Long Amniotic Poems
Long Amniotic Poems. Below are the most popular long Amniotic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Amniotic poems by poem length and keyword.
The Great Success
********************
I sat alone meditating and contemplating,
Deeply thinking about the universe, the human being and life.
I asked myself:
What would a fetus say if I were to phone him,
If I were to ask him about the circumstances there in his mother's womb;
How is he living?
I called him up and asked him to tell me something about his life….
His answer was:
Although my world is tiny, I am very happy here …
An umbilical cord feeds me,
A strange amniotic fluid protects me against any outside effects.
My world is ideal…no lying…no cheating and no hypocrisy…
I asked him if he had anything to add.
He replied: for the time being, he could not form his impression of the other side of the story
His last exact words were 'good-bye! Till we meet in your world'.
I waited until the plane landed after that nice short journey,
The delivery had already taken place
The child was still crying
People around were cheerfully laughing.
Then I asked the new born baby: as a newcomer to our world,
What would you say now?
His answer was: although your world is huge, I see it gloomy and dark.
This life is weary; a tear, a sigh,
Then I'll say good-bye and die.
Your world is full of lying, cheating and hypocrisy.
I wished I stayed in my mother's womb forever.
I told him 'there is a way if you follow, you can change the terms of your life.
Your tears can become candles;
Your sighs can become smiles
Even your death can become life in itself.
You have come to this world while crying
When people around you were laughing.
Following that way, you die smiling
When people around you are crying…
He immediately asked me: 'What is this way?
Please tell me?
I told him: ' The only way to achieve this is to believe in Allah (Glory be to Him):
To believe in His beautiful names and attributes
To believe that He is: Allah, the Peace, the Merciful, the Loving, the All-Knowing, the Gracious..etc
If you do so, you will win paradise and gain immortality
And in paradise you will have:
Life without death,
Youthfulness without old age,
Happiness without misery
And health without sickness.
And this is the real victory
The Great Success & Everlasting Delight and happiness
EcoPolitical
and EcoLogical
and just plain logical conclusions
to Left-hemisphere hegemony
Pedantically evangelical about the monopolistic merits
of deductive
reductive
dogmatic
dualistic dominance
Is further business as competitively usual
straight white patriarchal
from-above RightWing
disempowering pathological tragedy
through unenlightened
Either True and Healthy and Safe
Or False and Sick and Evil
monoculturing prominence,
RightWing fundamentalism
committed to aggressive uncommunication in gated ghettoes
unraveling in disinformation apartheid silos
of win/lose nationalistic competitions
in corporate capitalism,
intrinsically anti-grassroots
multiculturally democratic
Commodifying all Earth's health/wealth resources
compassionately graced
multiculturing Both/And
NonPolarizing potential integrity
of NonZero Sum Soul enlightening democracy
Ego polypaths
toward healthy EcoHabitat
as integrally imaged
through bicameral luminosity
Tipping
bilaterally balancing
prominent ego/eco-feminist minds
back toward original matriarchally wombed
experiences of liberally loving co-attachment
ReTurning to regenerative spirits
of synergetic embodiment
polypathic
polynomial
polyphonic
polyvagal
eco-political empowerment
Of short-term individuated ego identity,
of course, essential health care
But, much more multiculturally significant,
also care as EarthTribe's long-term ecosystemic climate residents
for health-empowering
wealth enlightening
co-passionate communion
Golden polypathic Rule;
Do = not(not) Do = Win/Win
most healthy polycultural outcome
Golden polymathic Ratio;
50% PolyNomial = 50% (not-not) PolyMetric
Universal Group Win/Win
Golden neuro-polyvagal Elixir;
EgoLeft +health = EcoRight (-,-) depolarized wealth
co-passionately dipolar-arising
Empowering ecological health
and multiculturally experiential theological/analogical
divinely beautiful win/win
Left/Right co-arising wealth
Like drinking
democratic Yang strength health
while cooperatively swimming
in amniotic Yin eco-flowing
slow-growing wealth.
When earth was engulfed in the amniotic fluid of mother abyss,
Your power moved upon the surface of the primeval depths,
Like the coordinated contractions of myocytes in the uterine walls,
And the earth emerged like a baby expelled from its mother’s womb.
