Long Ovum Poems

Long Ovum Poems. Below are the most popular long Ovum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ovum poems by poem length and keyword.


At the Beyond

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It is here at the point where no life exists
where shadows lurk and life is made
while Creation does nothing but watch itself 
in a hole that never ends

Ether dances and joke at beginnings of dust 
as we bring to life that which longs to smell 
misty dew, try luck and fate on stages of illusion 

Here we eat pomegranates in custard 
apple skin, breathing in salty spice from 
pink peas in tunnels of horns
here throats are channels of finality
columns of joy in hope

Here silence is the loveliest sound
sights contest to bloom on trees of golden chandeliers and flimsy nightgowns after 
dinner mints

At this point of open fluid blueness
sightless serpents mingle with  lights down 
their spines
bracken love is made then broken like 
crockery on a shelf overburdened with fear 

At the beyond orange magic exists in 
hair without roots, round and round
in bones without marrow, mouth to tail 
as God puts together noses and arses
makes granite curves with candy floss fingers

Here man is woman, woman man
goddesses in curls and red sequined 
slippers witness Tarzan at work eating
pineapple with prickles, tongue to tongue

Here a point becomes the only space 
space falls into time, time into circles
numbers into letters, letters into nothingness 
while black Persian cats cavort on blankets 
of faith

At the beyond things jump and don’t move
spring by standing still, guitar notes run 
along in blessed focus, locked in flights 
of danger

Here you fall and fall, scream a soundless scream ~ blond lashes in a teacup filled 
with ovum and sperm, where a flame is 
not a straw to hang on

At the beyond, it is so


Premium Member The Backward Walking Dog

Waking up with bleary eyes
to a chicken ovum as it fries,
I brushed aside ten thousand lies,
my memory to jog - 
a vision of the backward walking dog.

Had my brain been so badly mangled
it could not be disentangled.
Yes!  Before me, the image dangled.
I could see it through a fog
(of pea soup) - the backward walking dog.

Could it be the devil's nature, 
an omen or fate's nomenclature?
The body from a westbound freighter
thrown into a bog -
it was the backward walking dog.  

Perhaps in this rancid rubbage heap,
philosophy or something deep
could make me return to sleep,
knowing, I am but a cog,
and forget the backward walking dog.

A visage or a psychic scourge,
no act of man or God will ever purge,
and there is no truth to yet emerge -
just crawling from that hollow log - 
the backward walking dog.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Source

(“Mind’s Eye”, 2017, original encaustic)

The Source

People say they are searching for the source
As if it is somehow something other than this
Somehow somewhere other than here.

But that is like searching for your own roots
Without acknowledging that you yourself
Are in fact your father’s sperm
And mother’s ovum
United in the flesh.

We live our lives in ignorance
Then in doubt
Then in quest to find what we have lost
Never realizing that it was always too close to see.

Something that isn’t a thing
So pervasive, so common, so mundane 
We completely ignore it, 
Like our breath, like our heartbeat.

And yet without our next breath and beating heart
What else matters.

(7/26/25)
Form: Narrative

Who Am I

I am a woman created in the image of God.
    I was created to walk beside Adam, 
    And never to beneath him.
    God created me special, different from a man.
    He made me who I am.

    I have a uterus that keeps a baby safe. 
    Every month I released my eggs and bleed.
    One special quality a man does not need.
    In my womb life grows,
    After a man’s sperm, penetrated my ovum.
    My babies nestled against my breast, 
    When they needed milk, love, and rest.
 
    I have a  and not a ,
   And it makes me different from Adam.
   My voice does not break during puberty.
   My body releases more estrogen, 
   To help me develop into a woman.
 
     I am a woman different from a man
      God created me who I am.
Form: Rhyme

Attributes of Being Average

(alternately titled one me silly more till manufactured 
from go win addle American 
non refundable private parts) 

each set of twenty three chromosomes 
the basic biological building blocks
of life came out cervix 
when second hand of analog clocks 

barely and scarcely swept across dial,
wrought offspring appearance 
as a pier a docks
closely resembling a monkey 

perhaps...hmm...
maybe mother mated with a chimp 
assimilating chromosomal flox 
genetic combination brought about add hocks 

viz bouncing baby boy skinny and fair game 
as a pluperfect future target for jocks
when I took first gasp of air sputtered 
like an old engine that knocks,

now just easing into ma deuce score 
and xix year with hair reed locks 
twittering, snorting, rattling nonetheless 
became precious human dependent 

with mat chew anti body mox
see for father and mother 
to care despite expelling nox
shuss gas out derriere, which profuse flatulence 

natural immunization 
kept away infected kids with pox
nicknamed little buttock blaster 
now sits in a comfy chair and rocks

reminiscing about boyhood 
and a pooch named Socs
who told time applying faux paws vox
like ­tum make sounds resembling tick tocks

