Long Pregnancy Poems
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SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA
Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night
They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange
They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew
Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys
O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world
Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday
Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath
Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy
Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own
(FM CONCEPTUAL)
Prologue:
For whoever think story telling is that easy,
Would properly from this hilarious incident,
scene or whatever you might call it, would know is not.
*****************
Just some couple of months ago, I was invited
by a friend who knows me too well, back then in
school as a funny guy and story teller and so he taught this
night, that his grand pa (who is a famous story teller
of his village) had fall sick, I would be in a better position
to cover up for his father's so called responsibility
to his people. "For he (my friend's father, Williams) is a good story teller.
But what about me who has never faced
the ample crowd with my 'cripple' tale unless sharing it with friends?" I mumbled.
In the middle of this enigma, my friend, John called me to the hot seat
to tell my tale to the unbearable crowd of adolescence.
"God why am I here this day... But it shouldn't have been this day" I retorted.
The barbarian noise from the seats infront of me showed that truly I was
in the middle of something and not lost...
"Uncle tell us a story!... Brother tell us a story!" the crowd shouted.
This day, I needed a free moment but they couldn't let me be.
"Once upon a time" they heard me said and they all resited.
" I am sorry, I am sorry let me restart it all over again".
Now in old man's voice, I told my tale before them:
"Once upon a time,
In our mothers' womb, when she
Ate, we ate. Goodnight!"
They all cannot but burst to laughter while I stood and walked to the room with my
shame.
*****************
Anything after good night means nothing more till the next day.
Maybe I escaped the night by dissatisfying the emotions of those children,
in that scene, what about my friend?
"Have I not brought shame to John's family? Did I do the
right thing that full moon night?". My heart beats!
*****************
Epilogue:
Not even do the audience remember or care to ask me: (In kid's voice)
"What if my mother do not eat while in my pregnancy, what will happen to her?" or
probably care to tell me: (Back to old man's voice) "What lesson they have derived from
the tale before their departure... Oh! No sorry, my bashful departure from their sight."
Note: The tale: "Once upon....Goodnight!" is a Haiku form of poetry.
Its a long night, i had to work the late shift.
Calm and boring like any other nite.
You came in from your own work.
Bought a ticket and stepped aside.
Every night you do the same
Looking at me with that shy gaze
Suddenly u gave a smirk
I knew right then you weren't a jerk
Now I expected you every nite
Comming to see me
Making my nite very brite.
And you did every nite
Its busy then usual
Its the weeked so its usual
Here you come right on time
Buying your ticket and stepping aside
While u waited aside
rushing the customers out i tried
Finally u show up infront of me
Giving u my phone and address is what came from me
I couldn't waite
I had to call
When I did
U didn't answer at all
Your brother did
You were asleep
Poor thing
Hope u were thinking of me
One month later
We've been dating quite a bit
I fell for u hard
Nothing seemed amissed
Two months later
Something felt odd
Had to get checked out
I was pregnant oh my god
But you did right
Like a man I expected you too
you got on one knee
and asked me to marry you
Nine months of pregnancy
Here you still are
Trying to hold back tears
Oh you are definantly a dear
Here comes our pressious baby
Here it comes
You cry for joy
For now we have a little boy
He looks like u
but has my smile
He is so precious
our grinns turn to smiles
We get our own place
To raise our own
To be a family
In our own home
Everything was fine and happy
I was in lover's bliss
I felt it in our kiss
But then it ended just as quick
It ended quick
Oh god i was so blind
Something i must've missed
When along came that first hit
Your smile hardly shows
Your anger begins to grow
Im getting scared even more
The love you had is never more
Your anger turns to hate
Your hate turns to hits
Im so damn scared
Im not liking this one bit
I feard for our son
The one I thought you loved
Oh you still love him
But no longer love me
Im black and blue
Cause all the hitting
And strangling from you
I knew what i had to do
I had to go
I had to leave
The love is no more
I had to go on my own
I thought I knew you
I thought I did
I thought I found love
I almost thanked the heavens above
You're true colors showed
Now you live on your own
My heart is hurt
Cause all this time you were a jerk
WHY MEN ARE SEEN TO BE THE SAME EVIL.
