Long Midwife Poems
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though avast percentage
of Stone Temple Pilots, she push peep pulls
viz vernacular speaking population
to most pious take as gospel
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays across the board
thus easter tis no exception to the golden rule,
where santa claus reached an a chord
follow auspicious signs alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across scantily populated Earth
asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art learned lesson)
to stave off barren ness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with help from Lord
and Tailor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by Wildcat fanatics, who unbelievably
espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators loudly screamed
akin to the soundgarden
of ferocious cats roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword
thence entire team handed
Taj Mahal shaped award
which aforementioned ass hide lacks, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke
thus above iterated verses somehow
needs just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative toke
hen to Rabbinic, generic fanatic primal
tribal village people clan destine woke
and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious perp ported berth
when (sans antiquity) trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating arrival of the Easter Bunny,
who brings mirth
and hop poly distributes sweet treats,
which children as grown adults,
no matter necessity for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association chastises candy
manufacturers bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched, and decadent, trait
then adultery verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged reprobate.
...She went with him and she had to, inside a knot of dread,
distracted by all of the things that she feared lay ahead,
disrobed with her mind in a haze, she would not meet his eyes,
complied mechanically when he said, “Now, open your thighs.”
Expected to feel his weight, and the fast beat of his heart,
but Geren just lower his head besides her sacred parts…
the pleasure that took her just then caught her quite unaware,
she’d never even hear of men using their tongue down there,
and though he was her captor, and her life a lousy lot,
all she wanted in that moment was for him not to stop.
When it was finally over, and she lay in his arms,
her mind struggled with all of it, had he not done her harm?
Had not he been one of the men stealing her innocence?
How could she reconcile this with what he had done then?
Perhaps it was a one-time things, since she bore his child,
but that was quickly dispelled, the next night was as wild!
In fact, it became regular, him seeking her pleasure,
wasn’t she a concubine? Why treat her like a lover?
Why smile when he passed her by, why see that she fell well?
Was it only for the child? She couldn’t really tell.
And for nine moths she wondered on whether this man could care,
but hope is torment to a slave, and so she didn’t’ dare.
When the day came she was afraid, of things gone wrong and death,
she knew that for many women birth could bring their last breath.
But Geren has his doctor there, paid for a good midwife,
and despite her petite body, everything went allright.
Admist a pain she’d never knowns, she wondered, in a haze,
why Geren went to such expense for a new infant slave?
Why did he hold her in his arms, and haze with raptured Eyes?
She didn’t understand it and was too tired to try.
But then he called to everyone, said, “Bear witness to me,
I claim my daughter for this house, forever she is free!”
This brought a gasp from the doctor, he must’ve thought him mad,
to claim the slave-born as your own, to call yourself its dad…
the midwife knelt down by her said, “By the gods you’re blessed,
your children will never be slaves, sleep now, you’ve earned your rest.”
She passed out watching Geren lift his daughter up with pride,
and when she woke she found them both cuddled up at her side.
CONTINUES IN PART V
My dear Siblings,
I voted for Hillary.
I would have preferred Bernie,
but she agreed to much of his platform-especially universal health care and education and seemed to be cognizant of environmental/climate change issues and bonus--she's a woman!
How I feel now? I am still haunted by the sound of my millennial son as he stood in the shower the morning after the election,
sobbing,
grief stricken,
mourning the loss of freedom and safety for many of his friends of different races,
nationalities,
sexual identities
and religions.
I am both immensely proud of him and fear for him
when I remember him coming out of the bathroom after that gut wrenching and utterly hopeless outpouring of tears.
He wore the look of a young man going off to war
and declared his allegiance and his personal protection to all those now named targets of hatred.
I'm not sure that I would have the courage to be a millennial now.
I recently watched about 20 snapping turtle hatchlings emerge, one by one, from a small hole in the sand bank above the pond and embark on a hilarious topsy-turvey tumble down the embankment and disappear into the dark stillness under the lush green vegetation of the shallow water.
Along the way some of them appeared to die.
At one point, the lifeless forms were starting to pile up near the exit hole of the nest and I feared for those still waiting for their turn to feel the sunlight on their faces.
What amazed me was to see how these little creatures responded to each other.
