Long Ovaries Poems
Long Ovaries Poems. Below are the most popular long Ovaries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ovaries poems by poem length and keyword.
The water like a rumpled sheet
Curled limpless at my feet
And then unrumpled on the sand
Cast its lassitude and moan
Audibly pulling slips of water above a golden knee
The sands' clean belly dissatisfied
Make naked now the barren eye.
I keeping here again and again
I know not truly why
Except its me, perhaps, since a child
To find my mother's knee pain
Or when my daily hunger returns again
Something like that
Since the waters separated me
And left me on the dry land where I drown
Here comes the tide that brings the milk
Here comes the breast against rock jagging teeth
The water dissolving us with each caress
Into elements of stone,
Into blood bleached by the sun's indifferent tongue
The rocks dissolving take so long
The tides gnaw there erect mass with soft wet lips
And against their body firm, rub and groan
Dissatisfied again, a perennial complaint
Some one left the toilet seat up again
Some one used this tree and did not flush
Some one dragged their feet across the rug
The world has such rumpled lazy view from here
This vasty womb, is fumbling and old
With all the debris dumped upon its ovaries
The unknown chemicals of contraception
Makes me glad that I was already born
Makes sad if I must endure alone.
She has been rooming strangers all her life
Muddy footed rivers, sorrow brimmed with tears, rain
Sulfured and jaundiced from asthmatic skies
There is a RED LIGHT
In a district where nothing fresh remains
Expect the spate of hysterectomies
And some Jack the Ripper with a knife
What if she was your wife, answer me
You dumb husband man to such a precious wife
What if you had to drink this milk salt as hell
Because this island is all you got?
O she keeps through seasons swell of womb
Or face fist pounded by the breeze
Her covenant of fruitfulness and replenishment
Like marks upon a sheet
Rocks that drain themselves in her crumble
And dissolve like a mortal heap
Fallen to her ankle upon a naked floor
I cannot penetrate too deep
We have a barrier more than skin
The ambiguity that is threshing mesh
That crinkles too our flesh.
Life is only a rumpled sheet, sweetheart
I love you moaning and lapping
The presence of my dusty feet.
"She is brave and strong and broken all at once." — Anna Funder
When spoken, it might seem innocent
Like any word – just a word
Afterall it doesn’t have hands to maim
It doesn’t have feet to trample the faith
Even though it rests on the tongue
In such a way that it freezes the soul
It is just a word – no less, no more
Just a word
But it rises up in my center, breathing
Harsh pangs, deafening my hope
Pouring out something akin to acid
Inside my mind – into my thinking, my remembering
It is like an ocean filled with black, bitterness
Weeping that gorges itself on my dreams,
Resting like fog over the hills of my memories
Just a word, playing sharply
Biting into my flesh, skin peeled back
Layers of aching, throbbing like
Grief that never breaks away from its
Primary need for misery that is as angry
As the shadows that surround it
Murky memories unfolding, stirring up the past
The heavens open up and pour out souls
The unborn who were once given the fate
Then, just as quickly, the chance was taken away…
Infertility bringing with it – the same shame
That remembers only to drench the disgrace
In murmuring tears, like small blessings
Who drip, melting away the dream, silencing
The hope – but giving something new to the soul –
Relief from the degradation, the stain
That the word barren suggests,
The desolate word, the destitute – the infertility
Of – not only the dream, but the beautiful
In touching the face of belief that flavors every reality
The need to see – reflected in that child
A smile from the womb who brought faith to life
Only a word, but a word that silences the truth
I’m not just a woman because of my ovaries
I’m a woman because of my hope that believes
Even through infertility – I have a purpose
That only God could have stimulated within me,
A instinct, a intuition, a intention – blessed by the
Love of a Creator who gave me hope –
Despite the verdict, infertility can’t kill the place inside
That believes in the love that only God can provide!
