Skip to main content

Featured Poem: Letter From An Aborted Child - by Simplicity


LETTER FROM AN ABORTED CHILD

To-be but couldn't-be Mother! 
do you know how it feels
To thrust a hot iron
into the heart of one
that's how much pain I feel
For you didn't just end my life
but also shattered my dreams. 

Is it my Fate to end this way
Or there is no other way I could live
Perhaps I mistakenly got into you
I wanted the best life for us
to fulfil my dreams and I craved 
for a mother who would be my backbone
instead , you detached me from your bone

You whispered that minute
You can't wait to have me removed 
because I bring shame to you 
that a life without me is best
Mother, I found warmth in your womb
I cling to you because I love you
Even though you detest the signs of me

When God gave me the news
that I'm going into the world
I asked Him to reduce your pains
to make me as beautiful as you
and to bring comfort to our lives
You brought me so much aches
though you'll always be my mother

Mama, should I try again
Not fulfilled dream I've got on my neck
My motive isn't to bring pain 
If you don't want me still 
bring me to the world
Place me in a haven and flee 

I will find my way and I'll forgive you

- by Simplicity



Please leave a comment below on the comment box below.
Labels:

Comments

  1. Uche TbossMarch 26, 2018 at 3:08 AM

    So many people don't think of children in the womb as living persons. Thank you for writing something for just that. You have my eternal gratitude.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

shy, a poem

bashful, timid, quiet.  shy If anyone you know has used these terms to describe you, you're probably a bit shy. Everyone feels that way once in a while. Shyness and social anxiety are common, no matter how old you are. There is one myth about social anxiety and social anxiety disorder that I would like to dispel. The myth says that social anxiety is just exaggerated shyness. This myth encourages the idea that anxious people are merely weak-willed pushovers. It is partially because of this myth, I think, that well-intentioned people offer the relevant but insensitive and patronizing advice like, “Don’t worry about it!” , “Just do it” and “Face your fears.”  Thinking on all these, I wrote this poem: shy when a shy person speaks, it's like music from guitar strings. when a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out when a shy person steps out it's like the uncommon visit of gods when a shy person reclines it feels like moon eloped from night when a shy person is 'i
Post a Comment
Read more

Dustbin And Drafts - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 142: DUSTBIN AND DRAFTS He was the night sky, She was a star, Always together, Never one. He wrote what he felt for her of how her twinkles light up his dark. But they never get to her. One more note was added in his drafts. Fragrant pens and beautiful poems Pink papers and artistic handwriting. She wrote about the beauty in his black of how they make her twinkles shine. but they never got to him. Only the dustbin knows how much she loves him - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends.  Thank you!
Post a Comment
Read more

For Leah Shabiru - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 136: FOR LEAH SHABIRU I can't find the words right To describe Leah's plight. I hope this little piece of mine Awakens our voiceless unconcern. Does she feel giddy? Does she still cry? Does she look out the window and heave a sigh? How long shall this gravity Hold her down to these rascals? I know she kicks but in vain I know she whispers prayers to her God Or maybe she now doubts his existence. Does she wish her breathe be gone? But she's just a teenager Who dreamt of leaving her deadbeat town One day she went to chase dreams The next she was never found Sunrise and sunset have come and gone and Leah is still in the devil's lair. You and I, we eat, we sleep She's not our own, we care not a bit Until same fate cross our path Trample our wives And rip our hearts Only then shall we realize in Leah died our very soul. - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends
Post a Comment
Read more