One would walk right over the top or lightly brush up against the side of an apparently dead sibling
and suddenly they were moving along together.
I imagined one saying to the other,
"Come on. You can do it. Don't stop now."
or maybe "I'll race you",
like I used to say to Jeremy when I wanted him to move faster.
I was relieved and very satisfied when the last one slipped into the pond;
a proud midwife.
I can only hope that the extreme disregard for the Earth and all her creatures,
including human beings,
that is spewing out of our political system and corporations
will incite all of us to a new way of being;
to getting everybody to the pond.
Lovingly,
Kerry
Thunder and lightning ruled the black night
As the frightened young mother struggled
Beads of sweat ran down her pretty face
The old midwife calmly sponged off sweat
She hummed a lullaby to soothe her pain
Praying that the husband would be back soon
Five miles to travel in treacherous weather
Seeking the one doctor for hundreds of miles
Twelve hours of labor now seemed like days.
Fell trees and shaved off roof tops, toppled by whipping winds
Rising rivers were swollen, and flooded make shift roads
Endless rain poured like there would be no end
Meanwhile her unborn child lay bridged as it battled for release
Suddenly the door burst open and the doctor rushed in
His clothes sticking to his skin; there was no time to change
With his palm he felt her forehead asking pertinent questions
He and the old midwife tried manually to turn the exhausted child
At each attempt, mother’s painful cry was heard in the distance
She gave one guttural scream and usherd her baby into the world
The child, born limp, barely breathing as the mid wife took her away
He starred into her eyes, and knew that she was beyond his help
He brought the new born to lie in her mother’s warm arms
The silence was noticeable; the raging storm had passed
The sound of light rain, now a comfort, gently tapped upon tin roof
In a soft, weak voice she called her husband and managed a smile
Then she blessed her child with words from a mother’s heart
“May you be a light, swift as lightning when days grow dark.”
“May you have wisdom and foresight beyond your days”
“May your heart nurture and remain open to love”
“Like rain, may you bring life to all “
“Born this stormy night, your name will be “Rain”.
~*~
By : Audrey Carey
Note: Imagination at work:) Written for Constance's "Rain, The Story" Contest.
My imagination took me to some little village in Africa. This scene is played out in
many villages where health care is non-existent. However, there's always, thanks
to God, a wise, caring "midwife" to help mothers during delivery.
Everyday, countless miracles are performed by God through "midwives"!
"I am the absolute First and the absolute Last
I am the esteemed and scorned
I am the shameless woman and the holy elect
I am the wife and virgin
I am the unseen mum and ever-present daughter
I am my mother’s members
I am a midwife and do not give birth to any
and my lover brought me forth
I am the holy solace of my pains of labour
I am the bride and the groom
I am the virgin mother of my mighty father
I am my husband’s sister
and he is my first begotten offspring and my king
I am a queen of my seed
I am a lowly slave of the one who prepared me
I am the staff of his might
and he the olive tree rod of my quite advanced age
I am a silence unknown
I am an eternal idea remembered much
I am the sound of my name
I am the soft and sweet voice whose sound is manifold
I am the word whose fine appearance is multiple"
“I am the bright Alpha and the Omega
I am the very First and Last
I am the Beginning and the very end
I am with your soul forever
I am the father, I am the kind mother
I am the ever-present child
I am the incorruptible and the pure
I am the beloved of life
I am the first offspring who was begotten
I am the righteous one of life
I am the son of the infinite Father
I speak even as I have heard
I command as I received the loud order
I will now show you even as I have found”
"I am the sun of knowledge and mist of ignorance
I am shame and fearlessness
I am the forever shameless and the one ashamed
I am strength and fear themselves
I am bloody war and ever-fleeting peace of all
I am the disgraced and the grand being of the all"
"I am the remembrance of the Pleroma
I am the great abundance of light
They who follow me will not walk in darkness
They will have the life’s light, for I’m the world’s light"
"I am a woman existing in every known fear
I am the mindless and wise
I am in my might whenever I fall and plummet
I am carefree in a pleasant garden filled with plants"
“I am the door you now see
If anyone goes through me, they will be saved
And will go in and out and find the garden"
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 can't put Humpty Dumpty back inside his egg
once the shell has cracked and broken."
