Long Miscarried Poems
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On a dark, dark night
two emotional vampires met
their teeth were pearly white.
She was suffering,
he was recovering,
he however kept his wounds
tucked within a left kidney
where they festered
and leaked.
She knew he was her savior, just knew it.
He backed off while moving forwards,
they clutched
they fed off each other.
She told and retold him
of betrayals, her abuse,
her medicated madness.
He listened
dripping a sweet venom
which he called love.
Of course
the relationship was a huge success.
She dug a suicide hole in his chest
and he carried her around
until he they both miscarried.
My little seed in its soft pod.
My little egg fertilised by love.
Splitting and dividing.
A little gift from up above.
My little silver blackberry of cells.
Floating like a balloon.
My body getting ready for you.
I'd hold you in a cocoon.
My little sprouting bean.
Little buddy arms and legs growing.
Little heart beating.
My love overflowing.
My little fish,
In your bubble of water.
I still couldn't feel you.
My sweet darling daughter.
My body kept you warm.
My body helped you grow.
Everything was wonderful.
Little did I know.
Something happened my baby girl.
At fourteen weeks I miscarried you.
My womb empty, baby gone.
I loved you.
Love you still.
Just wish you'd grew.
And those forever on the run,
Vain like rain ‘pon a verdant wood
Lush with leafy weeds wildly grown.
Or early morning’s fog in haze,
Gossamer gauze in its sheer mood
That vanish in lingering laze.
Or take a sun, rising nigh late
From behind tall hills like a hood,
That sets, ere entering my gate
Imagine a mid-summer’s breeze
Bare before I have had it good,
And faces doldrums’ sudden freeze.
Poems all, I was pregnant with
Once ‘pon a time, but now to brood
And miscarried nigh oh like a myth.
_______________________
Reflections |12.03.2026| breeze/wind, fog, sun, woods/weeds, tercet
The dead Titanic love
Once upon a time, a ship sank in the sea, there were lives and loves on it
That was a long time ago, maybe I was alive then
But I lost my life on the land
Now
It will never be mine, I will never be mine, yours is mine
My life has become a mess
Nature miscarried me
From the thicket, I take up my poor but spiritually rich life again
He asked for a miscarriage
I know I can live
Hope has become yours
Weeds will become blooms, I dig the flower bed
It's just imagination, reality is dreaming
Spiritual wealth belongs to a woman
Mine is a mere fraud
My house is yours
It should be family
There will be a living world of desire
Oh, so many thoughts are flying through my mind
Kind and angry wasps
Live there, and I'll write my house over to you
Children should play and laugh there
Dear woman, woman, I accept you
Live there
And I will travel the world, and I will
I will help you, I will support you
I'm William
I would like a woman, a woman
It would be my world
My muse.
I don't find it.
No results.
Life does not support me
I'm the silent dead
I cry even as a dead person and I walk and walk among the dead who live there
I walk among graves, I await my death
Although my death, my longing, has already been fulfilled
I'm dead
I want babies.
I broke it.
When the sh*t hits the fan and the plates hit the walls
And Mummy’s voice screeches, “You ain’t got the balls”
The sound of wood splintering leaves kids with hunches
That once again Daddy ain’t pulling his punches
At least it was wood this time - unlike before
When what Daddy fractured was not just a door
And Daddy’s voice shouts, ‘I work all that I’m able
but when I come home, I want food on the table!”
Upstairs, the children cannot speak their fears
Three kids on their beds with their hands on their ears
While five year old Lucy is wiping her tears
And Tommy chants ‘La La’ to drown what he hears
But ten year old Gerry, wise, for a young lad
Has a best friend with a Saturday Dad
He seems to get by, and he states with a sigh
“I get to go places… and Mum doesn’t cry.”
With siblings sent ‘up’ with no food in their tummy
Because Daddy had to, “Have words with your Mummy.”
Gerry, would get them the food they were lacking
He wasn’t surprised to find Daddy was packing
He’d taken a chance when the rows turned to silence
Which had to be better than out and out violence
Daddy said, “Don’t creep about like a mouse…
from now on, Son… you are the man of the house.”
Lucy was young and she idolised Dad
Tommy was older and, for a while, bad
But Gerry now charged with his own father’s plan
At just ten years old… became a young man
And with Daddy gone to a town far away
Gerry stayed home till his mum had gone grey
But one day she had a new man on her hand
And Gerry was happy to make his own stand
Twas eighteen months later this very deep thinker
Let a girl get to him, hook, line and sinker
He hugged her and kissed her the day she miscarried
Yet he and the woman he loved… never married
Though joyousness impaled,
albeit skewered over poker hot coals
courtesy roaring fiery
molten psychological magma
kindling sparks incinerate
nonetheless inchoate coalescence
asserts, damned feeble endeavor
fostering, glomming, harking
futile hellbent fixation manifests
imperceptible yearning inclination
atavistic aspiration toward archangel
fleetingly overrides pathos
prevalent within pathetic psyche
regarding mental health
linkedin to mein kampf
oft times erratically spiraling
courtesy grievous gravitational heaviness
simultaneously tripping hair trigger
well targeted landmines cratering
impacting cerebral spheres
out of the blue er...
