My labor is met with
Shallow breaths
Pushing a figure
Not eager to budge
The push of birth
Long and belabored
In the end I am endeared
To my beloved child
Poems, as if an infant
I’m completely infatuated with
Consumed by, endeared too
Poems are a birthed as well
Protective of my creation I
Rise at once to the occasion
The poem lives on
She to is beloved
-
Author:
Katie B. (
Offline) - Published: March 13th, 2026 07:02
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 49
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Cindy
Offline)
Comments7
Katie I have always thought of poems as an author's child and for this reason it is rude to criticize them unless invited to do so. They are part of the author and birthed through pain in the labor process. This is a lovely write and most heart felt.
Thank you so much Soren, glad it was heart felt.
You are most welcome Betty
Sorry Katie I said Betty don't know why
May you pop out many more!
Yes indeed, thank you.
Katie, this resonates with me… that feeling of bringing a poem into the world and suddenly feeling protective of it. You captured that strange mixture of struggle and affection perfectly. Writing really can feel like that. Beautifully expressed. A most wonderful metaphor my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you so very much Tristan, glad it resonated with you as well!
You are most welcome, Katie! Happy Saturday to you, my friend!
the birth of words, well done
Birth of all things is so wonderful Katie.
Andy
You are indeed write .. muchly enjoyed ink ma'am .. write on .. Neville 😎
A true and honestly beautiful comparison
Thank you so very, very much!!!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.