Long Fetus Poems
Long Fetus Poems. Below are the most popular long Fetus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fetus poems by poem length and keyword.
Inside scrapings of darkness
how restless and doomed,
the bellow crashing in like
an agonized moon;
the tunnel hears blood whooshing
in pits full of rain,
hurling damn imaginings
of her fetus’ pain,
wails rip through the stained window
and grinds near right lung,
heart reeks for a babe frozen
knowing breath is gone;
if I could pluck her memories
from uterine wall,
to touch sun’s glint christening
new eyes on dawn’s call.
-----------
*Sadly,research estimates that approximately 1 in 4
pregnancies end in miscarriage; and most women
experience a grief period during such occurrences.
For Susan's If These Walls Could Talk Contest
Thy mouth dripping with drool.
North blisses and quick-witted doth unfool.
Thou shalt seclude from middling teenth.
Plummeted into a hornet tool.
Wailed as eerie as a panicked fetus.
Didst thou stay fed in the crumbs of mool?
Times beest tough about shimmering graves.
Grumbled, tucked, hadst a mischievous lol.
Thy lure hath evil jagged, full of witch writhes.
Thou began to shake, shrieking by the bleeding pool.
Squirm bosom disheveled and screeched with fear.
Whispered oddly and burst the sweet aroma of bool.
Unison of hoof drank fluffy white icing scream.
Scraggly faith and toothed heart not cool.
Haunted and rhyming a couplet kills.
Sirrah and the mistress prayed to the zirrahed hazrat tool.
I could be less positive of time's resolving karma
without not(not) as negative
binomially defining
what is not polynomial not
and what must be more positive
you see, or not.
This double negative binding positive
hurts my bicamerolling brain
intuiting what is not Right
deducing what could be Left
to permacultural imaginings
balancing economies with ecologic
synaptic sap reversing
not aptic snap
fusing neural patterns
of polynomial permaculturing positions
overwhelming this knot of double nots.
To be
is to belong meta-diastolic,
I hope a positive existential phenomenon,
whatever that might mean.
But, too long this longish longing
is not to not be,
it is simply a not
waiting for a second;
to not not long
incarnates belonging grace
and not not karmic knots
in negative implicating space
without a proper polynomial place
for knotish naughty
not not negative integrity.
Karma double-masks what grace uncovers
as incarnation reverses back
toward naked origin of well-wombed undouble-knotting fetus,
DNA enscribing nurture's primal covenant,
warm and fertile buddha-care.
Uncovered human nature
erupts through Janus-masked cocoon
discovering nature's
uncovering intuition of polyculturing unity;
and competitive not,
hidden within ego-defensive
cognitive dissonance,
immune instinct
repulsing tied-up distinctions.
Biting into life's positive oysters
risks gnashing knotty pearls.
It was an old tiled house that I was born,
My mother grappled to give birth to me, That night was the worst one for weself Which made my mother as a rebirth, All the family members accursed me a lot, But I was very cheerful to come out,
From the dark fetus fluid sac of womb, I condemned myself for not doing any crime, That gave her the greatest punishment, Thank almighty fo making me and her alive, God sent millions of angels to the globe, Who had given birth many innocent infants, No wonder for me to praise her patience,
That she maintained for more than ten months, Though she was fond of eating fondants, She never dined that was not divine for me ,
She sacrificed a great deal of things for giving birth, That I couldn't compensate in the life, Verbbring into the world was a worthwhile, That depended upon the worthy of a woman,
Where was the mercy to come from for myself,
I had no doubt,it was given from her genes, Could you save the sacred feminine gender?,
That guided glory to the womanhood.