By nature, boys are born with the pride of being the very first of creation. This pride grows as the boy matures into a man. Others use it wisely, whereas to others, its a means of enforcing superiority over the female sex. This, in the very least, is why men are perceived to be the same, evil.
Most often than not, you hear a girl say, ''all men are the same'', ''boys will always be boys'', ''men are dogs'', men are brutal hormonal beings, the list is endless. A select few are kind, gentle, noble, faithful, honest and respectful. The majority have dented the identity and image of the male sex.
You see, unless you are looking at the mosi-o-tunya, that is, the smoke that thunders, there really is no smoke without fire. A story is told of a husband that beats the wife and abuses his own daughter. That teacher who calls a pupil to his house to collect homework, he locks her in, plays loud music and pounces on her, robbing her of her innocence. She screams but the music is too loud. She leaves his house robbed of all dignity, esteem and self worth. Its a trauma she'll have to live with all her life.
Little by little, it eats her up. She becomes an introvert, keeping things to herself. She cant easily trust because she is scared. She does not know who might hurt her. A guy genuinely loves her but She fears love because she assumes he's after sex. She refuses. Another tries, and another until she decides to give it a try. Unfortunately, it's a player this time. He promises her love, trust and care. She feels loved and she gives her heart. She gives her body and he leaves her heart ripped wide open. Now all unspoken, unsaid, unexpressed feelings bottled up inside her erupt. She cries but she's all alone.
A father leaves his wife and kids for another woman. A boy deserts his girlfriend after refusing to abort his pregnancy. He says his not the father. A step father calls her names and beats her. She's called ugly, she's called fat.
She grows in fear, feeling helpless and vulnerable. She feels she's not as important as her brother. She has hidden past hurts and pains inside her.
She wonders. And i ask the question, WHERE ARE YOU MEN OF COURAGE, LOVE, RESPECT, CARE AND HONOUR? She week's and yearns. Does anybody hear her?
Onemind
Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!
(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).
Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,
exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,
radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while
appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,
privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,
die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth
(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed
amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.
There was man named Garrison,
and he lived the good life,
flush with that big trust-fund money,
he hungered for the night,
for booze and bodies tight,
the finest clubs were his domain,
his bar tabs were truly insane,
his one-night stands were numerous,
the affairs always light.
He was technically a lawyer
in his father’s old firm,
was kept on mostly for his name,
got more money to burn,
deserved not what he ‘earned,’
his condo was a bachelor pad,
wis many friends thought it was rad,
the women came and women went,
an ever-constant churn.
But Garry saw no problem here,
he was ‘living the dream,’
ladies and drugs, mountains of cash,
the dreams of quiet teens,
a hit in every scene…
but his father just sighed and said,
“Keep it up and you’ll end up dead.”
Still Garry saw no issue with
enjoying his own green.
Though as he went through his twenties
he noticed a strange thing,
every time he lived it on up,
less pleasure did it bring,
less fun in every fling,
it was fun but not as intense,
at fist this did not make much sense,
he’d always so enjoyed this life,
now it wasn’t working…
And worse still was the growing pain
that he’d feel the next day,
sometimes it made him stop to ask
if he wanted to play,
Or at home should he stay?
He had achieved what most men want,
a wild life that he could flaunt,
so then why, when being honest,
did he no longer crave?
And then one day at twenty-eight
his friends wanted to drink,
the thought of it made his bones hurt,
so away he did slink,
depressed, needing to think...
looked at his life, what did he see?
Pregnancy scares and STDs,
and a handful of nights he’d slept
off his drunk in the clink.
Nothing to show for all his fun,
nothing that could impress,
the world did not care that he had
dropped many a tight dress,
everything seemed a mess,
and worst of all, he’d no savings,
he’d always blown through everything,
while his brother had made partner,
Garry himself felt less.
He would soon drift far from his friends,
far from the debauchery,
felt like a stranger in his own life,
some sort of refugee,
his path he could not see…
What was life now? He couldn’t say,
what once was clear now seemed so gray,
he wondered if this was adulthood,
searching for what to be…
Speaker, speaker I'm listening...