After the human race You created was plunged into a spiritual abyss by sin,
It was time for You to demonstrate Your creative power once again.
Mankind’s act of rebellion did not catch You by surprise and without a plan,
Before the foundation of the world, redemption was conceived for fallen man.
In the fullness of time You sent Your Son, implanted in a virgin’s womb,
Like Adam’s race He must experience the darkness of the watery tomb,
And then be expelled by the powerful contractions of the uterine wall,
Because the purpose of His coming was to rescue mankind from the fall.
From the moment He emerged from the womb, the battle with evil was enjoined,
The lives of many infants were sacrificed in an effort by king Herod to destroy His,
O what cruel irony that one in need of rescue would seek to kill his rescuer,
And that the redeemer will be rejected and annihilated by those He came to save.
From the elevated position on a cross, He was then placed in the darkness of a tomb,
Reminiscent of His condescension from perfect heaven to sinful earth,
But death and the tomb could not restrain the Creator of heaven and earth and life,
On first day of the week, with life that was within Him, He arose victorious over death.
So, for us lost and wretched creatures, trapped in a prison of sin.
There is good news in the offing for the Savior is about to return,
Not as babe in Bethlehem’s manger, but as Lord of Lords and King of Kings,
With healing and salvation in His glorious and mighty wings.
To accept God’s plan of salvation and experience peace and joy within,
You must turn from your life of rebellion and accept His sacrifice for your sin,
And then the Holy Spirit He will give you, to guide, transform and help you,
Gain victory over sin and be ready to spend eternity with Him.
Beware ...
they are coming ...
I hear them as they tap their invariable
pulses on my spirit, like steel drums
in the Cruzan night, all at once frightening
and irresistibly intoxicating - the warm
blanket, doom ...
I find it unremarkable ...
that they match my heart's thrumming,
vying for a prominent consideration
like echos of a tragedy
or the warning of a bell buoy ...
Do you hear the footfalls?
Do you hear the sound?
Do you feel the shudder of
The furnace in the ground?
They bring sight ...
or so you would think ...
a translated vision, raw, to a creator
with no eyes - floating, blinking,
pulsing for self, for id - that bleak landscape
screams to be real ... to be heard,
felt, imagined ...
The barren womb ...
between the stars and oblivion,
a frontier unreachable ...
yet standing stark, within my grasp,
bleeding on my blade, precise ...
Do you hear the footfalls?
Do you hear them come?
Do you feel the measure of
The darkness that they plumb?
Approach ...
I will know you ...
no hood or shouldered blade to dispatch,
no gaping pit or sparkling wash of sky,
no bright tunnel or flame, only a timid bite ...
a nibble on the crimped edges
of thought ...
That perhaps creation
is not just the stuff of gods,
but for any beast with the twisted acumen,
or any blind fool with the luck, and two
shiny pints of amniotic fluid ...
Do you hear the footfalls?
Do you know their weight?
Do you feel the tremble of
Their auspices and fate?
In the hop ...
of a toe slipper ...
or the brash stomping of a boot,
they come for all of us ...
they come for one singular, inescapable truth,
in the breath of a newborn baby,
or the shiver of a spine ...
They come ... for us all.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Warning" Poetry Contest, Richard Lamoureux, Judge & Sponsor.
beware ...
they are coming
I hear them as they tap their invariable
pulses on my spirit
like steel drums in the Cruzan night
all at once frightening
and irresistibly intoxicating -
the warm blanket,
doom ...
I find it unremarkable that
they match my heart's thrumming
vying for a truly prominent consideration
like echos of a tragedy
or the warning of a
bell buoy …
do you hear the footfalls?
do you hear the sound?
do you feel the shudder of
a furnace in the ground?
they bring sight
or so you would think …
a translated vision, raw
to a creator with no eyes -
floating, blinking, pulsing for self … for id
that bleak landscape screams to
be real - to be heard, felt
imagined …
the barren womb between the stars
and abject oblivion -
a frontier unreachable,
yet standing stark within my grasp
bleeding on my blade,
precise ...
do you hear the footfalls?
do you hear them come?
do you feel the measure of
the darkness that they plumb?
approach ...
