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

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

Doris' Torment - A Villanelle Of The Rose | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 298: DORIS' TORMENT - A VILLANELLE OF THE ROSE Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose It was just so black and mellow But she could never forget the hose That morning, Doris was shocked by the pose She had to calm herself with a marshmallow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Later, Doris was spooked by a prose She tried to focus on a fellow But she could never forget the hose Alex tried to distract her with a transpose Said it was time to start thinking about a martello Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Doris took action like an expose The rose was like a toxic jello But she could never forget the hose Doris nosedived like a tricky chose Her mind became dangerously yellow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose But she could never forget the hose ------- This is a type of poetry known as Villanelle. ------- #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please leave a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!
6 comments
Read more

Featured Article | Quicken Us, by Paul Albert

QUICKEN US So will not we go back from thee: quicken us, and we will call upon thy name. KJV Then will we not depart from you; revive us (give us life) and we will call upon Your name. Amp -  Psalms 80 vs. 18. Ever watched a movie where your favorite actor was beaten to a pulp? Beaten to the point where standing on both feet becomes a prayer point? But beyond the pain little sparks of adrenaline still moves through His vein, He doesn’t want to give up or rather He is Hell bent to be the last man standing. I am sure you’ve watched such. But wait. Focus on this…  How did that man who has had a beating of His lifetime overcome His greatest fears? Maybe He remembers countless number of people who would become slaves forever to a conquering enemy or how unpredictable their lives would certainly become or definitely the cry of the ones He loves most. Then a spark is ignited, a fire that actually never died starts flowing through his veins again. You can imagine the velocity of adren...
6 comments
Read more

Dear Nun | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 254: DEAR NUN I pray thee, dear nun, a morning psalm don’t be to me. Would rather you sow, deep in my heart, the yearning of your bud, in the wake of twilight. I pray thee, dear nun, in vain doth my want restrain from wrapping us in a hell of heavenly bliss, for though I kiss my Rosary, still it be blasphemy to rise and fall in lust's refrain. The lingering whiff of your first menses nor the beauty wrapped in flowing gown, doth conceal you inert desires, nor veil, with virtues, you [I dread to say nor write], for we’re far beyond those pretenses in which we cage love in pious frown You could hold a smile, it won't millstone your soul and cast thee hence in heart of Sheol. Shed now your sigh, estranged the flowing gown and let your long-lost heart embrace wanton thoughts. For they both appear, to pay sin’s toll, not one word from thence shall condemn your soul So would you make me now sweat beads from your Rosary? Would you let me take to another realm where clouds shall we...
4 comments
Read more