Determined not to have yet another unfinished poem
take up space in a notebook, I persevered
spoiling myself with ice cream, chocolate fudge slivers,
a few cherries, and a liberal squirt of caramel sauce.
I indulged myself with a reward after the first verse.
I've never liked dill pickles, so when I couldn't find
the right rhyming word for verse two, I didn't eat those.
Pregnancy or not, I wasn't going to suffer puckered lips
because my muse refused to be pregnant with me.
She'd have made a useless midwife anyway.
Said she'd be back when she got a birth announcement.
I suffered alone and pushed this baby out
with the same force a laborious woman uses to birth a child.
No epidural in the spine, although I did partake
in a bottle of wine during the entire nascence process.
"LOOK," I screamed. "After fourteen hours of labor
it's an eight-pound boy."
Actually, it was more like eight hours of labor
to deliver a fourteen-line Sonnet, and lots of anxiety.
I took comfort knowing this baby wouldn't need breast feeding.
Now that it's here, it will be reread a time or ten...
a line edited here or a tweak somewhere.
It will be mollycoddled, burped, and pampered
but not with the naked butt baby kind.
I'll sing it to sleep when I'm the one needing a lullaby,
and I'll be glad it doesn't cry for a two am bottle.
I won't worry about it getting sick or growing up too quickly
because ten years from now it'll still be my baby.
Birthing a child is difficult work but we both survived the labor.
and my firstborn is not crumpled in a basket, lying on the floor.
Have you seen the movie
you know the one
Woody Allen,
the call girl, son
That’s my favorite
Mango
sauce,
sushi
sashimi
land of the lost
bad Santa, Will Farrell
Italian singers,
Bach,
Beethoven
your little fingers
Try this salad
Thai and sweet
I’m getting fat
what shall we eat
Chianti is good
neath these lights
sangria, and chili
lets cook tonight
have you read this book
War and Peace
I wanted to, someday
but wait for me
we’ll read each chapter
a verse in our bed
have you read
Gabriel Marquez
I’m feeling depressed
in one of my moods
coffee is best
when laying with you
Blender
high speed
look at it go
garlic
oil
oregano
make me a drink
the one that I like
Mexican food sounds good tonight
I love the feel
the look of this bar
shadows
light
particular charm
tell me that joke
tell it to him
the Scottish one
to my Scottish friend
Lets get a boat
fly a kite
go to new york
stay up all night
God is agape
do you know what that means
real Chili, you know
doesn’t have beans
I had a dream
It made me so angry
I don’t like Tabasco
on chicken fried gravy
Damn that’s hot,
I’m starting to cry
quit rubb’n your chin
without you I’d die
after we kiss
how far do we go
your driving is crazy
stay on the road
I think I have loved you
all of my life
my mother was his
birth midwife
chop up the garlic
pour me some wine
I think vinyl siding,
a capitol crime
wood
floors
solid
doors
a big back yard
a book case of course
can’t answer my phone
I’m quiet today
you know how I get
all there or away
buffalo burgers
tawaka and fries
”the best in the world”
ya right, that’s a lie!
But I do like these chips
take a picture with one
cashews from India
or Vietnam
drink your water
I swear that I will
you never told me that water can kill!!
tomatoes, fresh
I’ll pay with my cash
I love you so much I could (censord) !
Form:
(A Thank You To God)
1.
God!
I love this life so much,
How your creation turns me ON,
I wake up singing the joy of each new day,
Even as my body aches with age.
The gift of every morning’s light,
And rain, that precious gift,
Gift that keeps on giving,
Fuel of your abundance.
Seeds, barely seen, that feed and house my soul
A daily miracle, whisper the truth,
Of Your ever present love.
How farmer in me swoons in admiration
At your abundant provision,
Your love, like the rainbow, has many aspects.
Poetry and music that the ether carries,
Fills every dream with water
That like a fish, I have learned to swim in,
And star dust’s sexual nature,
Whose secret longings birth all living matter,
Though inert, how its dreams of movement,
Forge our very nature.
Oh Lord, the fertility of Your imagination
Fills me with such a longing,
Stand by me like a midwife,
Husband me into Your Presence,
Thus make my OFF a new ON.
2.