The many days and nights caring for your disabled spouse picking up many pieces lot's of tissues for crying in silence you know you matter an yet you are the sole caregiver an yet you yourself are broken you begin to feel worthless because how can you help more when you suffer with PTSD and you are caring for someone suffering with ptsd the sheets are always sweatie night terrors now you hear the cries as you awakened within the night time broken having your own night terrors daily calendars medication despenser you are a disabled pair an yet here we are my wearing wires pregnant the fbi hearing my fetus heartbeat he never left Vietnam and yet I'm here holding my spouse he's here holding me i am reminded of Gene Hackman finally days watching his deceased wife hisbcaregiver suffering while with Alzheimers her remains mummified the two of them dying with their dog alone in their home my prayers are with his family his loved ones sometimes when you care for others you find that you yourself become invisible their needs are always ahead of your pwns that's what make you the compassionate person you are someone else needs you more and that's what it means to be a caregiver to always give more of yourself i am fondly reminded of Elizabeth Dole Fondation her dedication to her husband and the many caregivers and their families
Gangly Longfellow walled in Thoreau and thru...
Well stocked with
wordsworth lxiii numbered yesteryear
born as predicted by
bubba's zayda longtime seer
while in utero premier
ultrasound detected
smudged embryonic fetus
whoosh auditory proto language unclear
surprisingly enough sounded analogous
to murmuring... huh yepper sonneteer
vaguely resembling, yes
William Shakespeare
though burbling, gurgling,
requiring absolute zero noise to hear
kickstarting, reverently warbling
difficult, diligent, distinct yawping,
nonetheless reckoned as dérailleur,
viz swiftly tailored
inchoate anatomical gear
hurriedly and harriedly styled
pièce de résistance
yours truly born with silver dictionary
in his mouth, I f***'* swear
unusual biological phenomena
drew pediatricians far and near,
which (no surprise) determined
English major as academic career
matriculating upon immediately
exiting birth canal whip smart derriere
i.e. (ŧ§), spread like wildfire, where
media hounds blitzkrieg stunned to stare
not at me but bare
naked lady in no mood...ready to tear
away sophisticated audiovisual equipment
understandably on verge going nuclear
furious, (this told me later in life as here
say), she quickly (albeit groggily)
curtly demanded fair
remuneration, and milked
infant me as cash cow profiteer,
her eyes aglitter signaling,
shining, seeing... gold
let whoever sneer
earning money with initial gasp of air
freeing parents to live
within lap of luxury
world wide web sightseer,
yours truly received
royal carpet treatment everywhere
crisscrossing the globe
accoutered with most
expensive designer babywear
obliviously prattling, jabbering, gabbling...
invariably drawing throngs
across entire northern hemisphere
broadcast as podcast across atmosphere
all across the universe hoodwinking
convincing many of "FAKE" poetic story
concoction courtesy adept fictioneer.
Upon our (yours truly and his missus) exchanging holy matrimony vows
Ultrasound allowed, enabled
and provided obstetrician to zoom,
image courtesy sonogram
showing fledgling fetus,
thus we pledged our troth after spouses' womb
(approximately halfway
between her pregnancy) did balloon
uterus, wherein conception
delineated birth of eldest daughter, and many a tomb
morrow later she resides in Oakland, California.
I attempt reasonable rhyme about...
oh happy yesteryear
when newly minted groom (me) wed bride
family in attendance cried
as Justice of Peace officiated as legal guide
extolling pregnancy of she who could not hide
figurative bun in the oven which matured inside
after two gametes fused and multiplied
countless times quickly birthing embryo
baby on the way nullified
application of premarital sex
and attendant use of contraceptives.
Clear out of the blue
thee wife asked me
opinion if wedded bliss between us
ha, how heretical to think otherwise
since romance long since flew
out the figurative window
impossible mission to feign significant other
analogous to brand new
alluring, beguiling, captivating... tchotchke.
All kibitizing aside, a requited love with zeal
I attest invisible spokes support unseen wheel
when turning sparking genuine care and concern
act as buffer against emotional hemorrhage
and received good housekeeping approval seal
more applicable to most recent
elapsed wedding day anniversaries
ex post facto after both daughters flew the coop
finding me reeling with empty nest syndrome,
whenever yours truly reviews mental newsreel,
now absence of offspring, akin
to psychological wound I did heal
no longer mourning natural course
of begetting progeny more readily
accepting their necessary autonomy doth appeal.