Nowadays every potential mom and dad 
disappointed unless offspring(s) feverish follow fad
decreeing qualified as gifted birth of lass or lad 
go wing great lengths to prod and push 
progeny until a genius to be had
rather tubby thankful and gratefully glad

regaling robust surprise 
packaged traits of yore 
inheriting genetics descended 
when early apes did de tour 

terrestrial virgin earth 
anatomically complete store 
reed awesomely astounding miracle from spore
sized fertilized ovum (healthy 
and sound baby boy or girl) hood roar 

if lionized, which feline bellow mew might mean 
change my dye ya pore
and pamper me sum more
gnome hatter wailing mama or papa ignore
thence nurturing baby pipes por favor
kinship knits omnipotent bond evermore
where tis instinctual to adore.


Dice from Outer Space

Dice in Outer Space 

A dice occupied a part of space o'er three weeks ago,
I saw it reside without rockiness, roll or drift to weigh,
Only debris floating in the hollowed terrific atmosphere,
Could steal that cubic regality of it’s dignity in cruel slay.

But it did not! Or when present, it did not in blissful glee,
For in that sharp moment a splendid skiff fell from above -
I saw the dice in all its semiotics of multifaceted identity,
Embellish yet echo the presumed emptiness of the glove.

Beside me greeted stars, moon, whetted Mars, quasars,
But the giant in sweet surprise moved and claimed a grin;
Its semantics hit in semiotic spread binomially distributed,
All in me found a meaning amid that societal shriek din.

Random but creating the rational: humans, animals, plants,
One roll of the silent, saline dice rained waterfalls in power;
A slight of hand tilted destiny’s child peeking and glimpsing,  
For the swift air to cuddle its sheerly innocent bent tower.

Somatic development bloomed a phenotype in rich display,
Social evolution scooped that prize secured before a trace,
Vocalising tribal calls cut the beholder’s hope to denounce,
Their drive for the female dressed in ovum for sperm case. 

But this family - me, you, cherish still moments of freedom,
When ecstasy rolls the waterfalls of two bodies harmonising,
Into one synchronous whole pounding with the life-pulse bold,
Transforming individuality to join with the mesh globalising.

The die, cradling the social with quickening consistent tie,
Files economic highs for tomorrow’s feed, pleading to know, 
The happiness of the CEO reigning down joyous bonuses, 
Enabling restaurants to serve sumptuous cuisine aglow. 
 
And to medicine wherein the random nests, hiding its kin,
Academia and pharmaceuticals search spare but by step:
Postured algorithms fibre the genetic code, the cell division,
Discovering blazing makeup to aperture the random footstep.
Form: Rhyme

Mom My Beauteous Lucky Charm

Hi guys please  go through my new poem..

  Mom: My Beauteous Lucky Charm 

I came alone in this beautiful world,
And I have to leave this world alone.
Nowhere in this journey of life I wanna lack,
I have to live the life with its full spirit and wanna carry happiness in my sack!

Refreshing the moments when,
Two souls flamed in passion of love.
Merging the sperm and ovum.
Formation of egg, Resulting into a developed embryo,
They Created me!

Irritating my mom right from the start,
Ejecting me out and my mom is in pain.
Getting emotional around,
Both of us burst out in tears.
Sorry Mom I won't hurt you again!

Its the feeling which nobody can damn understand.
Connecting me around herself,
Introducing me with my dad,
Whatsoever I just love my Mom.
She is the one who caressed me,
She is the one who cuddled me.
She is one who actively participated in my activities,
She is the one who holded me happily ever.
She is the one who made me strong enough to tackle the things,
She is one who supported me when I need it.
Encouraged me, My energizer,
Dramatically she is the one who made me laugh when I am sad.
Thanks mom for whatever you, kind-heartedly shower!