So we matured, mama, but, it feels that we are still ever-lasting and it seems,
That time smoothes, levels out our movements but it sharpens our faces and our whims
We’re no longer gun powder and honey, but stone paving as in Europe we’ve seen
Beautiful children, mama so you know, already have new beautiful children.
We like taking pictures of them in favorable light under shady linden
Life’s smarter than the living, that’s clear after one third of the way to the pilgrim.
All that scared me in childhood is now like a fat guy with ukulele absurd,
Even indicators of future decay are clear and law-governed, not blurred
It’s scary not to die young, mama, but, you see, it tourns out I’m not that rare bird.
I am now everything in one – Jackie Chan and Santa Claus,
My occupation is nothing, mama, but structuring chaos.
All I’m developing, mama, is the skill of holding a pause.
I am no zero mark anymore, no young ovary, no cheeky nestling
It’s “young ovaries” now that stare at me with jealousy as if I am king.
In simple people I give rise to hatred, to complicated jealousy clings.
What about happiness, mama? It is all result of seductives or toxins.
For me it is this feeling I get at night in a taxi quite often, it seems,
When crossing forty second and tenth street, direction from Kabatas to Taksim.
It’s rare that mortality and replaceability is felt to this extreme.
Sometimes I feel as a commander in exile, as weed among grass family found.
In a world where face is all that matters, all that interestes me is the inside out.
Drummers of existence are playing with sticks, waiting for a sign – for someone to shout.
Nope, love could not have saved me from this state – in fact it didn’t, it stalled.
I won tons of beauty here hence it’s natural that I’m fused, come on!
But I’ll sit on your lap, empty to glorify it century long.
SO MUCH DEPENDS...(Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars)
So much depends upon the girl with red current meandering from her woman
And the clots of clumped up thoughts that occasionally disturb her flow.
So much depends on the wisdom from her oval shaped head
And the greyish-pink lips
How from her round belly an eruption of ‘woke’ perspectives
Has to leave others with a need to be introspective
“So much depends on this observer of the universe”
Her views hanging from the sides like ovaries
To provide boundaries
So she can never be too sinful, too deceitful, too proud
Too round, dark , round
Sinful;
Deceitful;
Unkind
So much depends on the girl in the African print caftan and a bandana on her short processed hair
Fearful of oblivion
Trembling before disappointment
Stake in back while she too wields one against another
Never too good, never too honest
Her only decency in her merciful lies
Her only fault is being faulted
And that is before she takes a good look in the mirror
So much depends on the girl with short manicured nails with transparent nail polish,
Pecking away at the keyboard while hoping tears will flow
Because all that’s at play within her is too inward
Relentlessly refusing to flow out
So much depends on her sockets to let out tears, the kind that fall naturally and heavily
So much depends on her other half
To explain the sudden outburst of betrayal, what is allegiance?
But she knows not to poke those demons
For they may wake up with renewed zeal
Close a chapter while your hands still work
Goodbye to that song that was the anthem in your special little earth,
Heaven is your only haven
Heaven is your only haven
If only you show your worth.
“So much depends on this observer of the universe.”
Written on 25/12/15 after a very long, beautiful and blessful (poetic licence anyone) day.
Already twenty two years has passed since the first day I opened my
eyes
and to confirm that I’m alive
The doctor slapped my butt then I cried
everyone was happy and mom smiled
but for me it was just the beginning of an eternal war
they thought I cried ’cause I felt hurt
but they didn’t know that I never wanted to come
it wasn’t my decision, and no one asked my opinion
Did I say I wanna join your world?
Did I knock mom’s tummy and beg her to take me away?
