Birthing Poems | Examples

NATURE'S BIRTHING RAIN

NATURE’S BIRTHING RAIN  

Beautiful spring rain,
quenching the womb of the earth
with birthing waters;
sunshine waters of new life,
reflecting God-sent purpose.

A Birthing Frost

When finally those quickened hours come
that crept unseen behind tomorrow's door,
and waves of yesterdays upon me pour ~
few secrets left of just what might become.

In frost, the rush to harvest summer's yield,
when all of youth would break the vines of spring,
it seems an instant ~ now at last they cling,
impatient souls await in vineyard fields.

In warmth the sun of dawning will arise,
then weep upon your cheeks contented tears
and I will reach and sweep away your fears
when last I see the beauty of your eyes...

The Birthing Room

To carry a child in your womb
And then allow nature to bloom
As you swell now like blue moon
And there’s a crowd in the birthing room

For one born in the midst of June
Dr nurses swaddle and swoon
Heart of God is this art maroon
Mothers pain replaced by a tune

Lullaby for cries to meet her soon
Mother and tribe family welcomes you
Big beautiful eyes shiny and new
Jewel of life a crown of youth

The Birthing

Sometimes it feels
as if I am carrying it as a child in its womb.

It is yet unformed, 
but it has searching plasmid eyes 
that see in the dark.

It is unnamed and dispersed as threads and fragments,
but I sense its weight.

In the beginning (that ‘beginning’ is always nebulous),
there is an impulse,
a motive pressure that cannot yet
be translated into words;
at that time (‘that time’ is always uncertain),
 it is a kernel of import, yet still meaningless.

If I don’t force it to appear
it will gestate, gather a form around it.

If we are sensitive to the creative process
we will know
It is not the words we hear inside us
but the passing of muted footsteps
as they enter a reason to be born.

Perhaps after all.  it’s not the poem coming through us
but we coming through the poem?

A Birthing Person From Perth

There once was a birthing person from Perth
He/She/It battled quite a hefty girth
  Couldn't sit, so she squatted
  Reputation mud-spotted
But oh man, could she push when she gave birth

Birthing Day

My friend said, “Happy Birthing Day!”
I couldn’t help but grin
Because this marks the date in which
My son’s life did begin.

Some memories leap out at me – 
I know just what I wore
And the way I woke my brother
As we headed out the door.

He had come to visit, hoping
He’d be there to celebrate
The arrival of his nephew
And he’d not have long to wait.

But before we left, I tapped him
Saying we did not have long.
We were headed to the hospital.
He yelled, “Oh no, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just going to have a baby!”
Then we laughed, for as he woke
He’d entirely forgotten;
It became a family joke.

Hours later we would welcome
To this world our baby boy
Who has, through the years and counting,
Brought a lifetime filled with joy.

Mermaids Birthing Choices

Mermaids and Mermen are given a choice you see
Whether to lay eggs or have a live birth in the sea.
Each one makes her wishes known in a dream.
It is promptly granted by the Mermaid Wishing team.

Some choose laying eggs, for it gives more chances.
Many mermaid babies will hatch southern sea wind dances.
Others choose a live birth, but it limits them to two.
You will want to choose this if you only want to raise a few.

Mermaid twins and triplets are raised in incubators in the deep.
They are implanted via a uterine vial that you will want to keep.
There are other ways too, since mermaids are magical and kind.
If I share all mermaid birthing secrets though, they will wipe my mind.

The Birthing of Monsters

There’s a boy in the cellar with a stone in his mouth.
In the stone is a bird.
In the bird is a future unhatched, unborn, unclean.
Unbeknownst to the world, he is dead.

In the dark there is laughter from faces unseen.
It is here you will stay and alone in this place you will
dwell. 
With them. 
With it. 
For all time.
But I’m here, Mamma’s here.

I wish I could help you.
I wish I could hold you.
I wish I could save you from me.

I wish I could stop this.
I wish I could help this.
I wish it could somehow be better than it is.

But it’s not.
And I’m me.
And you’re you.
You’re down there.
I’m up here.
So it goes. 

There’s a wound in my heart that won’t heal, and it bleeds.
It’s your fault little boy, yours alone and I’ll snap you inside 
like a twig on a tree ‘till you’re still and at peace in my arms.

There’s a boy in the cellar with a bird in his mouth.
In the bird is a stone.
In the stone is a future reviled, rewritten, repaired.
Realized by the world, he is born.

