Best Placenta Poems
Wanna make a baby?
Here's how it goes....
The ***** enters the vagina.
Then out comes a flow.
Meanwhile from the ovary,
down the fallopian tube.
A tiny egg is swimmimg
and plops into the uterine lube.
After a fierce battle
the fastest sperm wins.
Brakes through the egg's shell.
Then multiplication in ovum begins.
Oxygen and nutrients flow
through the umbilical cord.
From after birth on uterine wall.
Or placenta as it's sometimes called.
A little baby is growing fast.
Nine months to be exact.
The womb then contracts.
These are the facts.
Out pops a baby...
Simple as that!
Squeak, squeak, squeak. The sound that resonates in my ears. My existence in orbit around the source of this sound. Every move, in fact, every thought of mine, is associated to this sound. Like a placenta wrapped around a baby's neck, in a mother's womb. Sign of impending horror or remnants of an incident past?
Shining stars in the sky fail to beat the glitter on my chest. A chest once proud, now a frail shadow of loss. All that glitters on my chest is far from gold. A hand that once saluted with honour and pride, now outstretched, palm up, waiting for your largesse. You look at me with disdain.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. I move on
Treasure trove
Insignificant metallic honour
Wheelchair spares
Fly
leave life’s
unbound web.
Let tatters stream
upon time's wind rise.
Bring sustenance to grow
with wanderers wonder ride.
Upon wind, water, fire or earth
remove the shell, pod, the placenta
rebirth upon the graves of fettered time.
Inflicted is this society
Of depicted truths to matter
Does it matter
When every life doesn't matter to the same accord
Accordingly, slavery was abolished
To what effect when our minds are currently enslaved
When the only awakening comes from the mourn of graves
Theres so much to be saved, this is known
Every life does matter
Yet the matter has no volume to skin tone
When the only way is the only way
To band together
Ensuring the importance never fades
In creating the trending phase
Of change
Important Phrase!
Black Lives do matter
Our skin far from white
So the minority as a whole must also lather
The will to stand up for this pigmented matter
Black, White, Hispanic
What ever you may be
We are all created in light of a womb
To the luck of a swim up stream
In similarity of the blood we bleed
N the placenta we once did feed
Linked in red
The blood shed of our being
Dead babies
All in circles
Dead babies
Screaming, screaming
I hear my name
Over here, over here
One second of birth
I die in flame
Of wombs passion
Don’t be crying
I was always dying
Don’t touch me now
Don’t feel the cold placenta
Tumble down lost one ways
Deep purple tunnels
Swiss alpine meadows
Light and night twisted like vine
I never cry, never try
I was a soft heart when I was born
Now you can touch a heart of stone
The rum and bourbon keep stones wet
Touching me is touching the devil
One day, in that moment in time
I imagine
Holding your hand
The one I don’t know
I take another drink of the devil and laugh
Imagine a cloudy day
That Alice comes to save me
Alice, meet the rabbit
Wonderland is over there
Returning to fantasy no more
Clones and drones and rolling stones
Lovers and strangers
They all seem far away
The darkness calls
I am Alice in wonderland
I have been elected
For death
My name is Stephen
The Virgin and Child
Matrix of allusions.Its intersections
dipped in the beckoning depths of chaste dark
to grow limbs like any other. To mark
a departure into a great mission.
Life dipped in a suave and rare medium
of strokes and streaks . Who would not sense
in the vision-flatness an equilibrium
of solidity and reassurance.
The harboring grid of hardened faith
is crowned with thorns of colored distractions
without the telling placenta of birth
but still-lifed in womb-dark meditation
I ‘m the virgin, the lactating breasts, the birth
I ‘m the baby of the resurgent earth.
Form: A modern Sonnet, attempted.
**Based on the painting “ Virgin and child” by SOFONISBA ANGUISSOLA
S.Jagathsimhan Nair,
26th Oct 2013.
It is a pity that I'm not your baby,
the fruit of your flesh and blood,
you will have provided me with such care and attention,
that nobody on the ground could imagine about.
You have nurtured me and grow from early years,
day and night kissing and plying tenderly.
And long before that the wholly nine months
I would be concluded in the placenta
prisoned in your belly and you gently brought me,
as the most dearest yours patient and heir of your life,
you constantly talking with me,
though I do not understand what these words matter
but I felt the eternal warmth of maternal love and strength
when your fingers so gentle touch to my body.
