Life Like Holding Hands
DNA digits together, like holding hands
Sealed in the swimming seed
Nothing on this earth can change,
The chain is set formulae decreed
The beaches of life welcome the lone swimmer
Harboured now in the inner realms of the womb,
The rest of the shoal drown en mass
Winning seed swam for the prize,
It's life...priceless.
DNA digits mixing together fertilising, like holding hands
God's computerised path begins in the process of being,
Nurtured by power second to God, Mother's love
Arms and legs fingers and toes grow and grow,
Unseen but that little kick is felt
Months pass on
The time is drawing near,
Mother bears the pain
A cry in the night
It' life... priceless!
It's magic
YOU ARE BORN
poem by Ken e Hall
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Related quotes
The Seed in the Womb- Baby Alive!
There is a dormant life, unseen,
In every seed!
When sowed in soil that’s wet,
Under the bright rays of the sun,
It sprouts into a seedling,
With overt life!
It grows into a sapling-
A miniature plant,
Which grows into a plant or tree,
Laden with flowers, fruits and seeds,
And happy are both,
God and mankind.
Do farmers destroy seeds?
Do they destroy sprouted seeds?
Do they pull off seedlings?
Do they remove saplings?
And all have life,
From Creator!
There is an innate life, unseen
In each zygote!
On nidation in womb,
Under the loving care of God,
It grows, becoming embryo:
With overt life!
Which grows into a fetus-
Miniature human being!
Bubbling with life;
And grows into a human babe,
That should be born,
To grow into an adult (male/ female) ,
Who can now have, children,
Maintaining human race,
And happy are both,
God and mankind!
Should one destroy zygotes?
Should one destroy embryos? (Abortion)
Should one murder the fetus? (Feticide, Abortion))
Should one kill the babe, unborn? (Infanticide)
And all have life,
From Creator!
Life is life- plant or beast!
Life is life- in seed or ovum / sperm!
Life is life- small or big!
Life is life- in utero or ex!
Life is life- unborn or born!
Life is life- child or adult!
Would anyone sane destroy
A growing plant?
Would anyone sane cut down
A little tree?
Does any woman have the right
To abort her child?
Can any man or woman
Murder own child?
‘God gives the ‘seed’ life in the womb,
None dare take this out, except Him.
God makes the seed grow in the womb;
No one dare turn the womb, a tomb!
Abortion is murder, most foul
Of a baby in the womb! ’
‘THOU SHALT NOT KILL- saith the Lord.’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-29-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Seed
Just like a seed in the ground
I have no eyes to see around.
In this dark and wonderful place
I must wait for the light to face.
I am new life and I’m here to grow,
protected from the winds and snow.
In a short time my change has begun,
a milky substance I’ve now become.
My next change is to the blood of man,
and then to flesh as fast as I can.
A structure of bone is also taking place,
with organs, limbs, head and face.
I’m all curled up in my mother’s womb,
I’ve no memories, but I will have soon.
I’m secure and warm, and being fed,
but cannot talk, so nothing is said.
My body is growing and I’m stretching out,
a kick will tell mummy I’m moving about.
I’m getting too big for this confined space,
but it won’t belong before I show my face.
The light of day I’ll soon be pleased to see
and the realities of life will then face me,
but until that time I will listen and grow,
and look forward to when I cry out ‘hello’!
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Seed And The Tree
Who can say for sure as to what came first: the seed or the tree?
If the seed came first where did it come from if not from the tree?
But then if the tree came first where did it come from except from a seed!
So then you'll have to re-ask again that question of the origin of the seed.
An endless circle with no logical conclusion soon appears
until one looks beyond the seed and the tree that it bears.
Although the seed comes from the tree and the tree from the seed
each one grows in the ground of mother Earth which both does feed.
The Earth is the womb of everything living and supports all we know
and then becomes the tomb back into which all forms one day must go.
The underlying essence of all nature is of consciousness-energy-intelligence
that includes and sustains all things despite our ever incessant belligerence.
Has anyone ever heard it said that God is in the form of the world
and so all within it carries a divine spark from which it has swirled.