I will know you
no hood or shouldered blade to dispatch
no gaping pit or sparkling wash of sky
no bright tunnel or flame
only a timid bite -
a nibble on the crimped edges
of thought,
that perhaps creation is not
just the stuff of gods,
but for any beast with the twisted acumen
or any blind fool with the luck
and two shiny pints of
amniotic fluid ...
do you hear the footfalls?
do you know their weight?
do you feel the tremble of
their auspices and fate?
in the hop ...
of a toe slipper
or the brash stomping of a boot
they come for all of us -
they come for one singular, inescapable truth
in the breath of a newborn
the losing of tender innocence
or the shiver of a spine
they come ...
for us all.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, February 28, 2020, rewrite March 3, 2024
It's much too close in here
for loneliness,
or companionship.
Either way,
I grow too small
non-existent
non-essential
undervalued domesticity with insufficient commodity,
just another over-populating parasite
underneath Earth's glamorous backside;
Suppressed incubator within a more integrating place
of nonverbal language
and full-octaned relationship toward outside
somewhere, marginally surfing
flowing symbiotic omni-nutritional fluid
umbilical corded string
for receiving ever more formative function
energetic unction
massive combustion
rebirthing my new Elder synergetic IdEntity
through Ego-recession,
contracting unrhymed rhythm
of fear of fear of fear...
Double-Binding negative threshold
toward appositional Eco-Love prehension;
echoing across echo-developing hemispheres,
inter-wombed regenetic too slow and tight economy
creating EarthTribe's Beloved Ecology
of paradise boundaried with pain
Longing reconnected within universal agency,
being primally related through
RNA's coincidental Hollow Womb Presence,
Earth's self-optimizing cornucopian abundance
revolutioning joyful grace,
redemptive polycoloring place,
regenerate revolving Memory time
as love-drenched EarthMother's space.
Ambidextrous-ionic amniotic fluid,
Janus-faced dual destined
to internally bring forth new life
by purge erupting each metamorphic fertile sac,
draining past generations
into future's new-born hope,
to emerge a womb with sufficient empathic communication
to compassion Earth's warm-wombed community;
reconnecting humane nature's transactional economics
with sacred nature's transcendent ecologics--
Great Transition deducing permacultured functions
inducing biological forms of regenetic polyculture.
We're much too close for racing loneliness,
at loooong sloooow last,
our time to become Beloved CoElational together.
There are 800ml of water in a mother's womb.
Amniotic fluid that flowed and filled your lungs.
It protected you and kept you warm.
You were safe from the decay.
But something happened.
Something went terribly wrong.
The world forced its way in early and washed the fluids away.
Left you weak and twisted.
Water is love.
I've come to understand
At birth you were deprived of its' full satisfaction.
We are hydrophilic.
I've come to understand.
Our bodies ache and strive for water intake.
We share fluids and connect.
We sweat and kiss
We make love and dream of being submerged.
But we also cry.
Bitter.
The sun beamed
And our mouths parched.
We hurt and clawed our way through deserts.
We have lived unhappy.
Unsatisfied.
Now we are afraid of breaking the bond through hydrolysis,
So we remain acidic.
But still I know...
That I have come to love you like water.
I have lived with so much urge and need.
And now I am filled with it.
Like the Atlantic Ocean's vastness.
82 million billion gallons
Flowing and coursing through my insides and washing over me like rain.
60% of my body's existence to share with you.
I love you...
But there is no current... No flow connecting us both
It sits within,
At times crashing like waves and fighting its way...
Urging for tsunamis, a storm... For rain.
Why so much destruction for something so vital and so wonderful?...
There are 800ml of water in a mother's womb.
Amniotic fluid that flowed and filled my lungs.
It protected me and kept me warm.
It made me want to stay.
So I stayed.
Took all of it in until there was nothing left.
Until my lungs found nothing to take in.
But God knew of the world's mistake.
And maybe
He thought of you... So He didn't let me suffocate.
(Dedicated To Submariners All Over The World)
Dived deep in the bowels of the seas
My steely shell’s a womb.
Deep down amidst the oil and grease
I am at peace in the Lovecraftian tomb!
What’s with the antonyms, you may ask?
Two opposite words you’ve used -
One’s a warm and wonderful cask,
The other’s dead and worm-abused.