I’ve never complained of living with many ovaries in the dark
I’ve never felt lonely, never felt sad
and honestly I was pitying those who have been chosen before me
their lives aren’t better than mine anyway
’cause actually we’re all on the same side
living with nothing
running over nothing
fighting for nothing
well we are the twins of mister nothing…
I tried to convince myself
that I could make a change
I tried to believe that I could seduce tomorrow
I tried to believe that I’m gonna be a hero
I tried to believe that I could manipulate life like my shadow
but I didn’t know that I’m gonna be manipulated by my shadow
I never knew that once they arrest you in life’s prison
you can’t never ever be freedom
And if you ask the reason for this cruel decision
they will tell you your birth was a crime
and once you are here there is no way to look back
I was born to live alone
I was born to be my parent’s robot
I was born to please everyone
I was born to marry mister pain
in other words I was born to be your marionette
dress my body like a clown
makeup my face like a vampire
then throw me in your unfair empire.
I’m your puppet and I accept to pay for a crime that I’ve never
done.
’cause of you I breath injustice to survive
and I drink tears to still be alive…
Why are ‘She’s’ the way they have been,
Not only now…but way back when?
To know what she is…and why she’s that way,
We must know from the start on the very first day.
Before the day of her birth…yes, way before that,
An unaware egg got a heck of a whack.
Before she’d be she, someone’s daughter or wife,
That sperm…had determined…the rest of her life.
Genetic codes and chromosome vex
Say She’s whammied! She’s a double X-X
The Chromosome X-X of being a She,
Lost out to the X-Y of being a He.
Customs demand it! We label and scan,
So it’s “she” for a lady…and ‘he’ for a man.
Yes labels are trainings for “Mr.” and “Ms.”
So she is sure… what the heck that she is.
Pronouns pronounce her…a she and a her,
An appropriate marker so she’s always sure.
Familiar pink ribbons…what a cute little Belle,
It’s a she by the color! You always can tell!
When she was a toddler…she was merely a me,
Not knowing the difference… in a he and a she.
It wasn’t enough she was already… a me,
They now had to teach her… she had to be she.
Then come the toys… that are under the tree,
Boys for the boys… and girls for the me.
Why couldn’t they let her…keep being a me?
Instead of insisting what she ought to be.
By the time she’d arrived… much closer to six,
She was well on her way…as a Double X-X.
Sadly she learned… between girls and those boys,
There’s more of a difference… than stupid old toys.
A more genuine force now comes into play,
On her very first sexual… 'recognition' day.
The chromosome X-Y, of being a he,
Can’t match the X-X whammy of being a she.
Genetic code and a thing called sex,
Say there’s krypton in her double X X
Uterus! Vagina! and Ovaries!,
The “Keys” to the Kingdom belong to the SHE’s
Today's true tom tale;
Today was Dr. day at the clinic
I ended up the day quite a cynic
I'd been awake three days,
With a toothache and pain that slays
My jagged teeth cutting up my tongue
And the promise of help to which I clung
For no more of this pain could I endure,
I desperately did seek some kind of cure
Appointment at 2:15- told the taxi 1:30
I knew the fib was a tad dirty...
"Hedge the bet" one might say,
Sad to think one must be that way,
Of course in this case he showed up at 1PM
And I was in the waiting room at 1:15
Fastest response I'd ever seen.
So I sat in the waiting room as
Clerical shifts came and went
My patience seemed nearly spent
At last I was escorted to an examining room,
To sit and ponder my future doom...
For over an hour I sat there,
Reading all the posters on the wall,
About various diseases,
Soon I had them all!
Cervical cancer,
Malignant volvulus,
Infected ovaries,
Fibroid tumors in my uterus,
A glumaceous gluteus,
Obstructed bowels,
Deviated septum
Leukemia,
Anemia, edemia
Enlarged prostate,
Shrunken prostate
Eczema, Lupus
Leprosy.....
All these for me!
I hoped he didn't keep me
waiting too much longer,
Surely I wasn't getting stronger....
I'd be dead in ten more afflictions
If he could not cure all these conditions.
I felt my life force start to fade
Look at what these posters made!
Surely life was slipping away,
I couldn't stand,
I began to sway.
In he finally came,
Suddenly I did not feel
the same,
I might survive the day after all,
My approaching death grew
rather small.
Next time, bring a book,
For in terms of time,
It hardly took,
Much time to catch
All these ills,
Or at least come in,
With made out wills.
