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Prenatal Pangs

Writing of a poem
Oh! How it can be likened
To having a baby!

With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception

It can happen any day
Unanticipated or planned erstwhile
On a star studded night
Or a rain drenched morn
It swims into you as a seed
So tiny… so inconspicuous
Once the pregnancy, confirmed
Comes irritation, nausea
Lethargy and loss of appetite
Your stomach rarely growls for food
Clouds of words hang heavy and low,
Refusing to break into showers
They don’t gush or rush.
Ideas dry up leaving the nib parched
Lines crack n’ break
Depression follows
Discouraged, you feel fatigued

But all the while you begin to realize
That a new life
Independent of you
Has begun growing inside you
Then all the care taken
To foster the young life

You read…
You refer the lexicon
You withdraw from other works
Take rest, relax in solitude

Slowly the foetus moves
The first stirring of life!
With fond fingers, as you pat your belly
Your pen pats the paper
The first line…..
The first faint beating of the heart!
Then words….
Like little harness bells tingling
Fall in line, line after line!

Drawing nourishment from you,
The embryo grows limb by limb
The miniscule of insight
Grown after months of waiting
Into a mature body of illumination!
A stretch of your dreams!
A suffusion of light!

After the labour pains
Of scribbling and scrawling,
Writing and rewriting,
Deleting, adding and editing,
With time stretching and contracting,
A baby, no, a poem is born.

Whether cute or ugly
No mother can dislike it
She marvels at its birth
Wraps it in her warmth
She must have had in mind a name
Or seeks to find a name;
An apt name
Thus a poem with a title is born!
She wonders if her baby would lit a smile,
On others lips too
Or from them would flow,
Words of endearment as from a trickle!

Submitted: Thursday, September 19, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 19, 2013

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Comments about this poem (A Journey to Bethlehem by Valsa George )

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  • Amitava Sur (10/1/2013 9:47:00 PM)

    Lovely elaboration of the essence of motherhood. It seems to me like ascending the mountain with a dream only to reach the peak - no matter whatever the hurdles may be even the death........... nice in deed

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  • Amitava Sur (10/1/2013 9:46:00 PM)

    Lovely elaboration of the essence of motherhood. It seems to me like ascending the mountain with a dream only to reach the peak - no matter whatever the hurdles may be even the death........... nice in deed

  • Patricia Grantham (9/30/2013 8:39:00 AM)

    Very nicely written and imaginative. Your verses flows together with
    much unity. When a poem is mentally conceived it is then planted and
    grows many roots. It is well nurtured with love and patience. A bit of
    pruning is much needed from time to time. There is also some labor (work) pains
    involved in the process. A title (name) specific to its contents is then given.
    Alas! a beautiful poem (maybe) is born. If ugly (smile) it belongs to you, love it
    anyway. A potent and thoughtful write.

  • Danny Draper (9/23/2013 9:04:00 AM)

    The birth of a poem as expressed here certainly shows life given to the process for a poem to be born. Well written.

  • Aswath Raman (9/22/2013 6:57:00 AM)

    Yes ma'am. Every poem is made out of our mind's effort and certainly like our child! Good analogy too!

  • Aftab Alam Khursheed (9/22/2013 2:07:00 AM)

    Use ed with analogy I must say mother of nature to the poet

  • Savita Tyagi (9/21/2013 3:13:00 PM)

    Such a lovely write. Loved the analogy and loved reading this beautiful poem.

  • Anthony Di''anno (9/21/2013 11:07:00 AM)

    I need to be working,
    and to be honest I can't wait to write this,

    But I need to be washing and drying the odd dish,

    And the words they keep coming,

    Heart strings are strumming,

    And I need to be doing my chores soon.

    The log pile's depleted,

    the garden defeated,

    The cat's run away with the last spoon.

    It took it to open a tin.

    It's looking quite thin,

    And the birds are plumply singing outside,

    I'll open the cat slide,

    Then I will write the curse of poet's cat and birds,

    Pop out a few words.

  • Tirupathi Chandrupatla (9/21/2013 7:54:00 AM)

    Birth of a poem is beautifully described in this new born poem. This poem makes every poet into a mother who must go through all the pains. Beautiful poem. Thank you.

  • David Wood (9/21/2013 5:17:00 AM)

    Words are all we have to enlighten and enthuse others. Lovely poem.

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