Thread: 19th Dec. 2008

We have a new topic for our poetry challenge

Birth, literal or metaphorical.

Another big one! Thank you Mirror for that choice. We have until after Christmas and New year, Jan. 2nd, so a very seasonal choice also and plenty of time to get busy. See you all here next year to vote, have a good one,
Olly.

Roller ball sensors on silicone gel
Computer screen image, a boy or a girl?
Talks and exercises
Demonstrating devices.
A mat and a mobile, a blanket and crib
Two dozen nappies and one dozen bibs.

Hospital beds with waterproof covers
Stirrups or cushions, one way or another,
Stainless and steel, “I must cut you down”
“Pass me the forceps, I can just see the crown”
Technology was there all the way through
Didn’t prepare me for slime, dark blood and goo
Round a small living morsel that turned into you.

"Mother"

Sally walked in thunder
and an electric charge
raced through her abdomen.
Rain rushed down;
dampened the top half,
over luminous eyes,
a pony tail and shoulders.
Warm water broke;
trickled down skinny legs.

Nature roared overhead
and the baby inside
moaned within.

"Sally, it's time."
A hand rubbed her belly.
Arm and arm with her women;
the support system, they paused
at the hospital doors.
Exchanged looks and grasped
each others' hands.
She walked in storm vibrations
to battle mother nature.

Like a wildcat, Sally clawed
through labor; scratched
fleshy arms
from holding her.

"Raurrww! Raurwww!"
echoed
off white, sterilized walls
and escaped from the frail,
teenage core.
"Don't touch me!
I can do this."

push, push, push
breathe, pause, breathe
push, push, push

"Ooh! Rauwww!"
Exhausted; her young hands
cradled the purple, baby body
to her small, puffed
breast.
Motherly, as nature intended.

A strong boy;
ripped from the womb.

They stormed in with the rain
and tenderly, left during a full
eclipse; a black circle
and a sliver of illuminated white.
Nature birthed carnally.

when he cried beneath the respirator in the incubator you knew damn well why



a crib was bought
and returned
a room was painted
little pond blue
a shower was planned
and abandoned
a mother dead
from cancer
the baby was too young
to breathe

he was kept alive
as long as the
doctors could manage

but it wasnt long enough for me

"Excuse me,
would someone please
catch this child,
one more push
and he'll be on the floor."

The huddle quickly disbanded
and sure hands
grasped my newborn son
as he made his entrance
into a gray world.

"Where are you going?"
inquired my obstetrician
as I swung my legs
off of the table.
"My Daddy's dying,
I gotta go!"
"I think not little bird"
echoed
as liquid sleep
invaded
an unsuspecting vein
and my already exhausted
body succumbed
with my last conscious
thought being
BUT HE'S DYING!

He proceeded to do
exactly that,
while baby and I
fared quite well,
he inhaled his last breath
of disinfected air
in similar sterile surroundings.

His cheek,
cold,
covered with
mortician's makeup,
left my lips numb
as I whispered goodbye
into his unhearing ear.

My newborn son
introduced himself
with a piercing wail.
I collapsed upon
my father's casket
and felt my brother's arms
pry me from the chilled shell
that once housed the soul
of my father,
dubbed Chester by my grandmother,
as his namesake
wailed once more
seeming to bid
a premature adieu,
and my crushed heart
seeped sadness
for my final goodbye
was meant for living ears.

I picked up my newborn son
cradling his sweet smelling head
against my brokenhearted breast,
and whispered
into the warmth of his ear
the first of many stories
about the Grandfather
he would never know.

Birth vs. Death,
I cannot name the victor,
I can only say
I have both lost and gained
on the same day
because of two, forever loved,
who share the same name.

Blue Star Child

Twinkle twinkle
so very far
molecules binding
where you are

Born in hot
celestial bliss
born to light
the dark’s sweet kiss

Twinkle twinkle
blue star child
distant fury
untamed and wild.

A Perfect Day

Sitting on a knee
at the edge of the tide, I see
the white horses beat on blue
and the dragonfly bat its tapestry
against some moment like perfection,
almost clear if it weren't for the sea salt haze.
I'm wearing a pair of shoes
that don't quite fit -
and have done since I was tiny,
but today it matters less. Because
where there was space there is now sand,
a seeping silk of golden light,
like perfection.

At home
I was full of care for glass,
insurgents in the carpet
or waiting in my sandals.
Katy cried from her room
and a lock of hair lay stripped
on the stairs.
Mammy made Daddy angry
and this was all I knew,
until Death raised its flags
in the face of a fateful wind,
and their hands were palmed with silver.

This southern sun
has taken time to burn
but settles now in glory,
clouds barely touch the edges
of the steady flowing day.
Katy swims in deep waters
but always floats to the surface
with deep breaths
and deep smiles,
forgetful,
that this moment was born of will
and a testament to darker times.
And we, babes again,
were born into a history
not quite made yet,
and I'm not sure, on yellow shores,
that we'll ever make it -
not on a perfect day.

Read about this in the poetry thing; couldn't find any notes so I'm not sure if I can post here. Sorry if it's wrong...

And Guess What Else...

It might feel like
the world is bearing down on you;
some giant thumb
about to squish your head
like a cockroach
on a bathroom floor

It might be real to you,
and whilst warm and safe
and dry and fed
and in the bosom of your family,
surrounded by friends
and well-wishers
I'm sure you often feel
like life dealt you
an unfair hand

And guess what else;
I didn't ask to be born either,
instead spat from my mother's cunt
without any negotiation,
but unlike you
I don't aspire to wallow
in self pity

Choice

Chicken, egg
egg, chicken
one came first
but who cares
did someone look down
see what had spat
out from behind that veil
of push and pain
'thats interesting,
wonder what it is?'
'I think I'll call it
omelette.'
chicken, egg
egg, chicken
but if they'd have beaten it
maybe the line would have
stopped right there
as just a savoury memory

Reproduction

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Food fills us with strength
sleep charges us energy
love is the culmination -
the beginning of the end.
The end - the beginning.