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A character
In Hindu Mahabharat
Learnt a great deal
In his mother's womb
Learned and adroit
He came out
I thought it was a myth
I turned out to be a poor blacksmith
Evidence there
Some poets learnt poetry
In mother's womb
When they came out
There was boom boom boom
I look for words, ideas, stimuli
Quotes, poems, stories
Of other people
Try to express
In my own words and style
Things said time and again
Ever since thousand
Years ago
You can't change
The basic concept
Decorate it with
Your own style and words
Adding new dimensions
Hitherto unobserved
I often wonder
Am I in a monkey business?
When I was born
I was dead.
In her womb I was bloodless.
It was Saturday—
and the moon was full.

Summer nights
became a desert
the child in me—
was a gatekeeper.
All that was left,
'til now I was dead.

I grew apart
and my heart has swollen
'tis now I found I was fallen—
oh, my heart bleeds for me
when will I not be forsaken?

It was tingling
the music of a bell;
is my time here short?
The child in me grew apart.
All that was left,
gone by a swift of a wind.

Tomorrow might be
the last breath I breathe
'til now I was dead—
in the hearse I am alive.

By the striking of the moon, gone of me was the child in her womb.
Writing this makes my heart calm for a bit. Writing is such a healing place for all writers. I hope you write one today.
I bend my head along the silver line of tree
As the branches raise to converse with the sky
As the snowdrops raise from deep flavoured womb to pierce the earthly face
For they come of Dragon's song
And he is the heart of fire soiled world
Harp Lord and Selenite God
From his stone dripping tears
Life is burned in a spectre of ultramarine
Ghost like and dreamful
A cool ivory of scarlet eye
Quievering rosebud and peony
Bleak and barren of sorrow
In a flame of exquisite and grotesque
Lyn-Purcell Sep 3

Body of the sea
All life swims about her womb
Don't lash her fury

New day, new haiku!
Still not feeling so great but I want to keep writing. I apologise for the inactivity.
I'm working on some free verses too. I'll let you all know when it's about to drop.
This haiku is for Thalassa, the primordial goddess of the seas.
She gave birth to the Telkhines, the four sea gods. They were also said to be warlocks and blacksmiths as well. Thalia was also the mother of the sea-nymph, Halia. This goddess was said to personify the very Mediterranean Sea and was a figure in Aesop's stories.

Being that her 'body is the sea', this poem is a reference to motherhood as well. For in her womb, various types of life, known and unknown.
And we as human begins defile her body with *******...
So sad...

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Please take care of yoursels and stay safe!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
The daily letting go of a life
resembles waiting for birth,
only with birth
there is a specified length
of time for the arrival.
In dying,
there are no specificities
only vague estimations.  
There can be so many “almosts”
before the event.
There is no welcoming,
only a short or long goodbye.
And it hurts and it is hard.
Yet, as I wait I begin to think
that death is not an enemy.
Perhaps it is a release
from a space grown too small to confine,
like a womb out grown.
Jordan Gee Aug 1
Snakes won't cross a braided rope,
so I take the leads up from around my bed.
I remember her face-
bright and
smiling beside mine
white as if she had just shed a skin
and the dunes grow now over the urchin barrens,
a desert in the sea.
I can peer beneath the 3rd lid
my heart claws at my throat,
allergy tight from the judging shade of
The 3rd lid opens over the Taklamakan,
Tibetan horns sound so old -
ancient vagus nerve endings in my throat but my heart claws them away.
Snakes won't cross a braided rope but
her eyes are green and we lay a
cottonmouth skin across her womb.
All I see are diamonds on the ring fingers.
Extend your hand and pass through wind's light hairs.
Brush against the lump of a cloud and listen how it speaks of absence, its power upon the mind.
It is the revelation to solace you in the womb of water - the freedom of our kind.
Jamie Jun 5
Nine months
Of blissful ignorance

Nine months
Of peace

Nine months
Of rest

Nine months
Of safety

Nine months
Of love

Nine months
Without heartbreak

Nine months
Of growth

Nine months... was all we got

What gave the World the right to rob us of so much?
wandabitch May 29

You are old, born an enigma
Science fiction is your hate
Addiction is your love

You love death
Al you know is ***

My family is nothing
I am nothing

You are synthetic
A mind without a mother
A father is your gap

i asked several women about birth. all strangers. I encountered fear from an old womb, she lashed out at me, and i wrote this.
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