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Pre natal Poetry ?

Trojina

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As homework from the writing group I am in, I was asked to write a poem from my perspective before conception. That is looking at my parents before they have conceived me.

I found this interesting and spent much time yesterday writing my own poem and was amazed how it seemed to open the door to seeing my parents differently. I really did get lost in the process, as if entering other worlds, other perspectives.

Often the act of writing, especially poetry where one is freed of constraints of making literal sense, changes ones perceptions. I've liked reading other member's own poetry here and I thought others might like to try this excersize .

However I can see this topic is very personal, not sure I would write all of mine here, but I thought others might like to try it to see what it brings up for them and maybe post fragments if they feel like it ?

I'll post a few poems of this nature by known poets to show how they did it
 

Trojina

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Here is one by Sharon Olds. Like all poetry it is best read out loud to hear the rythyms



Go Back to May 1937


By Sharon Olds



I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,

I see my father strolling out

under the ochre sandstone arch, the

red tiles glinting like bent

plates of blood behind his head, I

see my mother with a few light books at her hip

standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks,

the wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its

sword-tips aglow in the May air,

they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,

they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are

innocent, they would never hurt anybody.

I want to go up to them and say Stop,

don’t do it—she’s the wrong woman,

he’s the wrong man, you are going to do things

you cannot imagine you would ever do,

you are going to do bad things to children,

you are going to suffer in ways you have not heard of,

you are going to want to die. I want to go

up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,

her hungry pretty face turning to me,

her pitiful beautiful untouched body,

his arrogant handsome face turning to me,

his pitiful beautiful untouched body,

but I don’t do it. I want to live. I

take them up like the male and female

paper dolls and bang them together

at the hips, like chips of flint, as if to

strike sparks from them, I say

Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
 

Trojina

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oh it was also suggested we say what we want to say to them, just before we are conceived.


Here is another poem by Agha Shahid Ali



A Lost Memory of Delhi


I am not born
it is 1948 and the bus turns
onto a road without a name

There on his bicycle
my father
He is younger than I

At Okhla where I get off
I pass my parents
strolling by the Jamuna River

My mother is a recent bride
her sari a blaze of brocade
Silverdust parts her hair

She doesn't see me
The bells of her anklets are distant
like the sound of china from

teashops being lit up with lanterns
and the stars are coming out
ringing with tongues of glass

They go into the house
always faded in photographs
in the family albumn

but lit up now
with the oil lamp
I saw broken in the attic

I want to tell them I am their son
older much older than they are
I knock keep knocking

but for them the night is quiet
this the night of my being
They don't they won't

hear me they won't hear
my knocking drowning out
the tongues of stars


Agha Shahid Ali
 

Trojina

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might anyone post a fragment of their own poem ?



or does anyone know other poems where the poet speaks to their parents before birth
 

Liselle

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What an intriguing idea. That first one is creepy, though. Good, but creepy. Any poem of mine would be full of sunshine and buttercups, thank you very much.
 

pocossin

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Hexagram 31 is the hexagram of this before-conception situation. Visually, the hexagram is a pair embracing. (Sakis agrees.)

☱ affection
☶ fixed

31. Hsien / Influence (Wooing)

Thus the Judgment:

Influence. Success.
Perseverance furthers.
To take a maiden to wife brings good fortune.

This refers to the parents of the subject, not to the subject him/her self. As a consequence of their attraction, the subject is conceived.

when somebody was a (mere) twinkle (or glint) in their father's eye (humorous)
at a time before someone was born All this happened a very long time ago, when you were a mere twinkle in your father's eye.
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/when+was+a+twinkle+in+father's+eye
 

Trojina

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As a consequence of their attraction, the subject is conceived.

That's a matter of opinion or belief. I don't believe I exist because my parents had sex. I believe I already existed, in some form and when I wished to incarnate into this body I went to my parents....attracted by their vibration...or they were 'available', karma..... who knows what ?

But certainly 31 attraction is involved IMO not just between the copulating couple but also the attraction of the incarnate soul wishing to incarnate.

I don't know of course, it is a mystery, but for the sake of the creation of the poem the subject is there and views the parents and speaks to them, and observes them.

I certainly have half a mind they are known to us before birth.
 
