Birthing Poems - Poems about Birthing

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

The 10-Year-Old Birthing

The 10-Year-Old Birthing

My fondest memory of them all
was the day I could read the word “vegetable.”
At 10 years old I had reached an age
where I made up my own words for the printed page, 
from pictures, my stories to be had.
My non-reader state was very sad.
But, a Reading Specialist, Ms. Mary Lou Redd,
ignited the process,

Birthing a Sonnet

Writing my first Sonnet was like a pregnancy.
I knew I wanted to give birth to one 
and took on the parental responsibility
knowing it wouldn't... or shouldn't take nine months.
There'd been no morning sickness nausea
but there were times when I wanted to change my mind.

"Too bad, kiddo," I thought.  "You gotta see this through.
because you

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

THANKING GOD FOR HIS PURPOSE HIS BIRTHING U-

Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our Earthen father
Why? Because He made me so
 Is divinely intertwined 
In an earthen vessel. 
Fearfully and wonderfully made
 You’re dear and precious! 
Thank God for His purpose.
Thank God for His purpose
Thank God for His purpose
 Blessed, blessings to you Beloved.  
Always, always, always
Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our

Birthing Room Scene Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas of sheer delight
As hospital nurses beamed with joyful zest
To cheer mothers in their delivery quest
Assisting them to labor devoid of fright.

Pretty nurse kept singing “Silent Night” midst bliss
Hoping festive serenity to prevail
Against screams of first time moms who did wail
Then “Joy to the World” echoed, no one could miss.

Mindful nurse

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

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

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

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.

Mother, Father and the Birthing of the Angel

You have led my course through fractured lanes.
Your groaning ballad my only light.
Kill blessings from stained lips safely float our steps.
Where would I be without you Michael?

Crow mother lies broken at our hand.
Eyes, lips and tongue smeared on stone.
‘You are just like me,’ she bleats through shattered teeth.
Thank you feathered protector, my septic pedagogue.

Poisoned Papa

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

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

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