The words are apt, as you’ll soon realize,
For a sub’s a Faustian hell
Where the soul imperceptibly dies
A place where sub-human’s dwell!
Dimmed lights cast a sepulchral gloom,
Myriad machines sing Orphic songs
Of palpable peril and impending doom;
Each one of us a Houri’s groom!
To us’s denied the kiss of the sun,
Not for us the fresh blown breeze,
We know not when the day’s begun,
Nor when the night’s a-freeze!
Up periscopes and down again
The klaxons’ strident screams
Make us jump from where we’ve lain
To drilled duties in well-oiled teams.
The sighting of a laggard prey,
Spells sure a petard blown,
For a homing submarine fish tail spray
Brings terror to hardened men and grown.
Though through silent prowls of the deep we hunt,
Like coin could be our fate.
Our shell could crack with the depth charge brunt;
With Davy Jones we’d have our date!
But when heightened pulse and throbbing heart
Have ceased their labours wild,
Routine sets in and all is “back to start”
Each one an unborn child.
The sub becomes a womb, you see,
A place where your thoughts get sorted;
An amniotic envelope, safe and cozy,
With fair chance to get aborted!
So I hope now that my ditty’s run its course
The message’s plain and grim
That life and death share the same source -
For a submariner womb and tomb are synonym!
She remembers the night they met at the ball.
He asked her to dance by the Gatsbian pool.
She remembers the sight of women who tear
their clothes off to dive in, and she leaves
the thought of him for one of purifying water,
as she rips off her string of gaudy beads.
Sweat collects on his brow in angry beads
as he strikes at a painted, glossy ball.
His brains are a sack of amniotic water
secreting through his glands into a pool
and he drowns in his mind, which leaves
room only for a single, lonely tear.
Her heaving womb appears to tear
through her crop shirt- her blood in beads
gushes and drops like leaves-
a release of tension- her stress ball
drops- bounces- through a game- of pool ?
She fears- her bloom will die without water.
His turn is over, and he takes a swig of water.
The next player strikes, and the fibers of the cue tear
the threads of the felt, aqua pool
table. The liberated lint forms beads
on the moving stick that strikes the cue ball.
His heart leaps and he leaves.
The plants in her garden have leaves
that wither when she forgets to water
the earth and give each one a ball
of fertilizer, and now she even forgets to tear
out weeds that creep into beds and between beads
in the ejaculating fountain of her avian pool.
He remembers diving into her bottomless pool
on the blanket of her lawn abreast feathery leaves.
His maddened sweat mirrors her beads,
broken, like her emergent water
that announced the internal tear
making way for the ten-pound, screaming ball.
Their voices patter like beads of rain landing on a pool.
They can again have a ball together, even if it leaves
the white water of her breasts in one, joint tear.
Jesus Christ was here ,
in another womb, holy and viable,
He trusted His mother without fear
Unlike his unloved, unborn disciples.
Oh you, little ones, who are one of these,
The essence of innocence,
Tetrarchs of the womb, teachers of trust,
Not by mere syllables do you teach the Word,
You who came forth as a gift from the loving Triune;
But by your very example you are heard.
Those who have hearts let them hear!
Let them see your little way.
Parents betray you because of fear,
Because of what the heartless may say.
You and I, dear child, are the children that God promised.
Betrothed of lady Poverty,
Train us all to be poor in spirit.
Obedient one, who by your very presence,
Honor thy father and thy mother;
Our conscience,...we cannot hear it.
Keeper of the commandments,
Pure, sinless, save the original one,
The vestige, due to Adam's lack,
Forgiven in baptism, for Christ has won.
God's own prophet of Hope, my friend,
Whose blood will be shed,
Speak to the Light you will see at the end,
Father forgive them ,
For they know not what they do.
This will I pray to our Loving Father today,
That in His Mercy, in your last hour,
The peaceful chamber from which you teach
May become your baptismal font.
And that Elizabeth's son, John, who in her womb
Leaped for joy at the presence of Jesus in Mary's own,
May by God's pure Grace, use these holy amnion waters,
To baptize you ...in the name of the Father,
The Son and the Holy Spirit.
And when the amniotic veil of His temple is torn in two,
Into our Father's loving hands,
May the Baby Jesus, .. commend your spirits.
I love you my friends .