rather fifty plus shades of gray
egregiously, demonically, catastrophically
blasting aching dormant sentimentality
good times with mine
then adoring little girls
sentimentality mythologized
instantaneously vaporized
i.e. hotmail kamikaze outlaws
indistinguishable from in laws
deep seated bombardiers
devastatingly explode
housed deeply within
subterranean nooks and crannies
loosed blade runners
likened figurative windmills spin
madly maxed out
ache'n throb exhausts me
frenzied furious fitbits,
while archenemies incessantly lob
hand grenades pepper spray
senselessly, shamelessly, spectacularly
strafing third eye blind
quickly, nee instantaneously pulverize
incinerating insight into bajillion little pieces
also vaporizing sanity
into smithereens
futile writing relief,
a weathered vane effort
undermined attempts
to accrue spiritual succor
analogous to volcanic bombs
raining nsync with deadly earthquake
forlorn hope for salvation nil!
...But while talking at a diner on day
Autumn happened to make a remark
that being a woman meant giving life,
that pregnancy could bring joy to the heart.
She didn’t know a tranny sat behind her,
a man who pretended he was a girl,
he/she reported Autumn’s errant talk,
and down cashing came Autumn’s whole world.
She was arrested for assigning gender,
her intentions served as no defense,
saying the womanhood may mean children
was deserving of strict punishment!
Autumn protested, she tried to make clear
that she counted herself among the left,
wasn’t left enough to silence the mob,
they wanted scalps and scalps they would get.
Worse still the prisons, now overflowing
with souls convicted of heinous thought crimes,
were not enough, so works camps were opened,
she was sent to slave in a copper mine.
Ten hours a day, just bread and water,
doing labor that made the joints hurt,
no chance for a lawyer, she was now ‘fascist,’
things like justices such ‘kinds’ didn’t deserve.
It got worse still when the guards noticed her,
decided that they wanted to play,
now instead of hauling ore all the time
she was merely brought aside and raped.
By the time that first awful year was over
three times had poor Autumn miscarried,
between the rough treatment, and not being fed,
she had lost so much weight it was scary.
One morning she went out to the pit’s edge,
staring down eight hundred feet below,
with not a single emotion on her face
she stepped forwards and let herself go.
They tossed her body into a mass grave,
acted as if Autumn never were.
She wouldn’t defend the freedom of others,
so none were left to stand up for hers.
Holy Love in Glenda-Sue, deep root of Love
Will challenge you ' And me and all who think
We know? In what directions our lives should
Go'
No reason beyond..Just one (that was love')
She broke out, due to much push and shove!
Carrying a child concived by men against her
Choice way back when.'
A mental age of 'just eleven' not much help or money
Was she given..She birthed her son in a box of
Card' then placed him in care, my God this was
Hard.'
The boy got fostered he grew, and loved gained
A wife, together they faced hard stuff, twice she sadly
Miscarried within their time , so he sought his Mom
Of birth, while in this bind.'
His thoughts of decades.. His guesses why.? That
Kept him grim company, we're soon to die' his Mom
He was to find, in a care home now, still at age 11
In her mind'
But wow.' He sang her a line of amazing grace, then
Broke down; tears covering his face' she finished those
Words.' Like she finished before' when she deliverd her
Son who now serves the Lord.'
You had brought me into this world
when you were only twenty three years old
you must of had the word "mine"
in your thoughts when you named me "Mia"
You had trained me from an infant
on curbing the challenges of life no matter the size
even after I have blossomed into a matured woman
you never stopped training me
I have always been your most safeguarded child
because of my hidden birth defect
unlike my teachers and many others
who had failed me on a daily basis
you could have aborted me, miscarried me
forsaken me in the maternity ward or even born sleeping
but you never gave up on me
you were tenacious enough to overcome it
I knew you have missed out
on receiving legitimate parental support
when you were growing up as a child
but that did not precluded you from becoming a stern
but encouraging mother to my sister and I
The love and affection we may recieve from
our friends, teachers and significant others
would always blow hot and cold thoughout our lives
but your love and care for us would never drop out of sight
Another dead statistic dawns today,
Contempt dissolved foundations love astray.
Malicious memories of miscarried mirth,
Repetitious resolving rends rebirth.
Too far, too strange, oh we have now become.
Decisions bleeding passions cold and numb.
My frozen frigid feelings fade to black
Behold the barracuda's bitter back.
Oblique sidewalks a house no longer home.
Neglect’s hand opened doors for needs to roam.
Bent and broken, beautiful bygone heart
Past promises play the party-line part.
Divided assets fighting custodies
New boxes cardboard tombs of memories.
Separations and somber songs subside
Choice-less children and contemptible chides.
Petitioned courts and mediation pleas
Sustaining into absolute decrees.
Formerly favored family so forlorn.
Forever festers feeble foolishness.
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A collaboration with Catie Lindsey.
Iambic Pentameter & Alliteration.