B

blue_angel

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Oh goodness... I would like to give this a try, not that I will be any good at it. Do poems have to rhyme? The first one caused rain to fall from my eyes. These things can tell so much about the poet. Thanks for starting this thread Trojan, I think this can be a healing exercise for many.
 

Trojina

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Oh no doesn't need to rhyme. I can't write poems that rhyme and I know nothing of the rhythms or technicalities in poetry but I love the freedom writing poetry gives. You can express feelings and impressions you can't in prose.

I think it's an interesting excersize but it is a very personal thing so maybe no one would want to share....but it's still interesting to do.

Proabably easier to share fragments as the content might be biographical...of the parents that is
 

iams girl

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Oh, I am drawn to this too, Trojan, the bitter and the sweet. Lovely. Thank you. I will work on something too. Don't know how short or long it will take. IG
 
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sooo

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That's a matter of opinion or belief. I don't believe I exist because my parents had sex. I believe I already existed, in some form and when I wished to incarnate into this body I went to my parents....attracted by their vibration...or they were 'available', karma..... who knows what ?

But certainly 31 attraction is involved IMO not just between the copulating couple but also the attraction of the incarnate soul wishing to incarnate.

I don't know of course, it is a mystery, but for the sake of the creation of the poem the subject is there and views the parents and speaks to them, and observes them.

I certainly have half a mind they are known to us before birth.

This is very much as described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead if the wandering soul follows the white light, near the end of the Bardo journey. They describe your first paragraph as being drawn to ones parents as they were copulating, and the soul enters the womb.
 
B

blue_angel

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Well... I'm going to work on some poems in my spare time, I'm really going to take my time though. This brings taking responsibility for our actions to a whole new level. I get a sense that this is very possible, its not the first time I had thought of it. However, being as though it was brought up in this very thread of the poems... a very personal thing for me, when I was young, very young, my mother in her fitful rage blamed me for being born. I remember being in shock as if struck by lightning. She says "you were a mistake! I never wanted to have you! You ruined my life!" And a few other choice words. I remember crying and telling her "no mom its not fault you had me" she said "yes it is! I never wanted you to be born!" Hmmm, who knew she was onto something, perhaps indeed I did choose to be born. Yep, I sense some unfinished healing business about to occur. I'll try my best to keep my rose colored glasses on. Sooo where are those heavy shoes?
 

iams girl

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She: She and her adorable, kind-hearted, captivating look
He: He and his dark, handsome, bright-eyed self
Oh, sweet chemistry

She: I will play my cello songs for you forever, she said
He: My heart will sing forever, he said
Oh, sweet chemistry

He: I will build you a town and place a cathedral in the center just for you, he said
She: Oh, then I will never fear again, she said
Oh, sweet chemistry

He: Let’s live forever in this moment, he said
She: Yes, I will marry you, she said
Oh, sweet chemistry

He: I mate, therefore I am. Will you give me life?
She: Yes, I will undress for you, she said
Oh, sweet chemistry

Young Yin: Oh no, not again, dear God. Why did You make ignorance such bliss?
Young Yin: Sigh,...have it Your way then, “I will go, Lord, where you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.”*...
Oh, sweet chemistry

She: We have a baby, she telegrammed from across the sea
He: Sh**, he said, and tossed the telegram across the room
Oh, sweet chemistry

*http://www.metrolyrics.com/here-i-am-lord-lyrics-james-kilbane.html
 
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iams girl

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Thank you Trojan, rather cathartic really. Such a gift, dear soul, that you come up with such way-out-there threads like this!
 

anemos

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I found this interesting and spent much time yesterday writing my own poem and was amazed how it seemed to open the door to seeing my parents differently. I really did get lost in the process, as if entering other worlds, other perspectives.

Often the act of writing, especially poetry where one is freed of constraints of making literal sense, changes ones perceptions. I've liked reading other member's own poetry here and I thought others might like to try this excersize .


That's a matter of opinion or belief. I don't believe I exist because my parents had sex. I believe I already existed, in some form and when I wished to incarnate into this body I went to my parents....attracted by their vibration...or they were 'available', karma..... who knows what ?

But certainly 31 attraction is involved IMO not just between the copulating couple but also the attraction of the incarnate soul wishing to incarnate.
.

while this opinion is a part of a certain believe/religious, its my opinion that the ideas behind it transcend those borders and as a metaphor becomes more 'universal' , if you like. This is how i see it and experience it.