Night To Morning

Night…to Morning
————————————-
Very often, 
my night hours
Keep awake,
Keep their occurrence
Until morning’s rise,
Keep their words 
Under darkness…and
Their poems wait,
Disregarding
Inspiration from
The luminant moon
In favor of the sun’s 
    birthing day.
I keep my sleep’s 
    dreams abloom 
In the acres of 
    gently waving,
 Vibrant yellow,  
Billions of sunflower
Petals
Opened to extend
    their beauty into the
Summer’s minuets —
Moving silhouettes —
Along the horizon…
So, so clear, even
To these sleepy eyes,
Through these 
    glistening tears.

===========
(c) sally young Eslinger 9/8/21
Thanks be to God

Poetics Poem, Red River Gorge, Ky

Poetics Poem, Red River Gorge, KY

I traipse the course of a forking, rambling stream
Barefoot from the rounded top of one small boulder
To another, the slashing strikes of cold water
Startling my every careful leap, place to place,
Landing with deep, short gasps, yet wordless
In an utter joy of intense sensation over sun-sprinkled 
Spots so bright against the deep gray hollow splotches of
Drenched stone.  The stream does not trickle
Along this gorge, but roars the air and throws
Its echoing roundabout the cliffs like a newborn
Learning its scream forth from being
Buried for years   beneath massive storeys on up to
Greater views.  But, the stream continues its carving around
The hillside.   And the newly-born cries will
Find the voices of self-expression with each gasping
Leap from boulders to cliffs, climbing in a wrapabout
The gorge’s hidden,  grand lowlands and rising
Of its own ineffable poetry so fully held within the birthing
Of Nature herself, all that which carries 
Of language as spoken
In the heart of God.

**********.         **********.         **********.         **********
(C) sally Young eslinger 10/9/2020

Birthing Blitzkrieg Bruised

worn wit's fang
omen's punctured prank
hoisted odds hampered
relieving rusty orders
monstrous myth melt
dripping dark delves

eerie experiment etched
foiling felon flesh
mental horizon's mesh

fragile future's confetti
humming hacked hymns
quarantined fate flicked

callous contractions cruised
birthing blitzkrieg bruised.
     '20:05:14:18:56

Note: Of masticated mentality.

Of Birthing Poetic Grace

here in the cocoon
of cosmic mind
words metamorphose
into butterfly memories
soaring in the winds
of mystic thought
filling sails 
of contemplating ships
on their chartered courses
to waiting shores
where caterpillar focus
bask in the sunshine
imaging reflective beauty
of harmonizing poetic grace…

Birthing Success

Shout and taunt me
Push me down,
Strip away my pride
Leave me nude,
Naked and confused.
Look at my bone of
Indignation
Is this all you'd hoped to see
I have more.
The cloth of my skin
Hides all
As the cloth of man hides nought.
Herein is to be found
me
Skin tight on flesh
Flesh tight on bone
Bone protecting all
And beneath all
I exist.
That is where I live
I chose that
The site of my mansion
It is built of dreams
Furnished with hopes
Delicate
Yes.
As eternal life
Shall you find me
Hunt me down,
Trap me
Skin me
Mount me,
Put my head 
Besides past victories
Is there glory to be found?
Glory sought?
Yes.
But I am better
For I have life
Eternal, till I die
Each and every second
My eternity.
One's life is life
Life all-encompassing
Hide your dreams
Your hopes
In the womb,
Of envisioned failure
By others.
Let it mature
In their deception.
Welcome it into the world,
To the sound.
Of your enemies wailing,
At the pain.
Of giving birth,
To your success.

Birthing

the tree
full of thorny body
breeds
most beautiful flower
rose

pregnant woman
waits for two hundred eighty days
painful body
gives birth
motherly best love 


-January 10, 2019 Chattogram

There Is a Time To Wait

There Is A Time To Wait

I know I have filled you with MY explosive power
declares my FATHER, the LORD
but there are still areas in your heart to cleanse and purge away areas a powerful ministry cannot afford.

And I know that you are longing and desire to go
and reach the poor and the lost and dying souls
yet there is plenty of MY time left for you to
reach such honorable and GODLY goals.

But I have a perfect time and in that time
all things I make are made beautiful
so rest child of MINE in your waiting room for it is a part
of MY plan and for you it is dutiful.

Don’t pace back and forth
as the restless and wild do who are of this earth
but rest and praise ME for what you are
about to now give birth.

Keeping your eyes on ME is so essential
as I lead you into your birth canal
then by faith, push this baby of promise
all the way through till its birth is totally final.

Though the way and the process seems to be such
an awfully long and draining time
the product that has been produced through the pressures
and strain will bring such glory to GOD and will also like JESUS shine!

Written by; Marilyn S. Jennings
March 29, 2001

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