Short Afterbirth Poems
Short Afterbirth Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Afterbirth by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Afterbirth by length and keyword.
flying in the air
like fairies ghosts and phantoms ---
tales of autumn
celestial physiques
symbols of sun moon and stars ---
snowy vibrations
fluxy flow of life
birth and afterbirth aligned ---
cotton umbrella?
08 October 2022
Twice around the world he sped
pursuing madness, folly
Unrequited lover he
denied, his desperate volley
Once ignited, passions roused
flames obey no limits
Wildfires scorch the tender earth
unbridled desire's afterbirth
Finally, Wise Men did show,
They lost Bethlehem, you know,
Their queens did wait,
Moronics arrived bit late,
They forgot to deliver the afterbirth,
Now there's no Peace on Earth,
"I don't want any more pets!"
No Mary ever said, but yet,
Peace on Earth would be great
For our human race, anticipate!
Yes, Science Fiction rules,
Predicting our futures,
Viral phobias flooding,
Survival of our immunes,
Building vertical holds sway,
Hi-rise farms beyond,
Atmosphere blown afar,
Surrogate wombs,
Artificial recycling,
Afterbirth of our tribe,
Robotic thought police,
Digital implants, no brains,
Real time, or not,
Are we there yet?
Reborn am I, grieve not.
As comes the dawn reborn.
Through idolatry, dichotomy, solution.
Reborn am I, grieve not.
Through afterbirth adorned,
womb of wonder formed.
Arise, alive, reborn through chaos and confusion.
Arise, alive, to a new and bold conclusion!
A clarity of love and ablution.
Reborn are we through Christ’s absolution.
Lost unto a Gin spin
The blood grows thin
To the beckoning
Of a morning hangover of regret
And reading the tet a tet
Of slurring rambling
The pre-amble
Shall read
Here lies the afterbirth
Of the Man Child Boy
Who writes until the morning
Comes to fetch what is left
Of the night before
Bore the brunt of self loathing
In Emperor's cloaking
Stilts balanced by the fear of falling.
Afterbirth and straw. Inside out.
A mix of skin and string.
Pulled out like the tide,
a mess of purple tubes
and slime-life.
Your eyes as round as earths.
You try to eat the night air
then seek the primary. Milkmouth.
Born under a stone eye.
Special and disjointed.
You are not white enough
to be dry bone,
rather hopeless pearl
as the full moon sags.
All life is precious;
This, the sculptor and carver know.
They see the veins in the stone and the breath in the wood; they free the elemental life, from its bondage.
Chisel and rasp, deliver the life, that no one else sees; birthing is never an easy process.
Not all wombs are, amneo-laden; stone and wood afterbirth, are more easily cleared away; newborn creations emerge to be admired and prized by, all who encounter them.
Vibrating light
Creating sound
Resisting LOVE
When TRUTH is found
Resilient music
Bouncing the rafters
Building sandcastle dreams
In Happily Ever Afters
Mourning the loss
Of passing Earth
Clinging tight
To the afterbirth
Process is unyielding
As breathe comes to life
The cord of uncertainty
Breaks the firing ice
No line in unity
Every work complete
As TRUTH is unveiled
Washing Salvation’s feet
Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-26-2023