You’re doing the right thing!
Unswayed from Kremlin propaganda
Isn’t how our country should swing
Faith changed; policies rearranged
Soul-searching, amazing grace you’ve seen the light
Unveilings of the autocrat,
Eluded the venomous snake bite
Boldly repelled the takeover of the Muscovite
Three foreign aid bills, thanks to you and Democrats!
Aid to Orient’s Formosa!
Aid to Eastern Europe!
Aid to Middle East!
Unwavering commitments
A revelation at the least
God’s saintly ears?
Send hope to the starving children of war and genocide
Listen to their screams and let them feast
They need YOU! by their side
Foreign war package they say does nothing for America,
Yet …it bolsters our reputation and saves our souls!
Keeps our sons and daughters home, out of harms way
Speaker, speaker Oyez! Oyez!
Now women need your help with rights of the Miranda
…---...SOS …---...
This will unfold, as I shall explain,
Again and again, more propaganda
There is a time for trifle idling,
there’s always time to dilly dally
With hard won rights now unbridling
But as for now, for our rights we rally
Crucial help for those will finally arrive
Good folks, unlike the Copperheads of yesteryear,
Or the Doughfaces, who let it happen, no ego here just strive
Women don’t live in fear!
Speaker, speaker I’m listening...
First and fourth amendment, 1864
Gone now, it isn’t anymore
Criminalizing women
Criminalize their travel
Pull over and pee on the strip!
Cops shall ask you for a pregnancy test
Ill fated, before you even begin your trip
Soon you’ll be stopped from your life’s zest
God’s saintly ears?
Send hope to the starving children of war and genocide
And for women’s automony
A unsettling Ad just viewed
Young women pulled over
Not an exaggeration
Speaker, speaker, I’m listening…
Your own want you gone,
Because to the other side you compromise and fawn,
All is music in God’s saintly ears?
You did good as statesmen should, risking all
I quote you now when you say,
“Let the chips fall where they may”
Chop Chop Chop
Differences in swings
Chop Chop Chop
Change up the tempo
Chop Chop Chop Chop
Ill make a difference in them
Chop Chop Chop
If I trim a couple of edges itll be perfect
Chop chop chop
They’ve been my friend forever
Chop chop chop
Well I’ll go out with them once it’ll be fun
Chop Chop Chop
Why does this feel so good
Chop Chop Chop
Just one more hit, it’s just to relate to them
Chop Chop Chop
Im only trying to help, I’m just doing God’s work
Chop chop chop
What has happened to me?
Chop Chop
Why do I feel so dull?
Chop
Why do I hurt?
Chop
Stops
Your axe is dull
Nulled by the continuous swings at your joy
Your peace
Sweet release from small victories of
“I have no one else”
“You mean so much to me”
It’s all a plea to search for something that they long for
Because of comfort?
Because of formalities?
The struggles that we face
Are a result of the people we embrace.
So you replace His grace with their embrace
And by doing so you lose traction of your place trying to affect them
But in turn falling to the misery and infecting yourself with change
To disarrange your being,
your personality
It’s the analogy of “Iron sharpeneth iron”
But now the iron is dull,
The Damascus has lost its edge
Because of supplemental wetrock
When we chop into the wood of people
And we chop and chop to find worth
but in the end, they’re the ones that get hurt
by dulling yourself and damaging them
condemning the Idea of ever being loved again
So then you try and make it work,
And result in settling for less
So you digress the values of manhood
and add the boys who only get with girls to hide their insecurities.
Minus the beauty stolen from girls who add make up to make up, of who that guy wants them to be,
that double negative alone, equals a positive pregnancy.
And so she carries the baby along because that boy was reduced to a coward.
So his whole life ended up being devoured, now she can’t sleep at night because she cries for hours,
don’t you see this equation is missing a higher power.
And so I plea with desperation in my words,
To be able accept that people change for better or for worse
But to know the difference can cost you your worth.
(A Marriage of Poems)
A single glance is an expression enough
with eyes dotted with its punctual punctuation.
