Labor Birth Poems | Examples
These Labor Birth poems are examples of Birth poems about Labor. These are the best examples of Birth Labor poems written by international poets.
Within her frame, a world is formed,
A heartbeat echoes, soft and warm.
Yet hope is stitched with threads of pain,
A sacred journey, not in vain.
She walks with feet too weary, sore,
Each step a trial, yet she bears more.
Restless nights with fleeting dreams,
Her body stretched at fragile seams.
A sudden craving grips her soul,
For sour fruits, or bitter bowl.
Strange hungers rise without a call,
She longs, she yearns, she wants it all.
Her back bends low, her breath runs thin,
The tide of labor swells within.
She grips the night, she bites the day,
As life prepares to carve its way.
And when the pain breaks like the sea,
Hope crowns her womb with victory.
Her cries give birth to sweetest song,
A mother’s strength, eternal, strong.
I.
The night was as thick as melted asphalt
when her prehistoric form
emerged like a monument
in the sand
and each egg that descended
spiked the air with the scent of birth,
sweet, pungent,
and female.
Drunk with labor,
she could not sense the mass
of people that surrounded her,
the eggs that slid through her rubbery body,
or perhaps the knowledge
that, in minutes, she would abandon
them forever.
Who could know
how far she had traveled
or what force had pulled her home
like snare
in that death-black sea.
II.
Do they look for her
when they have pushed their way
through the grit and sand
or fumble for the safety
of her strong flipper
when all she has left behind is instinct
cold as the saltwater
that must sting their newly formed eyes.
Decades later, the few that survive
will rotate the earth with their memories,
the turbulent water pressing
against them like sadness
to return to the place where they were born.
And when they reach it
do they search for her
before entering that trance,
wanting to see that she, too, has come back
and has been waiting all this time
in the darkness.
Winter is in labor and beginning to start the birthing
process of Spring, after a long season of snow and ice.
It is a welcome addition and all of nature seems
to be changing hourly as the weather goes through
some drastic mood swings, but you can almost hear
the cry of new life as Spring emerges.
Today, he celebrates life's milestone,
Grateful to God, his guiding light divine.
Through trials and tribulations, he's made it through,
While some peers fell, others thrive anew.
All he's achieved, all he's become, is God's design,
His Maker's glory, forever intertwined.
Breath, wealth, health – blessings from above,
A loving wife, children – a labor of love.
With heartfelt thanks, he acknowledges the past,
Tribute to those who've helped shape his path at last.
Philip Abayomi Olorunfemi, on your special day,
May longevity and joy come your way.
Nine months is a very long time
From the day of conception
When a new life is created
The waiting begins
So does the hope and planning
All climaxing in hours of labor
When that little boy or girl comes
They burst into the world
Taking their first breath
Then they start crying their lungs out
But, when they open their eyes and look at you
At that moment stress becomes happiness
And your son or daughter becomes your life
© Poem – XXIV/XII/MMXXIV
LRET
Ephaphta, a name that whispers secrets divine,
"Be opened," it echoes, a promise intertwined.
A gateway to abundance, a portal to delight,
You've unlocked bounty opportunities, shining with new light.
The twins Estevan and Estefan, a double blessing from above,
A testament to your openness, a labor of endless love.
Your rising star, a celestial wonder to behold,
Will spring forth, radiant and bright, never to grow old.
Happy birthday, dear Ephaphta, may your days be long and bright,
Filled with laughter, joy, and love, a celestial delight.
May your name continue to unfold its promise and might,
Guiding you toward a future shining with hope and light.
We are facing a time is history that we have never been before, election year 2025.
Some may agree and some may not, that's an individual choice.
Negative and positive we face each and every day. Who do you trust, God or man?
As I was studying this morning, this Psalm came to my heart and mind:
Psalm 127:1-5 (ESV)
"Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives to His beloved asleep. Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate."
Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that built it except the Lord keep the city, the watchman walked in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrow for so he giveth his beloved sleep
Lo, children are an heritage and the fruit of the womb is his reward
As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man
So are children of the youth
Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them they shall not be ashamed but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate
This was said in the beginning God bless the babies! The fruit of the womb is the reward!
In the garden's quiet corner,
Amidst the gentle rustle of leaves,
House wrens diligently weave their nests,
A labor of love in the springtime air.
