Best Womb To Tomb Poems
WOMB -
Dark and deep inside.
Suffocated and unconscious.
Soul inherits the body.
A new child is born.
In between -
Joys and griefs.
Part and parcel of life.
TOMB -
Life breathes its last.
Soul abandons the body.
Back to the eternity.
Back to dark and deep inside.
From womb to tomb
The soul-cycle continues
From tomb to womb.
WOMAN'S WITS
By Ronalyn M. Pupa
“There is a woman in the house!”
She is the man’s partner and supporter,
Maintains household’s peace and order,
Alone or with you, stands still in all the crises forever,
She is the everybody’s MODEL.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She patiently teaches the young the basics,
Discovers and nurtures child’s special traits with her tactics,
Personality is shaped through aptitudes and attitudes mystics,
She is every child’s first TEACHER.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She ensures the new wealth is health mindfully,
She organizes the home and its activities accordingly,
Family has proper food, enough sleep and rest daily,
She is the family NURSE awakes around the clock.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She turns home into different places artistically,
She varies interior design and arrangement magically,
Home becomes an inviting, restful and cheerful place instantly,
She is the best homeowner and MANAGER.
“There is a woman in the house!”
She manages and uplifts the income of the family,
Receives husband’s salary yet wise in spending money,
Prioritizes necessities, comforts than luxury,
She is the TREASURER handling the family treasury.
“There is a woman in the house!”
Skilled in childbearing or rearing as home’s central personality,
Instills the habit of self-control, tidiness, diligence, honesty,
You turn to her for a never-ending understanding and sympathy,
With an incomparable love from womb to tomb, amazing MOTHER forever.
“There is a woman in the house!”
There is a woman working and leading elsewhere,
A woman who conquers struggles and reigns everywhere,
With passion and commitment in her career,
Oh, woman! everybody admires your wits and power.
Tears smudged face
Sparkles in my eyes
Fears the spanks the cane paced
The treasures she offered whole
When I was small
Shared laughter, fears and dreams
She hardly rest but beside my sick bed?
Holds herself like a sandalwood tree
A pillar, a tower which my arms could spread
When my tears shed
Now withered and shrunken hands
Still hugs me and cuddles in a curly band
Her starry eyes look deep into mine
With pretty rosy lips she smiles
Breast filled with divine love never weaned
From Womb to tomb, I lean
MY MOTHER
See her laden and brimming with the sheaves
On a hilly furrowed plane shrouded by leaves
Her way homewards she plods and heaves.
See her joggles on the spinning wheel
A textile she winds out the cotton reel
And made many hue garbs with great skill.
See her broil as she stirs the broth in the tripod;
Day by day the market and stream she trod
And fetch fire woods and make fine wares of gourd.
See her sit on a stool, behind the moon wanes;
She enacts folklores of ancient reigns,
Of men and animals, plants and bizarre planes.
See her upon her breasts life’s incubi weigh
As all her offspring upon her tender bosom lay
She cossets them from womb to tomb till she’s grey.
Alas, we live in an imperfect world.
We long for somewhere free from strife and pain--
Some Shangri-La or Eden whence, like Cain
When driven forth in anger, we were hurled.
And now our search is endless for some land,
Some perfect place where problems never loom
(Prosperity and bliss from womb to tomb)--
To leave this world from which perfection’s banned,
And seek Utopia (which means No Place):
Some land of joy, untouched by sorrow’s stain,
Recapturing our innocence… In vain,
For Eden hasn’t left the slightest trace.
Perhaps at last we’ll come to comprehend:
No matter where we seek it, near or far,
Right here on Earth or on the furthest star,
Our search for Shangri-La will never end.
