A false labor so long
it seems like forever.
Surely ’tis a natal
constipation supreme;
reluctance to emerge,
stubbornly huddling
in their author’s belly
’til no longer able
to resist, they pop out
from the mysterious
cave of the long silence,
across the waiting page.
Now tumbling, gleefully
chortling, head over heels,
welcome my dears at long
last: the birth of a poem.
Submitted to d’Verse, first in The Selected Poems of the Athens Library Poetry Group 2014
Good for your muse to pop out on the page ~ Others never want to leave their cave of silence ~
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Mr. Linky accepted my poem but won’t take my comment for you!
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I can relate to this feeling! Lovely description. 💜
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Sometimes it really is a hard and painful birth!! But always a joy!
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A familiar journey and most enjoyable read!
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Beautifully written ❤
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Thank you!
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I like how it moved on towards the climax at a steady pace, with the pains of labour. Alas – the poem popped out. This made me smile 🙂
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Smiling I am!
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Sometimes the pain of birth is less… maybe the poem leave it’s womb quite willingly.
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I like this view of writing a poem!
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Natal constipation! Bwahaha. I think this is a labor that will feel familiar to all of us. Fun and spot-on, Nan.
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Thanks for spotting it, Victoria!
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This is great! I love the analogy… I missed seeing it the first time around!
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Thanks so much–I need to get back to Thursday at dVerse.
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