Each twig and blade of grass carefully chosen,
Crafted with precision and purpose,
To create a sanctuary, a haven,
For new life to emerge and thrive.
With each flutter of wings,
A story unfolds,
Of resilience, of hope,
In the cycle of renewal.
In this quiet symphony of nature,
There is no need for rhyme or reason,
Just the simple beauty,
Of life finding its place,
In the tapestry of existence.
Written: February 22, 2024
_____________________________________
Tall mountain silhouette against the sky,
A rocky wall frames an eerie castle nearby.
People hide enigmas within that fortress,
There is something there that may thwart us.
It roams the tombs, scaring locals by night,
They say it's a sin that won't ever deem daylight.
The story goes that the fort gates were all aglow,
Once, a lord and his bride built it on a hill below.
Castle walls hosted events and grand balls,
During an ecstatic moment, a baby befalls.
The baron will have a son to carry his legacy,
A coming baby boy filled the castle with glee.
After profuse labor, things went awry for the lady,
Many claim what was born that day was shady.
The baron closed the castle for balls and feasts,
The item born in the castle seems like a beast.
Years of seclusion in the fort doomed the baron,
The stink of rotting bodies found in the environ.
With time, the fort's beast grew, fearing man sight,
Evil beast leave the fort to wreak havoc at night.
May, God's love, comfort, peace and joy
Surround you in these days of rememberence
Unto, the day the Son of God was born unto this world
The labor pains of the world to be birthed
For God was giving us a way to return
That we would be given access to receive new birth
In this God's plan would be witnessed
That this Child would be the One to deliver us
Out of darkness a light has appeared
Placed within, one to ignite a fire
Consuming old ways taught of man
Unto, a newborn Child of the Living God
Raised up to life unto our death of past ways
To rejoice every moment
Of the birth of Jesus
That has left His imprint and seal
Unto, the believers heart, soul and minds
The inheritance of the promised spirit
Red Oak menstruates in the heat of summer
Beech and maples stand back from her labor
Moonlight lifts her skirt
Wind drifts through her leaves
She stomps in circles only the owls divine
Piper of voles
She checks the many holes up and down her body
Shivers
An ancient skin crawling with leafhoppers and katydids
Pinches herself of replications
Like a plate glass window shattered from above
She rains green acorns
Thousands of bitter thumbtacks dropped to the forest floor
Seeds claw to their tiny graves
How they cry night and day
During a month of rain sun and the twist of Earth’s belly!
Mother! Mother!
Until
More than enough
For a feast of all the creatures
The remaining settle
Stars
Born from the mud and sky of colliding galaxies
Woman and God.
As I closed my door and lay down to sleep,
A poem came and violently knocked at my door.
Being quite late, I put a rein on my desire to admit it in
Even in my sleep I could hear the faint sound of a knock.
In the wee hours of the morn, as I sat up to house it,
Only scattered phrases and broken lines floated around.
A crazy excitement made me trap them in ink.
But nothing worthwhile showed up on the writing pad.
I found I had only violated the virginity of the paper.
After hours of spasmodic labor pain
What came out was a stillborn with no heart beats.
It lay limp before me and all excitement died down
It's still body, I found had closely resembled me.
Something of me was there stamped on it.
How could I who had parented it,
Callously discard it in a dustbin?
So, I carefully stashed it away in a secret place.
Where no one’s prying eyes would ever fall over it!
April. 6. 2023
~ Placed Third~
Free Submission Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
Rolling in the tides of time,
the larger rock a pebble now,
Rattle crackles with the others
in the squirming gravel’s maw.
Up back down - up back down,
persistent, insistent waves of the tide of time:
Boisterous thundering; rolling, boiling cannon roar,
returning calmed in rushing brine.
Pebbles flash dance in sandy froth,
razzle-dazzle in cross tide ripples,
Mingle there with beaches flotsam
bright shiny in the sparkling stipple.
Relentless seesaw ebb-tides, sliding grinding
the pebble to sand in timeless wave labor;
Ground so fine its powder dissolving:
pebble flesh now sea foam vapor.
Eternal flow of lava birth,
pebble life resumes on earth.
Beginning mine act of God today
Blessed event creation dawning
Delivery labor not sent dismayed
Nascency natality parturition producing grace
Trend visitor from universal space
1/21/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023