God is the infinite eternal seed of all existence and can be experienced like this:
usually as an overwhelming love within us and as all power, knowledge and bliss.
So the seed and tree came from the Earth which itself has come from and exists in God
and to enquire where God has come from is useless if we haven't transcended this sod.
The limited mind of man has to merge into that unlimited universal mind of the Creator
only then can we know the original cause or final end of everything and of their Maker.
---------------------
Note:
This should remind one of the other similar paradox being that of 'the chicken and the egg'.
poem by George Krokos
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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Cycle OF Life
When you hold your new born
In your arms for the first time,
You forget how much pain you have borne
And nurtured in your womb to give it life.
As you watch her grow
And cross each milestone,
You are filled with pride and glow
You can’t believe how fast she has grown.
Soon she starts school
And is gone for the morn,
In her car pool.
You wonder how time has flown.
Before you know she is in her teens,
And has dreams and secrets of her own.
She is less often seen
And when home she wants to be alone.
She is moody at times.
When she has her first crush
And seeks your advice,
Hesitantly and flushed.
Then comes a day
She meets her soul mate,
Gets married and goes away.
You watch as the car drives her out of the gate.
Overnight her life under goes change,
She is excited as well as perplexed.
She sends me text messages
Whenever she is stressed.
We have a unique bond.
She is busy with her life
And I look for a life beyond
A mother and a wife.
Whenever we are free,
We arrange to meet and exchange
Over a cup of coffee,
Our views on love and marriage.
This is the cycle of life,
I too left my parents home
I believe there is an after life,
There is never a vacuum
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Joy of Incompleteness
If all our life were one broad glare
Of sunlight, clear, unclouded;
If all our path were smooth and fair,
By no soft gloom enshrouded;
If all life's flowers were fully blown
Without the sweet unfolding,
And happiness were rudely thrown
On hands too weak for holding--
Should we not miss the twilight hours,
The gentle haze and sadness?
Should we not long for storms and showers
To break the constant gladness?
If none were sick and none were sad,
What service could we render?
I think if we were always glad,
We scarcely could be tender.
Did our beloved never need
Our patient ministration,
Earth would grow cold and miss indeed
Its sweetest consolation;
If sorrow never claimed our heart,
And every wish were granted,
Patience would die, and hope depart--
Life would be disenchanted.
And yet in heaven is no more night,
In heaven is no more sorrow!
Such unimagined new delight
Fresh grace from pain will borrow.
As the poor seed that underground
Seeks its true life above it,
Not knowing what will there be found
When sunbeams kiss and love it,
So we in darkness upward grow,
And look and long for heaven,
But cannot picture it below
Till more of light be given.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Don’t Take My Life, My Dear Mother!
Don’t take my life,
My dear mother!
For heaven’s sake,
Please let me live!
Don’t take my life;
Give me a chance;
I’ve life like you;
I want to live.
Don’t take my life;
God’s love made me;
God talks to me,
And calls my name!
Don’t take my life;
The womb’s my home;
God feeds me well
And helps me grow.
Don’t take my life;
I yearn to live,
And see the world
That God has made.
Don’t take my life;
Do charity;
I’ll repay back
Your act of love.
Don’t take my life,
I want some love
From my parents;
So, spare me please!
Don’t take my life;
Do spare my frame;
The clay is baked;
It’s time for birth!
Don’t take my life
God has allowed;
I want to see
His lovely world.
Don’t take my life;
I’ll pay you well,
When I grow big,
And you turn old!
Don’t take my life,
My dear mother;
God will bless you
And too, father!
Don’t take my life,
Dear dad and mum;
Don’t turn the womb
Into my tomb!
Don’t take my life,
For God’s sake please;
My dear parents,
‘LET ME BE BORN! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-9-2009
poem by John Celes
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Lines Of My Hands
are we really meant for each other?
let the lines of our hands grow mouths
let them speak about a reunion of hearts
do i see you once again holding hands
with your shadow? or was it me wrapping
my hands with water? or blinding my eyes
with what fairies use in their flights?
the stars of the zodiac, what are they
really talking about? about us? two lips
fusing a rose? promises grasping for
protocols? the jalousies are like tongues
begging for words, and the floors are
empty arms thirsting for an embrace.
the lines of my hands are ants drawing
a destiny. I look at all these, and where
they must all lead me. One furrows for
death, the other delineates for life.