I'm going to share it with some people with whom we have a project to make our family tree. I believe they will love the idea. I haven't done with my tree but through the other presentations I have seen notions as Karma , re-carnation , liberation in a different way than I have read. I feel I need to return to the original texts to see how those ideas presented because , somehow in the course of time have 'change' a bit.

maybe those ideas are pure nonsense, stories we make to comfort our self , as some posit, yet I have witness is mundane liberation while participating in those Family-tree presentations. somehow the 'debts' become clear, the things you try to fix pop out in an eery way and along with the extremely high emotional charge there is an understanding and liberation.

using art to dive in such landscapes seems to open a door to deeper strata, as Trojan experience. Must be a great feeling, like returning to home.

I'ld love to hear from those wrote the poem , the actual poem or experience they can share. For personal reasons I don't feel ready to write it now, but I believe its something I need to do it when the time is right for me.

Thanks for offering that idea, Trojan and thanks to everyone shares poems or experiences from that writing journey.
 

anemos

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This brings taking responsibility for our actions to a whole new level.

Yes !!!! it does, imho. Heavy and liberating at the same time.maybe in "enlightenment" the light is not only about the clarity but make the heavy lighter ... poetic license here i use but the feelings are close to that word play
 
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sooo

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here again
no old tracks to follow
a child's hand and piper prints
fresh across tidal sand

upon the old
i carve the new
with new eyes
i behold this view

yet something haunting
familiar sea wind smells
beneath far off ocean swells
swim distant memories
 

Trojina

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This is very much as described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead if the wandering soul follows the white light, near the end of the Bardo journey. They describe your first paragraph as being drawn to ones parents as they were copulating, and the soul enters the womb.

Yes my thoughts on it arise from such ancient teachings. I know how much the ideas in the Tibetan Book influenced me though I did not read it all. Michael Newton's 'Journey of Souls' is a great book too working with real live people's recollections. In that book it is said that not only do we choose our parents but also the place of birth is considered for it's impact on us, and our body type, and so on and so on.

Still a mystery but resonates so deeply with me for me it's my truth for now.

Oh and thankyou for our first poem !


maybe those ideas are pure nonsense, stories we make to comfort our self , as some posit, yet I have witness is mundane liberation while participating in those Family-tree presentations. somehow the 'debts' become clear, the things you try to fix pop out in an eery way and along with the extremely high emotional charge there is an understanding and liberation.

For me now it's more than a story I think it's true. But what I will always avoid is to assume I know anything of anyone's karma including my own. Dangerous to judge suffering as the consequence of wrong doing and it surely isn't always. The specific workings of karma I believe are beyond our understanding. I get the concept, we can get the concept but how it works is beyond us I think.



I'ld love to hear from those wrote the poem , the actual poem or experience they can share. For personal reasons I don't feel ready to write it now, but I believe its something I need to do it when the time is right for me

Yes I don't want to get too caught up in theories and beliefs here, it's just good to take it as a basis for understanding via our poetic selves.

I mean you don't need to believe we actually do choose or know our parents before birth in order to write the poem. For many it's a very delicate area....for many it certainly wasn't all 'buttercups and sunshine' as Lisa said. Parents are never perfect and some are truly awful....it amuses me to think that when there are a shortage of wombs for souls wishing to incarnate then they will 'make do' with whatever wombs there are.....whether the host is especially suitable or not.


Of course it's a great answer back if your kids criticize you, you can say "hey but you picked me !'.
(ETA I was just kidding then I read what Blue Angel's mum said and that is awful to use your birth against you like that, what a shame. )


As a small child I recall repeatedly clutching at my mothers skirts asking "where do I come from ?". As I was only maybe 3 years old she would just say "You came out of my tummy". This would infuriate me as she didn't understand what I meant and I'd say "no, I mean where do I really come from !?"
We never got far in these discussions and she maintained that I came from her belly

I may post my poem later on anyway....but I understand if you don't feel able to, it is personal.
 
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Trojina

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Ooops Bruce's was not the first poem somehow I missed iams girl.

Bravo iams girl !
 

Trojina

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Just also reminded of this poem

from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran


On Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children." And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable





I first read that maybe aged 16 and it affected me then in that I felt it as truth.
 

Trojina

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here's mine so far, still playing with it

ahem......






