Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Childbirth

Strong, strong . . . by Molly 
(I intend "fair use," but if you think not, tell me and I'll remove the image.)

"Childbirth changed my perception of my wife. She was now 

the bloodied  special forces soldier who had fought 
and risked everything for our family." 

~Mohsin Hamid

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” 
― Gabriel García Márquez

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 Midweek Motif ~ Childbirth 

We all arrived on earth the same way, I believe. If you are a parent, you probably have poems rhapsodizing about it or turning the pain of it into art.  If you are a doctor or nurse or doula or midwife, you might, too. 

But whether or not you have given birth, 

please look at childbirth 

from a perspective that is new to you. 

Your Challenge:  In a new poem, use childbirth as topic, focus, theme, motif or .....

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The Moment the Two Worlds Meet

By Sharon Olds

That’s the moment I always think of – when the 

slick, whole body comes out of me,

when they pull it out, not pull it but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it, but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it but keep their 

hands under it as it pulses out,

they are the first to touch it,

and it shines, it glistens with the thick liquid on it.

That’s the moment, while it’s sliding, the limbs

compressed close to the body, the arms

bent like a crab’s rosy legs, the

thighs closely packed plums in heavy syrup, the 

legs folded like the white wings of a chicken-

that is the center of life, that moment when the 

juiced bluish sphere of the baby is

sliding between the two worlds,

wet, like sex, it is sex,

it is my life opening back and back

as you’d strip the reed from the bud, not strip it but

watch it thrust so it peels itself and the

flower is there, severely folded, and

then it begins to open and dry

but by then the moment is over,

they wipe off the grease and wrap the child in a blanket and

hand it to you entirely in this world.

Excerpt from  Song of Myself  (1892 version)

Related Poem Content Details

BY WALT WHITMAN

(1) 

I celebrate myself, and sing myself, 

And what I assume you shall assume, 

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. 

I loafe and invite my soul, 

I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. 

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, 

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, 

and their parents the same, 

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, 

Hoping to cease not till death. 

Creeds and schools in abeyance, 

Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, 

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, 

Nature without check with original energy. 

(Read the rest HERE)

Cost of childbirth by country generated using data in the NYTimes article "American Way of Birth, Costliest in the World", By ELISABETH ROSENTHAL | Published: June 30, 2013

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and 

visit others in the spirit of the community—

(Next week Susan’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Bicycles, Tricycles or Unicycles)

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Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Commitment

source

"Commitment is an act, not a word."---Jean- Paul Sartre

""In journalism just one fact that is false prejudices the entire work. In contrast, in fiction one single fact that is true gives legitimacy to the entire work. That's the only difference, and it lies in the commitment of the writer. A novelist can do anything he wants so long as he makes people believe in it."---Gabriel Garcia Marquez

"Blind commitment to a theory is not an intellectual virtue: it is an intellectual crime."---Imre Lakatos

"We cannot be sure of having something to live for unless we are willing to die for it."---Ernesto Che Guevara

                     Midweek Motif ~ Commitment

Commitment is "the state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity etc.". This is the dictionary-definition of commitment.

So it stops us from being selfish, being occupied with only ourselves. Rather it takes us to a broader context of life and motivates at try out things that are worth to be committed for.

It is a process of growth ensuring a life with purpose.

Let's see what you are committed to this week.


Write your poem on Commitment to whatever you wish....Relationship, Work, God, Nature, Excellence, anything.


A few poems to inspire you:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Sonnet XXVVII

by Pablo Neruda


I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between thee shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Friendship IXX

by Khalil Gibran


And a youth says, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay".

                                                         (The rest is here.)



Please share your new poem with Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community.

(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be ~ (Wind Power )