhale & exhale
I smile because it is simply facial muscles that need exercise
I do mechanical muscle management to strengthen & maximise
Biomechanical body’s like mine don’t simply go frail..
My skin surface is stimulated, & sympathetically constricts.. it must be cold?
My mental function set to maintain a neutral base
My muscles, skeletal system, ligaments, tendons & bony structures
Encapsulated by a mechanised myofascial web, complete the outer mould
Organs operate internally as a well serviced engine, its all systems go
Emotions just pesky little hormone imbalances, from a time long ago
Where we as woman once needed in order to reproduce
Will evolution shrink our ovaries as they have outgrown their use?
My tongue embraces words, my tongue the sharpened sword
I trip stumble & fall and my senses heighten
My pelvic floor constricts & I feel it twitch & tighten
I massage the distressed muscles & release multiple rewards
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine
Not some sensitive, high strung weak inferior copy of a male
It is supple, soft and silky to the touch, all curves & contours
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine……
The duck-billed platypus is odd and, if the product of a god,
it's difficult to understand, why such an animal was planned,
but maybe when the rest was done, there was stuff left and so begun
one animal made from the dregs, made wearing fur and laying eggs,
enough left for a creature that, was smaller than a household cat,
with waterproof thick body hairs, packed denser than a polar bear's.
Its hearing's good, its eyesight keen, but colour vision doesn't mean
much to it; strangely still we find, when hunting, it hunts deaf and blind
for underwater, its prey yields, its presence in electric fields
which guide the platy to its kill, through sensors in its duck-like bill.
The mating season brings new quirks, two ovaries, but just one works,
the left one has to do for her, while he sports a strange poisoned spur;
for this creature is, not least, the only furry venomed beast. *
*All the facts above were checked, but one turned out not quite correct
Alas, the last line is not true - there also is a venomed shrew!
If I had a Doberman
I’d never crop her ears
or dock her tail,
although she’d probably
loose her ovaries.
Just a silly hound
but she’d still
retain her teeth.
music
music
music
silence-knot
silence-knot
silence-knot
thread-channel-wave
thread-channel-wave
thread-channel-wave
sea sea and sea and mouthful and drowning
and salt in the algae
and brilliant and resplendent mist
and salty tears
in each rotation towards oxygen
and salted water in the collapsing ovaries
bursting bubbles in the anchor
and seminal sweet waters in the sea
in each rotation towards oxygen
and waterish tears in the glassy sand
and crystals in the algae and organs
and honey in the brine
of the great mother-father fluid
SO MUCH DEPENDS...(Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars)
So much depends upon the girl with red current meandering from her woman
And the clots of clumped up thoughts that occasionally disturb her flow.
So much depends on the wisdom from her oval shaped head
And the greyish-pink lips
How from her round belly an eruption of ‘woke’ perspectives
Has to leave others with a need to be introspective
“So much depends on this observer of the universe”
Her views hanging from the sides like ovaries
To provide boundaries
So she can never be too sinful, too deceitful, too proud
Too round, dark , round
Sinful;
Deceitful;
Unkind
So much depends on the girl in the African print caftan and a bandana on her short processed hair
Fearful of oblivion
Trembling before disappointment
Stake in back while she too wields one against another
Never too good, never too honest
Her only decency in her merciful lies
Her only fault is being faulted
And that is before she takes a good look in the mirror
So much depends on the girl with short manicured nails with transparent nail polish,
Pecking away at the keyboard while hoping tears will flow
Because all that’s at play within her is too inward
Relentlessly refusing to flow out
So much depends on her sockets to let out tears, the kind that fall naturally and heavily
So much depends on her other half
To explain the sudden outburst of betrayal, what is allegiance?
But she knows not to poke those demons
For they may wake up with renewed zeal
Close a chapter while your hands still work
Goodbye to that song that was the anthem in your special little earth,
Heaven is your only haven
Heaven is your only haven
If only you show your worth.
“So much depends on this observer of the universe.”
Written on 25/12/15 after a very long, beautiful and blessful (poetic licence anyone) day.
Madame Sosostris, the leaves are running away
With the springtime wind, into the University café,
Mr. Scogan, what prophesy of apocalypse do you bring?
The grass smells oh! so fresh and green
Budded with cupidity and sin,
In shadow behind the lamp,
Tent pitched beneath a Portabello mushroom,
On your ear lobe is that an earring?
These mushrooms grow in the air from Hamadan,
While you examine a cemented palm print
On the footwalk of Stars embedded in archaic senility,
What, after all, is your Machiavellian plan?
Eye huge behind the magnifying glass,
Sinister, these fates of March,
‘Perhaps there is something in it after all’
Otherwise, why have the cacti mutated so?
We cannot help but oversimplify,
Decimation follows the metric system,
Is uniform, total and immediate,
Decimation does in turn itself mutate.
Ashes radiate ashes to create a wasteland
Shrunken ovaries, ululating uterus
As rheumy eyes keep shrewd watch for the Holy Grail
On a spec of dust in the universe.
veil shrouds ovaries
perfume entices suitors
thorns extinguish pests