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Love Poems About Aborted or Aborted Love Poems
by Duke Beaufort |
Categories: food, humor,

our oral fixation

We’re mostly big and contorted 
From snacks and diets distorted
If you are still thin
You no longer fit in
Small portions our culture's aborted


Author's note: Just got back from the continent.  People are still much leaner there than here.  We need to stop filling ourselves and learn to be a little more satisfied with less.  It is really OK.  Now pass the fries please!  BTW, the central market in Florence is a fantastic display of food love, yet the people there are thin.  How can this be?



by Jesse Jones |
Categories: confusion, imagination, introspection, life, lost love, love, mystery,

Untitled #350 / My love is a miscarried child

My love is a miscarried child,
a faceless evil aborted
before its heart could start beating,
before its eyes could grow in.
Of course I would hide it away!

by Chokri Omri |
Categories: time, me, hope, me,

Aborted Memories

Looking at them carefully
Makes me grow sea sick
but I try to calm my soul
and spirit with songs and hymns
Of Love and Freedom gone.
The cold streets of the city
And the arising fears I see
In the faces of my people 
Cannot but dispel those of mine.
Where are the sweet tales told
Down to us from father to son ?
Where are the woods gathered
To withstand the cold weather
To make it depart for warmth and sun ?
I hope this is enough for division
I hope this is enough for admonition
Looking at them looking at me now
Makes me aimlessly wander and smile
What I continue to keep in my heart
They did forget and they only 
come and go and wonder none.

Chokri Omri

by chris bowen |
Categories: deathme, , cute,

aborted kid as a ghost

in the leaves,come and gone.a babies head sewn on.the leaves turn to grey.blown away with 
dismay.the baby died today and is a ghost.his mother host electricuted him to toast.her 
doctor boast it wont hurt the boy.tomorrow your day will fill with joy.picture me this i love the 
wrist bracelet they gave me when i died.i wear it everyday,with tradition and pride.

by millard lowe |
Categories: allegory, analogy, bereavement, child, eulogy, imagery, sad love,

for another budding child flower


for another budding child flower

alone in the dark uterus
of my bedroom
I lie curled up
in thoughts
and emotions 
of the day:

another budding flower
plucked from the garden street
leaving its red sap
as a jaded memento
to stained innocence
and hoodwinked justice

another aborted life
spiraled away
as echoes of fading outcries 
floated wearily
on reefs of passing time
covering awareness
of another heinous crime
whose guilt
will soon vanish
from human notice

with my cervical poised head
resting on tear soaked pillow
I pray god that not another child flower
be not plucked away tomorrow

by Ashly Raju |
Categories: lost love, sin,

Been Compelled For Valediction

With the sparkle experience
Of the warm abdomen, 
I was napping in the gentle, silky womb.
All forced me to turn 
The nap into the sleep
For ever, 	
Not in the uterus, 
But in the world of 
Aborted infants.
At the movement 
When I was separated from you
I clutched you with
A silent sob.

Oh mother
Why don't you give me
An occasion to receive 
Your cool kisses? 

Oh father
Why don't you allow me 
To know the world 
By sitting in your lap? 

Why don't you permit me
To open my eyes 
At least for once
To see you.

Whether my presence was 
A burden for you-
Dad, mom
Or my life was 
An annoyance for you.

Nevertheless, 
I need not to be 
Severed from you………

by M. L. Kiser |
Categories: death, earth, environment, natural disasters, poems, sorrow, truth,

GAIAS' REGRET

Why do you who
insist that you love me
continue to rape my spirit.

Suffocating it as the wolf censors
the sheep’s last breath

You insist that I be as you dictate
but, you bleed me.

I a pawn; you a player
you manipulate my existence

Lost in the group mind of ignorance
you smother me.

My soul is older than you
Yet, you would sever
my physical existence.

Perhaps I should have aborted you
and kept the others human…perhaps…

by Corey Ross |
Categories: confusion, life,

Taking

Some love the sound of them shots poppin off 
especially when they're the one that's pulling the trigger 
I hate this because in the black community 
it seems like Willie Lynch theory is looking 
more like a script that was written 
Yesterday those shots brought tears to my eyes 
because I'm sick and tired of this plague 
called black on black violence 
and it's looking more like an eternal sickness 
it doesn't bring tears to my eyes because I'm terrified 
For my own life but because we as a people 
have aborted and terminated the seeds we sow 
for a lil bit of doe, accepted a nickname 
high off pride not knowing to society 
You too are just a john doe with an expiration date.

by pipping stars |
Categories: art,

my love ''II''

my love aborted what of this mind contortion mental abortion slide a little closer tell me of your closuer sculpt me another poser pedaling all my words lettering into herds fabricating sound chains unbound through the galaxy shove me into my love ?

by Dawn Gordon |
Categories: health

An Aborted Connection

The man aborted a fetus many months or days ago,
No spirit inside to speak of or to even know,
Constant poems or songs posted to view and see,
It only pushes love away from any possibility.

The aborted fetus was with a lady left for fire,
Should never have happened or had desire,
She is bound to eternity in hell for all she did,
God wanted her out of his life and told him to forbid.

But he carried on and on and would not let this go,
He carried seeds and spread them to grow,
He scared off many a girl for this gross connection,
It was like a constantly seen past dissection.

by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Danger and Darkness Courted

Danger and Darkness Courted

Much danger and darkness courted;
What I could do is have it thwarted;
Never love;
Get rid of,
Or transported away and be aborted.

Jim Horn