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anastasia Apr 29
I was molded by his own hand
sculpted to perfection and eager to please
who else other than my husband
for without Adam, there is no Eve

at least, that was before he slithered into our perfect life
pounding our perfect garden into the ground with his slick feet
conniving and a brute,
he convinced me to take a bite
and share my fruit with man
for what is mine is his
my knowledge is his

I am his

together we ate
snacking and licking our fingers with glee
wiping the secretions of the fruit of mankind
against the tree we tore it from

until our Paradise's pastures declined
the wildflowers overtrodded with weeds
the singing waterfall vanished
only to be replaced by an evil, magmatic spout

and our tree,
our once bountiful, glorious, fruitful tree
decayed from the inside out

Adam's burning glare rotted my fruit and my seeds
until they and I dropped to the burning embers on the ground
like nicks off of a pebble that was thrown too hard
or like hairs from the back of a matted mother cat
that has spent far too many heatless winters hunting
for a different life,
for any life

with no more than a curse from Him,
I became the failed experiment of humanity
tossed into God's own graveyard
left to rot with my stolen seed
All the More Human, for Eve Pandora
by Michael R. Burch

a lullaby for the first human Clone

God provide the soul, and let her sleep
be natural as ours, unplagued by dreams
of being someone else, lost in the deep
wild swells of losing all that "human" means ...

and do not let her come to doubt herself—
that she is as we are, so much alike
in frailty, in the books that line the shelf
that tell us who we are—a rickety ****

against the flood of doubt—that we are more
than cells and chance, that love, perhaps, exists
because of someone else who would endure
such pain because some part of her persists

in us, and calls us blesséd by her bed,
become a saint at last, in whose frail arms
we see ourselves—the gray won out of red,
the ash of blonde—till love is safe from harm

and all that "human" means is that we live
in doubt, and die in doubt, and only love
the more because we only know to strive
against an end we loathe and fear. What of?—

we cannot say, imagining the Night
as some weird darkened structure caving in
to cold enormous pressure. Lacking sight,
we lie unbreathing, thinking breath a sin ...

and that is to be human. You are us—
true mortal, child of doubt, hopeful and curious.

Keywords/Tags: Eve, Pandora, human, clone, humanity, human being, human condition, evolution, birth, death, life and death, soul, soulmate, saint, youth
I S A A C Dec 2021
fighting my demons
rewriting the script, changing the meaning
from a sad sad story to one filled with glory
but it's hard when every day a new thing screams my name
screaming for me to do this and that
I am put into these positions with conditions that
taint a good time, taint a pure mind
told I could find myself in the good guys
but they lied, they always do
Since Adam and Eve, I should have known
humanity is plagued with apathy down to the bone
Rather steal and stack then give a meal, clothes to an exposed back
walking down an abandoned path
Kassan Jahmal Oct 2021
And a rib was pulled from a side,
Soon was molded to be his Lover:
Tiny whispers calling beautiful bride,
Now with my hand so soft and bare,
I tend to land, 'these grounds of heart.'

Lay down my eyes, hoping now to see,
The widest eyes, lookers of everything:
'O, stop looking for perfect fish of the Sea'
Rubbing salt in a wound, that won't heal.

All we are; are two skies far apart,
Longing to be one being and in flesh,
A piece self trading into your heart:
Love was first made, we came second.

Children all of our Adam and Eve,
The seeds of a garden forgotten:
But even as I don't see my paradise,
Darling you'll always be my Eden.
I write of mine inner most
feelings as ye had ventured
in thine ink to me ons before.
Our paradise my father's forestland
there was I my dad's queen of our  Sierra Madre green tree land
Oh! Adam a hero lives in thee.
Thou it seems not too long yee
have stood and looked down
one ancient road on our path
as far as thine eye could see
to where it bent in
the undergrowth.
There mine soul layed long
upon a grieving stump

True love soul redeemer youv
Earth might pass away
but not thine word.
Oh hold me near thine heart
this Eve knowed thee.
and thine beige yarn
on finger, I still always wear.
Mr.And Mrs. Andrews
with Karijinbba.
Ylzm Apr 2021
Surer knowledge by cross examination
of witnesses than belief in imaginations
Will more certainty than mindless chance
Shakespeare was a man rather than monkeys
and Eve than washed up fishes learning to walk
Zach Blackmer Mar 2021
The mother of humanity
Cast aside without a thought.
For what do we owe this calamity?
Man’s wrath is a terrible blot.

I wonder what you were like.
I wonder were you kind?
I wonder did you mean to free the mind?
I wonder could you heal the blind?

Did you dream?
Did you yearn to be free?
Did you want to sail some distant sea?
Did you simply wish to flee?

Can you forgive your children?
Can you absolve our sin?
Can you forget without chagrin?
Can you soothe our burning skin?

Will I win your praise?
Will I make you proud?
Will I meet you in the cloud?
Will I hear your voice aloud?
from o'er eastern hills
a brightly glowing moon's face
rose in late eve skies
As He Slept

As he slept
the old man died,
a baby brother
to take his place.
And as he slept,
the whole world sang,
celebrating in the hope
of a brighter year ahead.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
If you like this poem check out my published work “Musing on the Cricket Game of Life Part 1 1/2” and “An Extravagant Way of Saying Nothing”
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