And then one day I was born in that world,
and put on your warm stomach carefully,
and the birth pangs unbearable
turned to the flash of limitless tenderness.
And I have lived with you till your last day,
enjoying by the ineffable love and happiness
And maybe then, dear, my lust, thirst and love for you
appeased and satisfied completely and forever.
1995
http://www.adlibris.com/se/sok?q=Rigby&pn=1
There I am, laid bare on a slab of steel
undone by my Achilles' heel,
A Mayan priest's obsidian blade,
or a sultry siren's silent serenade
There I am, placenta draped and screaming
Awoken from my embryonic dreaming
Beckoned forth to join the woeful parade
And make a cameo for a few accolades
There I am, full of zeal and glee
Despite all my idiosyncrasies
Overly amorous and under prepared
But going ahead unimpaired
There I am, washed of my daily grime
resetting all the usual paradigms
Readying myself for the Sisyphean chore
of another day I can not ignore
The poppies grow in fields of corn
Lamenting days gone by.
Once they were soldiers
Sounding their battle cry;
Now distant memories lie stillborn.
Each poppy a memorial between a
Sea of proud husks bray,
And each corn of scorn
Ordains the soldiers day;
Once aromatic flowering placenta.
And the generals did it in for them.
Take me back to my mother's womb
A peaceful place where eyes remain closed
Not to witness the tragedies of this world
Where ears hear not the horrifying sounds of this earth's brutality.
Take me back to my mother's womb
And let me stay there where worries and sorrows are absent
Let me stay there where day and night makes no difference
There where food and clothing matters not.
Take me back to my mother's womb
Where I will forever rejoice for I will be having
No idea of whatever is happening on earth
Because there, exist no one else but myself in my world.
Take me back to my mother's womb
And let me swim alone in my amniotic fluid
In a world where jealousy, hatred, anger and bitterness
Exist not for the placenta allows nothing malevolent.
Take me back to my mother's womb
For the world today is rotten, chaotic and painful
Meliorism is the only inspiration we have
As brutality dominates the earth with ruthlessness as a new norm.
Life on earth is full of tears
The future is doomed and hope is lost
Please take me back to my mother's womb
Because that is where I wanna stay forever.
Baby seems to always be the one
to kick start the day
Trying to get comfortable in her placenta water bed,
got mother waking up dizzy
and feeling real queasy in the head
She feels it coming on,
yeah, she feels it coming on strong
Morning sickness is heading her way
Nothing she can do but grip the edge of the sheets,
swing around and rise up
Baby seems to be most comfortable when mother's
standing on her feet
Ultrasound reveals baby is in a swimmer's curled tuck
Eight months and some change,
it won't be long, any day now
She's gonna have to go to work, have to labor in pain
But a safe delivery is the most important thing
Got to eat a big meal, got two mouths to feed,
then relax on the couch and watch some TV
The plan is to snooze unto noon, hubby will be checking in soon
to see if she needs anything
But baby wakes up before she does,
tussling around in a fuss,
so mother rubs her stomach gently
This calms baby down, and just when peace settles in ...
Wouldn't you know it, time to start the cycle all over again
Morning sickness always win,
morning sickness in the afternoon now begins
An omnipotent'd been ideated by militant clan,
Aeons tell how it put them through a social pace.
To set up abode or to relate races with astute plan,
God had its genesis;women-men needed it to seek solace.
As fact a woman conceives, is manifest
Man couldn't conceive of anything but God for law and lex.
Dyed-in-the-wool,they kept bending head for mending mind lest
They vex orders of war, worship and women for sex.
But missile killed gravid woman with faded hue,
Her baby survived in placenta of its mom of Gaza:
A whole race, policies, religion; yet nothing to rue,
As if all were busy computing to bring future bonanza.
No more sacred are our Temple and Church or Mosque and tomb.
Truth says:fetus Jesus'd been bestowed on Mary's womb!
Signature
Append the seal on the opening glee
Of performance agog with clapping drums,
The cylindrical bell calling to spirituous mundi
Screaming flew about in the air;
Perched on ears
And pecked on fertile hearts,
Consider not the frightened feet
Aching at commencement,
Wind to experiment, explore and applied
The agility in acrobatic anger
Of stretching sweating flesh,
Rhythmical muscles drawn vein taut
To the last drop of dew,
Hoofs prancing, prancing and prancing!
