Midwife Poems - Poems about Midwife

Mame Blackwell, small light-skinned woman with harsh gray eyes. That told a grave story of her encounters with death and hardship. The edge of her mien was sharpened by the blade of the wicked and taken grip. And her spirit for life was drained years ago, and her tears have long since dried up. She had a stern manner...

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And her beloved son grew alongside her like clinging vines. During the capitulation of the Old South. The era of a bitter drouth. They lived hopefully from her skills as a midwife. And though some days were gruesome for her they were perfect days. When they were together in their strife. She found joy and paradise in his existence. In their blissful...

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In her heart, she knew the truth. And its nefarious root. In a raging storm of wrath. And, so she took the wrong path. "Mame Blackwell," he said. A shiny Eagle in her hand he laid. "My wife is in need." "I beg that you do heed." "She screams out your name." "And boast of your fame." The baby is twisting her inner" And the light...

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With a deliberated ruse; she washed its tiny face with a soft washcloth. With no resistance, she enfolded the wee infant into a swaddling cloth. In the Autumn equinox, she placed the tiny form in the simple wooden box. She watched them perform their antiquated burial tradition, and then she returned to the loose gray dirt. She then headed...

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A midwife harassing a woman in labour Spread your legs now And to further instruction bow Or I shall phone your man And tell him every rubbish I can. Your two knees facing the ceiling Or with stricter midwives be dealing Armed with their taming cane Sure to once again make you sane. Your favourite lying sex position You’d been making a nightly decision That eventually...

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Spread your legs now And to further instruction bow Or I shall phone your man And tell him every rubbish I can. Your two knees facing the ceiling Or with stricter midwives be dealing Armed with their taming cane Sure to once again make you sane. Your favourite lying sex position You’d been making a nightly decision That eventually got matters to this stage, Opening as...

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Married to Mary for so many years, Before our differences made us shed tears. We took each other to the court for divorce, Now separated and both full of remorse. Six months have now passed full of sorrow, Then I smile, meeting tomorrow. Now Gladys and I have never met, We found each other on the internet. I'm from England, she's from Timbuktu, Not...

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her mother yelled it's time the time i told you would happen eventually so prepare your self with hot water in a pail and a pair of scissors for to cut when the end time which will come but now listen to me i will tell you what you wil do and after a time bells chimed giving the time of birth on such and such a baby when her mother comforted the new and knew that her twelve year old had helped to give birth's gotten new born sister as they all smiled she was...

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My web’s a lonely place to be For no one likes to visit me No one who comes here wants to stay Yet neither will they go away I really can’t imagine why A friend (for life) will pass me by Unless, of course, it’s indiscreet That everyone I meet … I eat...

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Midwife dressed in blue-black entered labor ward terrified of wailing pregnant ladies vanished...

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When visions, elation, dreams and emotions Expand to nearly the point of explosions A skilled hand is needed to bring forth a life That is the job of the Poetry Midwife. I've no degree but this work is my passion Bringing forth poems, turning thought into action With each birth I feel a bit more energized As this Poetry Midwife is legitimized. This...

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The vicar surveyed her wide girth Was scared that in church she’d give birth He raised his eyebrows Then rushed through their vows ... He wasn’t adept at childbirth! Inspired by the poem ‘Decision Needed’ by Maurice Rigoler 13TH April 2016...

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Babies crying in the maternity ward Women; some calling, some thanking God The only place, where pain meets joy When the midwife says, it’s a girl, or it’s a boy The midwife has the most important of jobs There to usher and give care, when the baby pops Persevering the cries of women in distress Delivering babies, amid the emotional bloody mess Life...

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T’was her ninth month and early summer, My wife said she’d heard nothing dumber, After she had spoken, Her water had broken... And me ringing up for a plumber....

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Knuckles deep in a cat. The spongy flesh pulses around my fingers Each time I move inside. Her stomach undulates As if it was alive. Wait-- it is. I am trembling. Her pained meows Offset by the mewlings Heard from within her. The first head pokes out, Slick and red Staining the scratchy towel underneath. Then more, four in all, Pawing clueless about on the reddened fabric. Their eyes still...

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