Short Ovaries Poems

veil shrouds ovaries
perfume entices suitors
thorns extinguish pests...

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Tell me PD, 
how does it feel to be gender free?
And by that I mean 
how does it feel to be someone without any balls, be they gonads or ovaries?...

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If I had a Doberman
I’d never crop her ears
or dock her tail, 
although she’d probably 
loose her ovaries.
Just a silly hound
but she’d still
retain her teeth....

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A reproductive structure in force
Sunflowers as tall as a giant
Pansies and Violas borders the garden
The magnetism of nature with the help of green fingers
Presents a corsage of wonderful blooms....

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The sperm and ovaries reign supreme,
In that "What came first" eggy scene.
Without a cockerel and a hen,
Eggs would not be known to men.
It is true, it may be false
We still have the debate, of course.
What came first, the ovary,
Or the sperm, don't ask me....

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Fat egg    you're a mess!
I can't believe the scramble where you fell
There's slime    dirt    and yellow on your shell
Impossible, I must confess

With all the king's horses
           all the king's men
                and the ovaries of a hen
It seems quite ridiculous
      a job so meticulous...

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There is no reason to feel 
To heal for my hills are filled
With tomorrows and empty sorrows
Of withered and dead flowers that turn to grey like ghost 
As they blow in the wind the shrill soft grim “can we just be ………”
It never ends and what started in poetry ends in poetry
Openly exposing me to a miscarriage in times ovaries...

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O-Outward she seemed fine and healthy
R-Really it was a dagger in the heart to hear!
P-Penetrated through the ovaries was a cancer cyst.
H-Happened that it was the size of a grapefruit before we knew
A-And it had metastasized so that numbered her days.
N-Now both of my parents have passed on, and I at the age of 43 am orphaned....

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FOR EASTER

Humpty Dumpty – From the Chapbook,
A Neighborhood Child. Repost

Humpty Dumpty
You’re a mess!
Fat egg
The moment of your crash a fright!
I’ll never forget 
The lightning flash of yellow and white
Did you fall face ward or back? -
I can’t tell
With yoke plashed over your shell

With all the king’s men
The ovaries of a hen
It’s still quite ridiculous
A job so meticulous...

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One picture appears to be ovaries.

said our rosaries
please protect our ovaries
here and overseas

on sabbatical
that had become tactical
being  radical

investigated
then we had contemplated
interrogated

seemed stimulated
proving prevaricated
so poorly stated

had tolerated
was never educated
eradicated

while an allusion
would have caused much confusion
disturbed by delusion...

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My ovaries ache
I feel the cold
A childless body
While I grow old

As I whither
They will too
So I lay back
And wait on you

Always waiting
As season pass
Change their shape
Reshape our love

Poke and prod
Feed and plump
Turn what’s flat
Into a bump

Seed and prune
Ready to pop
Apples on trees
Groaning to drop

Fruitful pain
Wrapped up inside
My womb, a tomb
For an unborn child...

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Like a cave witch colapsed
or a slave in the trash
breakin his back
to get through...

It's proved; over and over again
that boarders bring morders...
witch hoarders sort through again...

Who am i?
just a studpid guy
with useless time
i'm spiritually bruised inside...


 and trapped.....
Like someone who lost there lif savings in craps...
or a wemon with no ovaries due to crabs..
relax...
we all trapped!...

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Dear Darkness

You are trapped inside of me

And I am sorry.

I do not know how it happened.

.

Were you conceived of break-up?

Bullies?

Bastardization?

Backs bent over rocks?

Or did I eat you in the womb

Helpess,

Lifeless

Whole?

.

Dear Darkness

Please stop scratching at my insides

Tugging at my arteries

Clawing at my ovaries,

I do not know if you want me

To love you

Or let you go,

And I do not know if I am capable of either...

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Not round or square
maybe slightly dented.
They are out of place,
removed during summerís heat.
She sits by her window
looking at the children play;
None are her own.
She daydreams of breast feedings
while she sits near her window.
She memorizes their faces.
Her ovaries are lost.
Somewhere in a jar?
Somewhere in a box?
No cocoon to look forward to,
no womb to caress.
Her ovaries are in a tin,
in a drawer,
in her brain,
tucked away deep in her thoughts....

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