Take me,
Take me to where your heart so open
Waits only for my laughter,
Thrills in each moments progress,
Stumbling, I fall before You,
Never fear, your hand in anger,
Plant me, plant my feet on Your Path,
Make my life a counter point
To your melodic line, your leading
Show me how my tiny spark
Enriches even Your existence.
3.
Forgive me
Lord, when I’m pissed OFF at You
Or at some inner failing in me,
Open my eyes to the truth
As You’d have me see it,
Those disappointing strangers,
Help me to hear with both ears.
You who have always loved me,
Even before Your Son’s blood washed me clean
And made my every stain as white as snow.
When life takes something from me,
That I think really matters
And anger blinds me to You
Remember I still need you...
When I’m OFF at the races
Putting ego through its paces
Remind me that the battle’s won already,
Loving You is all I have to do....
Life in You so easy,
One, Two, Three!
Brian Johnston
January 6, 2015
From Sunday to Sunday,
We work hard like the donkeys in sironko;
Moving to and fro like roadside vendors and hawkers.
Like the holy spirit has descended upon as,
The way it was on pentecost,we move up and down all day.
We go to the laboratory from the ward,
From the theater to the morgue,
To the store from the supervisor's office.
Thinking hard and keeping our brains in check,
We go to work everyday to save the dear lives of mothers and babies.
A blow of sadness hits our faces,
Whenever we lose one of them to death.
Regret fills our hearts for where we were negligent;
And we live never to forget that moment,
When,we relaxed on duty and messed things up.
Sometimes,a feeling of giving up kisses our lips;
And soon,when we are yet to verbalize it,
That we have given up and cannot try anymore,
Or that we are tired and clients should leave us alone, give us a break;
Sense overrules, and we return to our ethical boundaries.
We work,work,work;- like Rihanna sings.
We work and work and work till the work itself is tired of us;
But still,we work to save their lives; mother's and babies.
Pushing and screaming; crying and fighting,
Quarrelling and abusing us;
We urge her to breathe in,and breathe out;
To relax and calm down,and think not about anything other than her baby;
Whom,she has carried for nine months,
Persevering through the sleepless nights and pregnancy complications
Just to see her child become someone who will breathe and live on its own.
On the other hand,we desist from the temptation to slap her;
She can mean to be disappointing sometimes; you know??
A smile tickles our lips,and our teeth,we hide no more.
Sweat runs down our faces,but we forget to wipe it away, overwhelmed with joy!
The crying of the baby,is the joyful laughter of the mother.
It is the peaceful relief of the midwife.
Allover the world,that is what we do. That's our daily routine.
After the rain
I share your pain
Let me lessen the burden
Come,
Hold my hand
Let me wrap my arms
Around your frame
Hold you close
‘till our river overflows with
our heart’s nose
I feel the fire in your heart
That lives for the buried and alive
May their souls live on forevermore
I’m barely hanging on
I look back to see
how far I’ve come
We were held by the same arms
I was precious in her eyes
Perfect she thought
With tears in her eyes
Warm , rolling off her face
Onto mine
Even when I screamed
Bloody was I
On her wooden floor
Pulled out by a midwife
My heart cries
For the joy love brings to our eyes
I get lost sometimes
In the tears in your eyes
Rolling off your face onto mine
I get lost in time
with the frown drawn upside down upon your mouth
Knowing your time is fastly approaching
I watch the colors of our yesterday
Yellow and purple hues
Sunshine and royal blood
For the God above
I hold my breath and fight back the tears
But they come back stronger every time
Walking around but getting nowhere
The weather drags me down
We can only wait
For time to pass us by
And take me along the ride
I know how it goes
Gold cemented under dirt and soil
You can breathe in me when I close my eyes
You are the reason
I am broken in unbreakable parts
It kills me to see you die
You drift away out of my life
I’ve figured it out
Rolling thunder’s wrath struck our house
After the rain
I survived
I won’t hold on too tight
I’ll let you go and let you be where you belong
I’m barely hanging onto the thread of our love,
It kills me to see that you’re gone
Our distance has strengthened our bond
I hope you reach that happy medium
That final destination
The crystal palace
With chairs of gold
More precious than diamond
Oh what joy will it bring
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
11/11/19