#Earth_has_swallowed_blackwoman's_pure_seed_of_life
Hopes and wishes, dreams and expectations, observed as they derail, watched as they grew thorns, losing their shape, changing into pain and nightmares, tormenting and devastating, turning bitter and sour, daily. Like a cancer virus, festering
Watched as a blackwoman, shook her head in disbilief, braking down into tears. Diagnosed with medical conditions, she never had, brought to life in her body, her mind and blood level fuming, cardiac arrest and suicidal thoughts invanssion. Her lil innocent ones, denied the blessing, gift of having to grow with someone to call 'mom'. The curse of blessing gift, of bearing life
Men, introduced health endangering substances, drugs and intoxicating beverages. Genesis to short life span. Inhumanity and canibalism. Fornication, nephews and heirs which were once sacred in a healthy and normal ovaries, now in shortage, scarce. Distinction of blackwoman's pride and honour. This is worse than death, the emotional burden of having to carry dead soul cross with you everywhere, for as long long as you still alive
Nyaope, placing blood chasing thought to what reality is, well homoured, smart, innocent, dark,light, thin, big, small, rich,poor, sons and daughters of blackwoman, walking out of their senses, sanity and purity, held hand by this drug, Quickfix, quick death.
Stress and confusion, complexities of life, trials and tribulations, hunger and desparation, circumstances and denials, faillure and hopeless. not to ignore jealous and witchcraft.
Ooh! Human! Earth has swallowed blackwoman's pure seed of life.
#Poetic_Ink
So young and so in love
in a marriage from above-
Countless surgeries on my
ovaries,
How much can one woman
suffer through?
The allure of having a baby
was always a dream come true,
yet when I was told I was
infertile, I felt less than my true
value.
Twenty-three is too young
to find out a baby is not an
option,
I just couldn’t see in my future
the choice of adoption.
Forgive me for my admittance,
forgive me for my greed,
I knew I deserved remittance,
my hopes far away…Godspeed.
Crabby days came with a tummy
ache indeed,
crying for no reason,
for my body did mislead.
A doctor visit approached
and I was scared I needed
another procedure-
but how many heart aches
can one woman endure?
...I just wasn’t sure-
An ultrasound confirmed
a baby I was to give birth,
right then and there I
knew my life had...
...hope and worth.
A dream come true, but still
felt apprehension to lose this
life,
for it was always my dream to
be a mother as well as a wife.
Thirty-eight weeks later a
baby girl in my arms,
my world changed and I’d
forever protect her from harm.
She just turned eleven yesterday,
as February twelfth two thousand and six
was my life changing day!
Gratitude and appreciation for
my beautiful creation-
oh, what an outstanding situation
that changed my life...
-in the most positive way.
February 13, 2017
The mechanical components, the valve that pumps my heart
The reactive nerve endings that serve a sensory stimulus
The tear ducts that latently only lend lubrication
The silly little practical necessary body bits, pieces and parts
I yawn & it reminds me… I should probably inhale & exhale
I smile because it is simply facial muscles that need exercise
I do mechanical muscle management to strengthen & maximise
Biomechanical body’s like mine don’t simply go frail..
My skin surface is stimulated, & sympathetically constricts.. it must be cold?
My mental function set to maintain a neutral base
My muscles, skeletal system, ligaments, tendons & bony structures
Encapsulated by a mechanised myofascial web, complete the outer mould
Organs operate internally as a well serviced engine, its all systems go
Emotions just pesky little hormone imbalances, from a time long ago
Where we as woman once needed in order to reproduce
Will evolution shrink our ovaries as they have outgrown their use?
My tongue embraces words, my tongue the sharpened sword
I trip stumble & fall and my senses heighten
My pelvic floor constricts & I feel it twitch & tighten
I massage the distressed muscles & release multiple rewards
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine
Not some sensitive, high strung weak inferior copy of a male
It is supple, soft and silky to the touch, all curves & contours
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine……