Short Aborting Poems
Short Aborting Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Aborting by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Aborting by length and keyword.
i love when he is peaceful,
full of play and coureous
his smile touches my heart
and i am happy that i didn't
listen to the dr. about aborting him!
Illuminated.
Aeonian flare.
Pandering to earthborn stares.
Forever there.
Through magic, death and secret fires.
Night guide to the labyrinth.
Chased off by sunrise.
Aborting murky dreams in lunar tide.
HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATION - for contest Image 5.
I beg of you mother do not murder me as I grow in your womb
I sense your desperation but you are sending me to my tomb
Aborting me will destroy your very soul, leaving you with a deep painful gaping hole
The One i Cherish Most
Is the love of my Heart
I love Her without knowing
How i Love Her
She give me joy and merry my Heart
The one I cherish most
Is My love parents Who Brought Me
To this Earth
Without Aborting me
The One I cherish Most
Is the Heart Who Cherish my heart
I love you Loveth Without
Knowing Why
Vividly its coming
Imagine it figured
Conquering its occurring
Maturing as it grows
A pencil is meant to write
An ink is meant to be refilled
A paper is meant to be written on
And words are meant to be read
Slimmer as it boils
Aborting as it leaves the fakeness
Completing as it receives the originality
The race has been ran
(This is a true story)
While a doctor was aborting a baby, he was disturbed when the baby screamed.
It was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever seen.
It was so disturbing that it gave him chills.
A big change would come about because of this ordeal.
It horrified the doctor so much that it brought his career to an end.
After hearing that baby scream, he decided never to perform an abortion again.
Form:
THOSE ETERNAL CLOUDS
Clouds are never dry—
When their water breaks,
It’s the birth of rain:
Godly tears aren’t cotton balls;
They are wet nourishing births:-
Aborting Satan,
Often seeks miscarriages
Of God’s birthing tears—
But after such storming tries,
Bright clouds polka dot the sky:-
Clouds aren’t cotton balls.
They are wet bales of God’s love—
And the pregnant sky:
Try imagining a sky,
That’s not pregnant with God’s clouds:-
it hung there like a noose
around the neck of a people
a road map in red and black
with a series of right turns
this destination unknown to me
a child half of twenty-one
father was seeking
shocked at what he found
scowls from the 1940s
greeted us
a large oak desk
the trio who sat behind it
bald, boots, tattoos
with menace and calm
grabbed hold of our eyes
aborting peripheral vision
a three second eternity
chilled the air
then the middle one chirped
may we help you