October 2, 2019
Title #4: "A Search for Shangri-La"
Enclosed Rhyme Contest
Edward Ibeh, Sponsor
***** THE SIAMESE TWIN *****
"Womb to tomb" so is our fate
On a day with no date
Meaningless is one without its mate
Both occur once in this state
Their company; sweet sorrows
On the hands of time they are arrows
"Tomb to womb" so is our next gate
Opening to immortality estate
Meets the Judge to rate
Both our deeds and omissions of late
NOT PERFECT
God, my life is an open book and you wrote it
I am sticking to your script, sometimes am overly neurotic
But I pray you give me a sign
My ways are so dark, give me a sun
I am too blind to read in between your lines
Give me insight
I need to discern between good and evil
I need to love me as I do people
I need to treat each as an equal
I am not perfect I have sinned
Been swayed by the things I have seen
My eyes been accustomed to images so obscene
My tongue has lashed torrents of unspeakable speech
And sometimes drinking what I preach
Sometimes ignoring what you teach
I have broken your commandments and am now seeking for amendments
My paradise has turned into a menace
Full of people with no respectable manners
I come to you with my head bowed
I come to you and if allowed
Let me serve you God
Let me direct my effort for good
Let me be thy servant for when I stray
You will always take me by the hand and show me the way
Let me see you when I pray
Let me see a challenge when I fail
Let me spring to my feet again when I fall
God I am not perfect
I have seen evil in the eyes of men
I have erased hope in the eyes of many
I have drove crazy the totally sane
I have send the innocent from womb to tomb
There's blood on my hands I need cleansing
My body is your temple, I need fencing
Like a prodigal son I need forgiving
The world is falling apart and only you
Only you can restore dignity in the lives of humanity
Only you can save us
Only you can save me
I am not perfect
Womb to Tomb
New life from womb to pass through childhood and youth
and then with time merging to serene seniority
or premature end at any time facing ruthless truth.
Or inevitable death to meet after attaining maturity
07/27/20
Fourth Place
***
'Four Lines' Contest by Constance La France
Scattered in my thoughts- untold
Share my thoughts, for you- behold
Womb-to-tomb, to death from birth
Wish all "peace" whilst here on earth
New life from womb to pass
through childhood and youth
and then with time merging
to serene seniority
or premature end at any time
facing ruthless truth.
Or inevitable death to meet
after attaining maturity !
Anyway ending in tomb.
Sense of awareness more or less
achieved at last phase,
Source is introspection !
All preserved and reserved
treasures of heart
are destined to be left
at end of journey of life.
Yet last console of soul
is the wishful realisation:
Reincarnation,
not extinction.
01/21/23
la
got
take a
sneering
decidedly grand
positively grand
values! very working class
protracted ears, 1000 morals, agreeable policies
tenacious ears, lordly morality, sociable policies
perennial ears, expansive ethics, sociable policies
eternal ears, impressive morality, congenial policies
longstanding ears, lordly ethics, compatible policies
! its expansive ethics calling, swimmingly so grand
. its womb-to-tomb ears hooting, suddenly grand!
my ever so longest ears hooting, suddenly grand
we ever so tall ears snorting, suddenly
no retentive auricles booing, suddenly
no its unsound ears booing, suddenly
if a donkey big, consistent, large
a morals so blue
hooting donkey
for box grand!
are end box us
not hot in go
if can for end
blue not out time
liberal! like up
ears was
Death form crux
Span from womb to tomb.
Still shrugging.
For your sake
It's time to muse, act shrewdly.
Who can read your yarn
Written: January 08, 2022
INEVITABLE
New life appears welcoming childhood
meeting arrogant youth merging to serene seniority
or to face abrupt end at any time.
From womb to tomb leaving obituary.c
02/27/20
Second Place
'Poe-etic Verse' Contest by charles messina
From womb to tomb we are all alone...
Merely interacting with other vessels...
We stay busy with our repetitive, mundane jobs...
We are slaves to the green paper that sustains us...
We are all ghosts in shells meandering through this few moments we have...
Trying to make sense of it all...
Trying to be civil in an uncivil world...
Maintaining massive books of laws and regulations...
The leaders keeping us safe because they care about us so much!
I watch the cows from behind the fences. Are they behind them,
or are we?
Years have I been traveling
The deep, dark, dreamy waters
Unraveling the babbling
Of prophets, fools, and martyrs
Sailing my ship of questions
Seeking wisdom and rhyme
Assailing the keeps and bastions
Of kingdoms lost in time
Time is really irrelevant
The beginning and ending of an age
All the time in the cosmos to be spent
As each era takes the stage
Along the road-side hosts
Every epoch gone down
Ancient sign posts
Ruined cities and towns
Still haunted by ghosts
Time and place bound
Mile-markers point out empty spaces
Nexus-diners; decaying retro-cops
Battered bill-board faces
Time-line truck and bus stops
Where people and places
Got on and got off
A journey of the soul and mind
Sojourning the width and breadth of time
Seeking that which is and that which is not
Peaking curiosity and mystery sought
Songs sung of heroes, kings, and gods
Wrongs done by villains, knaves, and clods
Following my bliss into the depths of each age
Allowing my spirit to be freed of its cage
To soar over plains astral and eternal
To pour over tomes in tombs of the mortal
Seeking answers to life the universe and everything
Only to find more questions in God’s machine
The journey of mankind from womb to tomb
Can be a grand flight, but never assume
You’re here today, but tomorrow’s not sure
Celebrate the day, for soon you’re not here anymore