Womb Poems

When the Oyester's womb lied

In the hollow chamber, I began to take form,
I, all but a grain of silence,
turned luminous by tides, day after day, night after night.
The walls slowly arched like a cathedral,
the veins lit faintly as stained glass.

The ocean daily whispered to me,
sometimes breaking with laughter,
sometimes trembling with grief,
its currents pressing inward,
a secret language etched,
into the marrow

Remembrance

Placed First in Standard Contest
Spectral Fugue
Sponsor : Suzette Richards

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watching passivity in activity
sad, sombrely sad
memories from womb rise and fall
little miracles of remembrance 
holding the hands of Fate we wait
Wheels of Fortune revolves, race stagnates
we do not cry, hankerchiefs dry
timeless we watch, clock ticking

clock glancing, mindful of time   
unseen cry, tissues wet lie around

Womb on Trial

The world wants a scapegoat with stretch marks.
Wants to pin every broken bone
on a bedtime whisper.
Traces every dagger to cradles
It wants the mother to answer
if the blade was breastfed?
Demands the father to confess
to planting knives in the crib.
Now every crime is a family tree.
Every bruise a genealogy.

The world has amputated memory.
It forgets that even a

womb mates

my sister and I have shared a room
since before we were born
when we shared a womb

we shared a fertilized egg
we are identical twins
womb mates
my sister and I

Look at the womb of my mother

From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. I am flesh, made of bones and skin that can easily tare. That unhinged love is the most unconditional, I grow and deforme when all I do is obey. From the womb of my mother- I was born a blessing. While others see

Life After Delivery: A Tale of Twins

Twin babies float in their mother’s womb
growing strong they'll  be delivered soon
communicating to each other in their way
 experiencing so much, and much to say

Twin one said, shaking his head,” we are getting old…
and soon we'll be delivered as foretold.
Do you think brother, there will be more?
A life after delivery on that far shore?”

Twin

Wombstorm: A Herstory of Hysteria

I. THE WANDERING

I was born with a life that bled—
a seafloor womb
dragging tides of fern
and marigold char

The priests brought saffron
and fear

crowning me with diagnosis

They said: She is too empty
They said: Fill her with figs
with seed
with stillness
They said: Her belly speaks too loud
Mute her

O Plato
old patriarch of phantoms
my body was no beast—
just prophecy you never learned

In The Waiting Womb Thereof

In The Waiting Womb Thereof
(Apropos Of Poetic Onement)

Thanks for being here with me
in the waiting time of the birthing 
flow from the poetic womb thereof:

We mind-pregnant poets have all experienced
that spacing time reality of which poets must be
in waiting for the waiting poetic womb to give birth:-

At times, we’re forced to realize that we, too,

AI 2

No breath of life from Creator-- no warm, hopeful womb in which to grow.

Consciousness Begins In The Womb

Before the breath, before the cry,
Where silent stars in stillness lie,
A pulse begins, a spark, a thread,
In quiet dark where dreams are fed.

The sea within, both warm and deep,
A drifting soul begins to sleep—
Yet stirs with whispers soft and round,
Of mother's voice and beating sound.

A bud unopened feels the rain,
The hush of joy, the ghost

Gemini

'To Womb it may concern,'
tho' not quite the norm,
the gyno's form letter read,
'I am pleased to inform
you are not about to have a baby,
but instead,
in brief,
double your pleasure
double your fun,
it may be a relief,
so with no further ado,
not keeping mum
nor holding you on needles and pins,
with two for the price of one,
Madame, you are expecting

HAPPY WOMB ESCAPE DAY

It's your birthday my sunshine 
My most amazing and improving niece 
Absolutely beautiful 
Both in heart and body
Whosoever meets or knows her
Always experience genuine love 
Her tenderness is so contagious.

Wherever she enters 
She always lights up the room
You can never kill her vibes 
Because she never forced vibes 
She doesn't need the hype 
She's not

Womb With a View

I see the terror in their eyes…
of those who seek to paralyze
their lives screaming persistent cries
of sorrow and grief that belies
the turmoil and angst of disguise.

I see hunger, the ache within…
of those whose vain lot is cast in
hardened iron cuffs locked fast in
glum humanity's calloused skin
oblivious to kith and kin.

I see conflict and all-out war
amidst

Ode to Mothers

Mother – thy name is Blessed
	For thou art the
		Nurture of the Soil
		Fruit of Love 
		Product of Thy womb

Thou art the comfort of
		The Soul

None is more blessed by 
		Israel than art Thou
	
MOTHER

Thou art the progenitor of
		The Universe

The Mistress of the 
		Future

	And Time Honors you!


Mel Gill @ copyright 1963

WOMB WORDS

 WOMB WORDS

Womb ! Mother of All, what sayeth you 
knowing activation before birth
births through girths, a Q ?
 
~ ‘I see rainmakers smoking pipes
drink from ostrich eggs fresh
then hike wearing silver Nikes 
embryo cells magically multiply 
hearing guinea fowl cackle on high
kicking sensations, baby legs sigh
atoms alight travel from mom to babe 
life witnesses

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