Though marriage devoid of physical intimacy wife
get along swimmingly, we exhibit less strife
than days of yore effulgence promulgated
to all readers unbeknownst to human life
form characterized by bloke,
whose words appeared across screen
exemplifying, embodying, and edifying
regarding beloved simian counterpart
bandying playfully sometimes
drubbing and drumming my body
while she (commandeering
certain orifices of her body) emulates sounds of fife.
There is no God in this lightbulb.
Only the slow hum of its dying.
My shadow curls in the shape of a fetus
on the tile floor,
unwanted by chairs,
forgotten by the table.
I sip yesterday's coffee like a ritual.
Cold. Black.
It does not speak to me
but I pretend it does.
The walls are beige and unjudging.
They do not hate me.
They simply watch.
Their silence is sterile,
like the nurse who saw me cry at twelve
and said, You'll grow out of it.
I trace the dust on the window ledge
like it's a constellation
one only I remember.
Even the spiders don't write here anymore.
Their threads gave up last winter
when I stopped praying.
Outside,
the city is still sinning.
It wears neon like confession.
But I stay here,
an apostate in a cubicle cathedral,
waiting for my name to mean something
to someone
again.
Life on the edge would certainly become a novel,
if I included all the chapters of my life’s journey
from that of an old soul, from pure consciousness
to egg and sperm colliding, to embryo, to fetus,
to that of a baby, a child, youth, a teenager,
a young adult, a middle aged man, this old man
who has walked the walk of the living and the dead
with ghostly shadows floating in night time forests
blanketed by sheets of blackness, permeated with flakes,
specks of light from distant planets, long lost stars,
forgotten lives, as the reflective moon, on high,
tries to shed light upon the nightly shadows,
brighten the edges of all the black clouds
that fill all the empty spaces above the tree tops.
Life on the edge – I have been tripping – have gotten up,
have fallen from grace, yet stands up to face adversity,
have been trapped, yet set myself free, been lost
yet have found my way back to myself.
Life on the edge – time reveals all, all the efforts,
all the accomplishments, all the failures, the defeats,
and all the losses become weightless in the light,
of an old man who sits alone, on his own locked up
in the cage of his own design, his own making
as nightmares continue to haunt - to the end of his journey.
Life on the edge – has been sharp, dull, keen without tears,
in spite of all that life, fate, karma, choice have lain upon
the experiences this old soul has suffered, endured, enjoyed
and yet the dreams of this child – before and after he became –
still linger on in the fading embers of his life’s journey
even if they are but ashes blown by cold cruel winds
putting out the raging fires that once lit up the skies
and wormed the heaven and the hearts of a few mortal women.
Life on the edge – of this plane, this dimension, this universe –
can it really be as we see it ?, is it karma ?, is it fate ?, is it design ?
Does history repeat itself ?, does it come back to haunt us ?,
in another time, in another place, in a different space.
Life on the edge – next time around – will be a prayer
to never, ever have to live on the edge again,
to know no more emotional pain, no poverty of heart, soul,
the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those in control,
those in the know, of the nature of this old man
who has shown – specks, flakes of light, light that has
burned so bright, has flickered, has long since taken flight.
B. J. “A” 2
March 10th 2004
He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End
He encompasses all of space and time, all knowing, all powerful, all loving
He cannot be out thought, he can not be out run, out flown, out given
He knows every man, every woman, every child, every fetus
He is the Word, he sent The Word and the Word was the light
He rules the World, the Universe, Sun, Moons, Stars, and Planets
He rules the affairs of countries, continents and man
He sets the seasons, the winds, the oceans, and rules the climate The Law condemns man, the Blood saves man-kind
Man cannot earn salvation by being good, good deeds, or works
With the saving grace of God comes repentance and works
Salvation is believing in the Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus Christ
It is by accepting the Gift of Grace
It is the Blood plus nothing
He is the Great “I Am”