Ejaculating on the polished wood
With a millionth impregnated marbles spread tentacles,
Atomic spermatozoa bombast the uterus
Colonized the ovary and eke out
Inside, the embryonic yokes;
Suspended by clear albumen,
Fetal poles march strength with fallopian tubes,
Cavity swallowed them into humid sac
Plush pollen grains into zygotes
Springing anew buds in May,
Conceive earthlings with several asking branches
A lot of libraries;
A particular slanted eyeball
Began rumbling belch, lightening guffaw and thundering hiccup,
Tugging at umbilical chords,
Breathe knocking placenta on the head
And efflux out of the duress,
Spectra Butterflies flagging multi-coloured limbs
Faculty spiraling, twirling and tossing on elastic trunk,
Laser flashing touches swam in oceanic atmosphere,
Eager ritual leap of the gods,
Dagger usher out from scabbard
Plunge into dimple ample
Tip oozes indigo gore,
Sources of springing magenta
Began the back and forth stabbing,
Scribbling on the whitish flesh
Ink on tones of barks, bereft,
Spat spittle connived, reed shook together
Vein drawn to bursting,
Adaptation to suit thumb and forefinger
Pour the concoction, pour on the root.
(Please read part 1 first or this will make no sense)
To the scientist’s dismay, pressing the cancel button was ineffective. The plunge into his past continued inexorably. It, however, was not without its benefits. Henry’s skin became supple and his muscles bulged as in his youth. His hair returned to the light brown that he hadn’t seen in decades. For the first time in decades, Henry felt, not just okay, but good and joyous in his renewed youth. He decided to stop his slide into the past at about age twenty when he would have his degrees and could live his career over again. If his “other self” was there, Henry would assume a new identity and make a whole different life for himself. It was an unprecedented opportunity and he meant to make the most of it.
Near his birthday in the year 1970, Henry hopefully pressed the cancel button and was rewarded with a loud click. But instead of gliding to a stop, the time machine accelerated in its journey into the past. Henry experienced the hormonal rush of puberty and felt adolescent acne break out on his face. Within minutes, a reverse growth spurt cut his height by several inches. Soon, he was a young child at play, oblivious to the danger of his situation. The year 1950 saw a tot and then a cooing baby. When August 8th passed, the infant suddenly had an umbilical cord attached to a nonfunctioning placenta. Its two umbilical arteries throbbed desperately, but the return blood through the umbilical vein was not oxygenated, nor did it contain essential nutrients.
Membranes enveloped the devolving Henry who now had the “old man” appearance of a fetus. Then he became a blastocyst, ready for implantation in a nonexistent uterine endometrium. Within seconds he regressed to gastrula, blastula and then the berry-like ball of cells called morula. Like some weird countdown, he became 64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2 cells and then a zygote.
The paternal half of Henry’s chromosomes disappeared next, leaving only an ovum ready for fertilization. Even that became an oocyte needing to complete meiosis before it vanished entirely in the immature ovary of Henry’s infant mother.
Henry Higgins, born August 8, 1950 and died November 8, 1949, physicist and time traveler is missing forever.
Gently drifting in the womb, these angels are the most in tune.
After birth they intuitively seek ocean, river, pool and lake.
Excellent swimmers they do make, intuitive angels with wings in water.
Perhaps one is your gentle daughter, hold them back, I tell you naught
for in the water they are divinely self taught. Dip them in the pool when young,
it is where their song is sung. Inherently part of their dioceses, water is the sign of masterful Pisces. Born under the sign of fish for a reason, all water sports
belong to their season. Salt or fresh matters not, its the allure of the un- tethered, feeling of weightlessness, lack of gravity like a floating feather. Splashing in the womb guarded by the heartbeat of mamma, the sanctuary where no harm looms, peace of heaven is slightly remembered, only the attachment of placenta to hold the connection of love past, present with no worries of future. Three quarters of the body, little wonder it feels like home, no matter how far your earthly roam. Does your heart remember drifting inside life's comfortable splendor prior to the worlds agenda? My mind, unfortunately, has forgotten but the liquid of my heart yearns for a moment in time to relish the love connection of the amniotic fluid of my earth mother gone to heaven. I ponder, is it coincidental that tears from the eye are comprised of water too.
2/26/2017