I cup the water of life, and drink.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Swallowing The Seed
swallowing the seed
fear begins to grow
the seed sprouts inside
his belly and roots begin
to travel inside his prostate
down to his bottom
unto his feet
immobilizing him
the seed begins to have
buds and leaves
and twigs and
huge trunks
his eyes shrink on the barks
his nose all gone
there are no signs of the original man
he swallowed the seed of life
that no one dared.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Dreamed.... (Hands)
i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.
hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!
hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....
whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Out Of Blue Comes Green
(pal waaktaar)
Father
My wings are clipped
See the steps that made me trip
Now Im so lonely
Mother
Times frozen flame
Seem to linger in the rain
Holding me only
Like a river Im flowing
And theres no way of knowing
If Im coming or going
I need something to chain me down
But it dont matter
My eyes have seen...
For better
Out of blue comes green
Mother
I have gone wrong
Work my fingers to the bone
All Ive been doing
Father
Proud that I am
To be born into such hands
Your love so renewing
And I know I can lose it
Part of life you cant choose it
As I touched the horizon
It just felt like Id die soon
Dont matter
My eyes have seen
For better
Out of blue comes green
out of blue comes green
Lauren savoy.
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flower~
THE FLOWER
Have you wondered?
Wondered how I came about..
It was by the seed
The seed that got life!
Seed that is fed day and night
Fed with fertility and water
It took me a while...
A while to start merging
Merging from the womb
The womb of the earth
The womb that covers all
The womb that people step on
Made of dust, soil maybe sand
Merging out to see the light
Fresh air and sun light
Yes, I was first a seed then a plant
A plant that grew with colors
Grew tall and higher
Grew higher trying to reach the sky
I wasn't building a tower
Or try to gain any power
It was just me the flower
The flower that has color
The colors of my superpower
The colors that can be any talent
The colors that illuminate as sun rises
Yes! ! I am the flower
The flower that creates balance of power
The power that exists in life
More specific the balance in nature
Take me well...
Take me as you flower!
And let your eyes empower
Empower what nature offer as ours
The Only Immortal
From a tiny dark seedling a tree begins to grow
Into a huge tree with large branches in fifty years or so
It does not need help from Humankind Nature does best on her own
A tiny seed blown in the wind by Nature is self sown
To kind Mother Earth who feeds us all respect we do not pay
We pollute the air we pollute the seas and every Waterway
But what we do to Mother Earth to our own selves we do
The weather temperatures rising every year by a degree or two
We are like Nature's Seasons to life we come and go
The sharp scythe of the reaper is destined to lay us low
Immortality for Humankind perhaps based on a lie
We must return to Nature since we are born to die
The greats of human history the life from them long gone
But Nature lives forever she just goes on and on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Lord's Harvest of Plenty
What a truly awesome thought indeed,
That throughout your day you live among seed.
Not the seeds that one would find in the ground,
These are not seen, but in the heart they are found.
These seeds are planted by the children of God,
As they simply follow the path The Savior has trod.
Your life as a Christian is not merely good deeds,
As your faithful witness could plant one of these seeds.
Or your life may be busy with a seed you don't know,
And your faithful witness is helping that little seed grow.
Planting and watering, as a Christian, is all we afford,
While all of the growth of that seed comes from the Lord.
After a little growth it is no longer a seed,
But a new vibrant Christian prepared for a deed.
The deed that has been prepared, I'm sure that you know,
Is to plant some new seed and to help water and help grow.
Once they have grown, they are cut with God's sickle of love,
And taken by The Lord to their Father's Home up above.
Whether the numbers are few or they are many,
You can be part of The Lord's Harvest of Plenty.