When the moon fades, She started my day with a bright sunshine,
She never wanted to leave me alone.
She is one who gifted me my younger brother,
She is the one who taught me to value relationship.
She is one who controlled my patience when l am flaming in aggression,
Feeling glad to be a part of your soul.
Ferociously I flowed in your love,
Thanks Mom, As You bestowed priceless gift of blessings!

Her expectations l just wanna fulfil,
But be yourself, I pray god.
Don't change yourself according to the circumstances,
She is the one who tried to mould herself when the entire family is in sustained pain.
Hugging you, Releasing my thoughts,
Wanted you to be mine , My Sweetest Mom ever.        

By Madhavi
© Maddy Sp  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Jack Kerouac

I used to write like
Jack Kerouac.
Words
crumbling down
paper. 
Stark thoughts
marked
by dots
and dashes.
 
Flashes of schoolyard brilliance
The hill I would
climb over
to be
someone different. 
I never saw life
through a dot.
LSD.
My father
was on mushrooms,
when he and my mother
created me.
 
Psychedelic sperm
meets
bitter weed
infested ovum. 
BANGED
into existence. 

Transient spirit
sloughing off
afterbirth long
after I hit
the cold.
 
I have chased
paper
ever since. 
Dipping my bones
in ink.
To paint a
masterpiece
of you.
 
Broken, homeless, loveless,
privileged, safe, warm,
sheltered, shattered
reconstructed.
 
All in a backdrop
of perfection.
An abundant Earth
housing an
ungrateful patient. 

Most of us,
doctored
unconscious
sedated.
Waiting for
something
to wake us
up.
 
My own words
often
broken and
falling off.
Leaving only
snapshots.
I get ties and
sketches
along the
road.
 
I would bargain
my dreams
for pious acceptance
and my revelations
for wicked
indulgent
self
flagellation. 

I have been
bound to my
vision
of exclusion
behind an
iron fence of
history.
 
Trapped
in pages.
Tapped and
wasted.
 
I used to write
as if I didn't
I would die.

On my knees
shattered
under
that perfect
silent sky. 
Head bowed
shoulders cowed
frail and pasty.
 
Screaming
raging
breaking pages
with my pen. 
Attempting to bring
black and white
to color. 
Now I write,
because
I die.
A thousand times
with you.
 
Its glorious!
 
Over your
unfinished portraits.
Your shortcuts
your detours
your ache
your lust,
and your mindless
wandering. 
Beautiful
and championed.
 
I pray to make
my prose like
a Sistine Chapel
after all,
you deserve
it! 

Only to fall
very far from
grace.
At the
Inadequacy
I have
at coloring
your face.
 
I used to write
like Jack Kerouac,
jotting a shot
of you 
in between
heaven. 

But I figured out
that I would
rather capture
my own
splinter. 

And be satisfied with
a sliver of you, 
than die like him
at forty-seven.

Making Baby

Wanna make a baby?
Here's how it goes....
The ***** enters the vagina.
Then out comes a flow.

Meanwhile from the ovary,
down the fallopian tube.
A tiny egg is swimmimg
and plops into the uterine lube.

After a fierce battle
the fastest sperm wins.
Brakes through the egg's shell.
Then multiplication in ovum begins.

Oxygen and nutrients flow
through the umbilical cord.
From after birth on uterine wall.
Or placenta as it's sometimes called.

A little baby is growing fast.
Nine months to be exact.
The womb then contracts.
These are the facts.

Out pops a baby...
Simple as that!
Form: Verse

Premium Member Flowers Greet Bees

FLOWERS GREET BEES            Pantoum

        Around flowers busy bees are humming
        Flowers hold honey in heart to offer.
        Bees suck, collect honey fleeing and coming.
        Pollen sticking wings and legs may scatter.

         Flowers hold honey in heart to offer
         Honey is stored in bees’ home: honey-comb.
         Pollen sticking wings and legs may scatter.
         Ovulation occurs in flower’s womb.

        Honey is stored in bees’ home: honey-comb.
        Storage supplies food for bees in winter.
       Ovulation occurs in flower’s womb,
       pollen may fall on ovum of flower.  
       
        Storage supplies food for bees in winter.
        Bees suck, collect honey fleeing and coming.
        Pollen may fall on ovum of flower.
        Around flowers busy bees are humming.
Form: Pantoum

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