A sigh deep enough in loves' trough
that a trance can turn it blue,
if only a beloved statuesque-
emotion carved cold and true.
Coupled in that in, that love is
in,
ward to toast the cold of emptiness.
To thwart a lonely abyss,
by injection-fjord, Nile, Oasis.
A place inside, hides in love
a place we'd share,
if life breaks in shard
antithesis baring teeth-
that puzzle the lost end-pieces.
So do we be it, as love as it does.
I know the first way,- is honey to my lips;.
My lover has no answer that is removed of this.
No-answer can have any relevance,
be cause we revel unto it's mysterious madness,
roil in the mud of it's effervescence.
There a love is an adventures trove.
One which I must for now only mentally tear,
among Avalon's Mists.
But if no longer the future,
where do I, we go from here?
Has this way known as far;
It has its
sounding board-Shofar in Scale
of Angelic Harpsichord
soothing sorts upon a forlorn Star..
So tell me of more !,
and can I have
its keepsake recollection ?
of my dreams refection,
reflect, deflect, defect for now,
for twice at once my Spirit be.
So that I have a link to my Avalon Witch.
know I`'ll have a new name
in this dark world sea,
till what your soul feels to me.
Is a buoy to a squall,
cool shade on an arid beach.
Your covering, covers everything, but what The Lord
doth to us both bring-in His Mystery,
Magesty.
O Blanketed Mirth,
your security-warns of Spring,
on a coldest winter day you feeds me
by magical Autumnal Whirlwind of otherworld
in Cacophony.
Rebirthed, rich and smokey, stirring,
brewing alchemy.
Astral and Earthy, beginning of a journey.
A canopy at our feet
Light shines on leaves of rose petal
on a cobblestone street.
To give, love -and hope at tease in play.
O but know when a night?is as stark
as this as dark as this.
Then love, you
have your purpose s way.
For in you, my mind can only live the dreams of day.
Expecting your expectant pregnancy.
Deal to me your Trefoil, Diamond of Heart in Spades.
Dig me out of Worldly grave.
Deliver me from solitary singularity.
Do you remember that young guy called Sandy, the lad who was always predicting the future? Joe said he died a couple of days ago. The guys were joking, he didn’t predict that.
The guys would be wrong then.
What do you mean?
I met Sandy a couple of months ago when I was visiting Mum.
The guys did mention he spent a lot of time up at the graveyard, but I don’t quite get what you mean, did he say something to you?
Yes, he told me a lot of things.
Did he, Casey, what sort of things?
Things, like you had an affair when you found out I couldn't have children.
I was hoping you would never find that out, I regretted it.
I know you did, Sandy told me that too.
Was that why he was talking to you?
No, he stopped to congratulate me on my pregnancy.
Oh god, Casey, that must have been awful.
It was a bit weird, but even weirder when he told me about the procedure the doctors would do whilst the baby was still in my womb.
God, that must have freaked you out, no wonder they said he was nuts.
He also told me that Mum did leave me money, it was in shares, and I’ve not to sell them till next year. The company is being taken over, and the shares will double in price.
You don’t believe all that nonsense, do you?
I didn’t till two days ago, the day he told me he would die.
What, so he killed himself then?
No, he had an underlying health problem the doctors told him didn’t exist. I spoke to his mum yesterday, and she confirmed it.
Jesus, that is tough.
It is tough, but you haven’t asked me the question yet.
I want to ask you the question, I just don’t know if I have the right to.
When I heard Sandy had died, I went out and bought a pregnancy test.
Did you do the test?
I did.
God, you know I’m not good at this, Casey, give me a hint.
You should paint the spare room pink.
What, we’re having a baby. Hold on, we’re having a girl, does the pregnancy test tell you that too?
No dopey.
Okay, I bow to the superior being. Did Sandy say what we should do next?
Well, I’m going to the doctor in the afternoon, would you like to come with me?
You’re damn tooting I’m coming, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m also thinking, maybe.
That would be a nice gesture.
I haven’t said anything, Casey.
Sandy would be a lovely name for our little girl.