Best Uterus Poems
I feel more stressed,
Then ever before.
Life delivers some blows,
That is hardcore.
My financial difficulties are
On the increase.
I hope I get out of this,
In one piece.
It looks like luck,
It is gone for good.
I have even tried,
Knocking on wood.
A general malaise,
Has found a home.
Confined to a wheelchair,
I can't even roam.
My personal problems
Exponentially grow.
It is getting harder and harder,
To go with the flow.
The cost of living is at
An all-time high.
Most of us are barely
Getting by.
I see more drug use
There are more addicts.
People are strange,
there are more derelicts
Women are losing there
Personal autonomy.
The uterus does not
Belong to democracy.
Turbo1904 ?
Not an adult.
Not a child,
Not really a teenager anymore either.
I’m somewhere in between
Barbie dolls
And taxes.
Not an adult
But apparently enough of one
Because the moment I became capable of carrying a human,
I became-
Human.
But not really.
Only sort of,
When it’s convenient for you.
Not an adult,
But old enough to have children.
Not that I want to,
Not that I plan on having them,
But that’s all anyone seems to care about anymore.
The fact that they know
That I know
That they know
I can get pregnant.
I’m not interested in my uterus being a train depot
For anyone and everyone to flow through
Whenever they please
Because they know that’s what I’m made for.
It doesn’t matter if you believe
My body was created to create-
I don’t want to.
I don’t exist to bear your progeny.
I am not less of a person
Because I have an unused uterus.
1/3/18
Cervix is a secret Tunnel..
It took me a long time to reach it..
I have seen the depts and deeper truth..
The deeper we go in cervix the more
Ozzy it becomes..
I earned my phD from Eva Elfie Selfie...
Note.Abortion is legal in some countries...
First picked Summertime cherry
Dew glimmer marble blood clot
Taut fruit platter embitters sweating cheese
Liver pate shivers jiggle jelly
Nepenthe Mountbatten hidden chicken
Lays a tablecloth festive
Red checkered rewashed faded
Season with sea swell returns faithfully
Sickle slender silver moon smile harvests
Follicle forests expanding to full
Bright verve verdancy bursting
Peril of temporal balls
Metered to melt before resuming build
Knife blade moonbeam ripens the coming crop
Basket bulge fibrous beckon buyers’ bids
When the ceremony’s over
Feasting has ceased, linen’s off
Pink penned love letters are scrunched up thrown out
Reform engorged nightcap warmed moon omen
Sun demurred eclipse naps, menopause opaque
Unborn bends branches for Mary
Dulia in bloom banquets
Written for Contest: Seven Ten
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Only A Uterus
Only a uterus does a woman possess,
Which is what to you I must confess;
Purpose serve;
Vive and verve;
God different bodies each sex did bless.
Jim Horn
"Death is nothing to us because when we exist there is no death
and when there is death we don't exist anymore." (Epicurus)
Calm down, she said.
We were almost there and I felt stunned. We passed quickly through the deformed landscape. Was that greenish stain a field? Trees those shapes? Was there really a lake back there? We're coming, she spoke softly, barely audible. The landscape was now just a gray blur, the speed had slowed and I still couldn't breathe or think.
It's here, she said, as she became diaphanous, transparent, then disappeared.
The landscape was still murky and gray. The cold that invaded everything made me try to get out of where I was, but I couldn't move. It was then that I screamed in fear, realizing I couldn't hear my own voice.
I looked up and there was the slab.
Dark, heavy, it seemed charged with a monumental and infinite sadness. The world became cloudy and loneliness took me in its arms. My memories were no longer sad or happy, the memories just a quagmire of confused images. And so, because nothing else made any sense, I understood that I no longer needed feelings, meanings, questions, answers. Then a lightness and comfort of unexpected warmth crept through body and mind, thoughts and senses leaving and fading away, one by one.
The peace of not being is dark, but it is warm and velvety.
Inside the womb, the peace of not yet existing must be exactly the same.