Pre natal Poem
by Trojan



I’m begotten in October time
My favourite time,
Of dark winds and red trees
Old Roses
Rushing the season through from summer.

Softly into the winds of Birth
Mother’s silvery call
Rushed me, Irresistable to her core.
I leaned full in to catch that wish
Netted it, sweet silver meshed it
with my breath.


We casted our ether spells up to skies and down to earth
to get Me invented
Properly,
With blood and bone
All Bounded and Bonded
With Genes and Skin
By Him
Father Man
He’s there. Here he is !
But we cannot trace his face, it’s faint
Can’t allocate him a place
Displaced man
Big war
Family Gone Lost Sad.
Mad Desolation Walking
He can’t see what hunger she’s cradled in calling me
He only knows her lust for child as an

Unquestionable

Undeniable

Fact of Nature

Like War and Separation.
and
Begetting and Feeding Children
It must be done.
Thy will be done.
Good Man



Mystical Man in a cloud of smoke
When we first meet I watch him like an Event
Shaving in the kitchen mirror,
Swallowing whole raw eggs for health
Vanishing each morning to horizons
Unknowable to us
As the slip of horizon he was first seen
Marching on and,
Across to us
Passing through our kitchen world
Of milk and bread and butter
With angers and urgencies, appetites, muscles and grit
Struggles and work and meat all choked down with
40 Red Embassy chain smoked
Don’t break the link in that chain lest the man slip through
The mesh, the net, careful we might see him
For who he is.



He Might Feel.
He might be Real



1959, sharp skinned October
Dark winds and red trees
Old Roses rushing the season through from summer
To summer of
My Birth
July 1960


I am Made

Aha !

She needs a mouth to fill
He has another mouth to fill


Mine !





 

iams girl

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Dangerous to judge suffering as the consequence of wrong doing and it surely isn't always.

Well said.

it amuses me to think that when there are a shortage of wombs for souls wishing to incarnate then they will 'make do' with whatever wombs there are.....whether the host is especially suitable or not.

Love this idea.
 

anemos

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For me now it's more than a story I think it's true. But what I will always avoid is to assume I know anything of anyone's karma including my own. Dangerous to judge suffering as the consequence of wrong doing and it surely isn't always. The specific workings of karma I believe are beyond our understanding. I get the concept, we can get the concept but how it works is beyond us I think.

totally agree with the underlined !!! Maybe we can talk more in another thread another time.
 
S

sooo

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Well... I'm going to work on some poems in my spare time, I'm really going to take my time though. This brings taking responsibility for our actions to a whole new level. I get a sense that this is very possible, its not the first time I had thought of it. However, being as though it was brought up in this very thread of the poems... a very personal thing for me, when I was young, very young, my mother in her fitful rage blamed me for being born. I remember being in shock as if struck by lightning. She says "you were a mistake! I never wanted to have you! You ruined my life!" And a few other choice words. I remember crying and telling her "no mom its not fault you had me" she said "yes it is! I never wanted you to be born!" Hmmm, who knew she was onto something, perhaps indeed I did choose to be born. Yep, I sense some unfinished healing business about to occur. I'll try my best to keep my rose colored glasses on. Sooo where are those heavy shoes?

Ouch, dear Angel. Moms can be so cold,
resenting us that they grow old.

You are a great gift to many,
even if not to her in that bitter moment;
she is not the purpose for which you were born,
you have no reason to mourn.

It's not for no reason your shoes are light,
so go ahead, take to flight.
Buoyancy is from where your words shall come,
not held down nor bound to words nor womb.

Thy kingdom has already come,
if you only let your spirit bloom.
A true poem do you not create;
they happen to you in buoyant state.

:hug:
 

Trojina

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A healing poem for Blue Angel, that's lovely.

Healing poems are important because they are remembered because of the rhythm. They can stay in your head like an affirmation.

Infact they are spells of a kind I think.
 
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Liselle

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Just also reminded of this poem

from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran


On Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children." And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable

Maybe this poem could be of comfort to parents whose children have disappointed them? It seems to say (a) it's not your fault, and (b) it's supposed to turn out like that.
 

Liselle

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...when I was young, very young, my mother in her fitful rage blamed me for being born.

Did things between you ever get any better? (ETA Not that it would make up for this. What a shame how things happen sometimes. *hugs*)
 

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