Short Infertile Poems

barren empty womb
arid infertile desert
desiccated sphere...

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dry desert wasteland
infertile heart stagnating
unrequited love...

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Wind gusts in the desert
         sand  cover on infertile soil
          only poetry sprouts nature...

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The Pact!
True love intact
headstone unravels all,
their land infertile took them both.
Invoked.

© Harry J Horsman  2012...

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I saw a tree like a mushroom blooming
Producing awesome power
An infertile wasteland 

Written by: Brenda V Northeast
March 12, 2012...

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the fountain has run arid
similar to her feelings
infertile until rainfall
stirred concurrently





220620111535...

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There once was a turtle named Myrtle
Stuck in a plastic ring girdle
It altered her mass
Into an hourglass
Leaving her deformed and infertile....

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longing throat
brew of crapulent
blood
thorns on the roses
warm red soil
infertile
you caress
salt of the ocean
dove of peace ascend
in the snow white
sky
golden serpents dance
to the tune of
prurience
opening petals of love...

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A single cell dividing
brings a new life 
to this infertile body.

Hungry and eager, 
it grows quickly,
pushing organs aside
or consuming them.

Knives, radiation, 
and chemical poisons:
Failed abortions.

Cancer claims another woman....

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Stolen and re-rooted here,
We can no longer be as 
Their virgin forest—
Raped and impregnated
By heirs of  their slavery,
And rechained with infertile
Emancipation ejaculations:-

With this climax,
Need I seek to excrete
Anymore aborted reality?
...

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Eternity
is the eager
but infertile
earth that
we plant
our seeds
of love and
heaven and
promise in
with the
knowledge
that they
will never
blossom.





~ 3rd Place ~  in the "One Sentence Metaphor in Free Verse" Poetry Contest, Jesse Rowe, Judge & Sponsor....

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He wanted children but she could have none,
then left her in the lurch, burdened with shame.
They both remarried and she soon had twins…
He was infertile; she was not to blame.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Four-line Light Verse No. 2 Contest
Sponsored by L. Milton Hankins

© 29th August 2021...

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the vanquished were mocked
humiliated
their graves were unmarked
memory erased

that day space was scarred
it wept silently
time too held its breath 
in stench of decay

womb of Mother Earth 
became infertile
Schumann’s resonance
dropped its frequency

the sun dimmed its light
moonlight became grey
birds no longer sang
with doomsday looming...

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A gorge cut deep, the river pain,
recall a life, with some refrain.

Memories lapse to shallow breaths,
burdened by your wrongful death.

Life anew, infertile fields,
for happiness, no crop shall yield.

I miss you so, just everyday,
how life as cast, a tragic play!



In memory of my wife, Avis.
Born this day July 10th 1961
Lost to me, August 28th 2016...

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why is it that i am
            left  f o r s a k e n-
fear has buried me
  in an abandoned forest
of barren trees

            each leaf that
has fallen upon the 
  infertile ground, 
shows how  l o n e l y
            i truly am

a vestige of hope in visceral veins



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12.11.19
-luloo...

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We need to dress the world,
tear off its rags ...
We need to offer light to the gloom
rescue the human mass
who lives in the wintry ...
We need to be the sun
of the somber ...
We need to feed the dreams
of the dead figures in obscurity,
of prisoners in murks and nightmares ...
We need to format hope to
people fallen trees,
people who are infertile
in life......

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vietnam reflections 41

when the Earth is at war
there is no Spring
no plants or children
or other living thing
the soil becomes infertile
drenched in dead and dying blood
nothing good
can come of this
the air hangs heavy
unwashed by the stagnant rains
the living miss the sunlight
which never reaches down
below the racking pains
and we trudge on through the Winter darkness
wishing for Spring again...

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March 11th and Foggy
My Thoughts

Aspirations are never taken,
 But oft deserted,
How many days have been washed out 
Pursuing a dream, 
That went the way of fog at sunrise;
Taunting dreams, 
That often remained, just beyond reach;
Dreams, colorless,
And infertile of substance that became 
Mere clouds of illusion;
Dreams that don’t outlive the passion of day,
Leave only scraps 
Of that God given moment;

Tom 
...

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The soil, moist yet infertile - baron.
As the click of the season is heard,
The seed of forgiveness lays,
Unperturbed.

Glorious rays of golden magnitude,
Against the sky's vast charcoal sphere, 
The terror was imagined,
Nothing but fear.

Furious, flowing breath,
Enters the seed, exasperating life.
The hatred vanishes, removed,
As is the knife.

The sees blossoms,
In new growth,
Maturity and courage surrounds the seed,
Forgiveness is felt, by both....

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Apocryphal embellishments of

a non-canonical secret society,

teeming amidst a dubious 

enterprising authenticity, 

exposure's excessed stormy decay of 

  tormented poet's crushing blows,

ego's wild oats fruitlessly sown

rampaged rush to save their own flesh,

poesy's wildflower blooms wilted

under acid rein's torridity of seduction,

hence poetry's infertile demise unto 

dusty shelves' apathetic surrender...

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COPLA VEINTIUNO :  This Bad Guy World

Bad Guys seek safety in numbers
At heart most dependent cowards
Fear not their fangs

To stalk you they’ll don false fauve furs
Drop not standing alone your guards
Stress not their wrongs

They love to make a show of strength
Myths push roots in infertile minds
Blades in bowels

Choose not battles which drag at length
He who gorges blood his life binds
Drowns in revels

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014...

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Where is my muse am feeling dire
It's wonderful how she does inspire
Nowhere to be found am left alone
Hit brick wall with mighty groan.

Need to search all forest trails
Magical atmosphere deeply inhale
Where inspiration can be found
Infertile pen becomes unbound.

Muse is found feel so much better
Realms of paper written with pleasure
Scribbled all night and most of day
Anxiety is gone it's quite passé



Pixabay image byDarkMoon_Art...

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The flying hills and its tinted gold
Its pyramids and the blinking moulds
Beautiful the night, a city behold
New dawn it was at Bur Dubai

The city that never boasts of mountain
Infertile the land unfriendly the grains
Until comes a dreamer called Maktoum
Muhammed, the son to raise the tune
 
At the sea end stands nations inertia
In father’s desires, Maktoum built to sky
Descendants of warriors, to sea he claimed
To build the Palms, the earth, for world to hail...

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