(Copyright © 08/2002)
A Seed of Love
sitting here
leaned against the couch
finding words
to write down
begging my heart
to feel what i know
what i know is gone
gone without flow
but i found a seed
a seed to plant
behind this couch
in my hand
a seed of love
love, life, compassion
a simple thing
needs so much to grow
a stem
some leaves
with life to show
love needs time
time, work, and action
love needs work
with a life
full of tension
so i say
lets make it work
lets take this seed
and make it perk
perk up with life
life, love, compassion
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
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Daughter of my womb
Daughter of my womb
You've stabbed my heart so bad
You've killed the bearer of your life
Daughter of my womb am dying
My smile is but a frown
I have no idea whom I will crown
As the daughter of your womb
For you've sent them all to the tomb
My wrinkled hands needed a tender one
My closing eye libs needed to see before they are gone
The seed of the seed of my womb are no more
Daughter of my womb, you've killed the daughters of your womb
The medicine man in his robes
Administered the wrong root for a drug
Your womb is empty I have nothing to wait for
Why didn't you tell me of your planned atrocities before?
Daughter of my womb
Daughter of my womb
You've stabbed my heart so bad
You've killed the bearer of your womb
You've sent your seed to the tomb
You've dragged the generation of your womb
Daughter of my womb, you've killed us.
poem by Robert Abok
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Women Who Begin With Letter S
Never published majorly,
But far beneath the sea, while I
Wake up on Tuesday after a holiday,
Holding my breath as a school of
Fish waits at the bus-: stop underfoot from
The lion,
I am surprised that I have arms and
Hands extended,
And a history brief and not well planned,
But sure,
And there are women who oppose my sex,
Who I am supposed to fit into,
Marry, love, support and reproduce into,
To eventually drift away every night
Our togetherness of the coital bed only
Highlighting how different planets we are,
But now I should move my fingers
And swim upward,
For there are bills and car insurance,
And naked speckled swimming in the shadows,
Their legs good enough to compete in
The Olympics,
For, you see, I created them. One of them
I named Lynn, all the others start with the
Letter S, and one day they might see the light
Of day,
So when the general populace wakes up
Sporadically, swimming into mass produced
Consciousness, they might see my women too,
And swim up into the belt of sun where
Green things grow, and notice how the sorority
Of freckled navels indent like flirting come-ons,
Like the bosom of fruit still clinging to its tree.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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For The Wounded Womb
There he is like the ocean
Holding an empty shell
Empty shell filled with
God’s food
That every lovable things on earth would live
a day more to taste.
It’s not the food you eat has love
It’s not love you have is adored
Palate of life
We mix it with pain and pleasure.
Tears, sweat, blood…
all ooze out from the vein of Hard work…
How can things unseen and invisible
Can be so true
Can be so rooted
here I see this beautiful earth
everything merged through these invisible forces
like a blind man see the colours of life
and weave his own colour…
red through green, green through blue
burns the angst for not being able to see…
but creates these are the colours he creates…
and lay before us the senses to feel…
Blooming into every man’s beauty
Farer man sing evening songs
We wait for another morning…
I licked through the plate of food
Gulping down my thirst and hunger
Just like a hungry begging human on street
I lived for the food that comes from some distant land
And an unknown lover make it
And an unknown lover taste it
A fistful of food…
Opens her empty hands
She lives
She learns to live
She learns to eat
The passion of eating through
What I yearn to see one day
Your hands feeding a hungry mother
In the corner of a silenced street.
Cuddling the child of love
Heals a mother’s wounded womb…
Here he is like the ocean…
Holding the empty shell
Empty shell filled with
God’s food…
poem by Lovita J R Morang
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To the Lord on Parenting
You give way for love
to grow in the hearts
of both man and woman.
Thank you, Lord, for being
the source and fountain of love.
You give them a vow
to seal into a covenant
in marriage to seek
to build a home.
Thank you, Lord, for being
the carpenter of our families.
You give the gift of life
in a womb, a seed to nurture,
a life that can withstand
the strong winds of the time.
Thank you, Lord, for being
the sower and the sustainer.
You give us the joy
to parent a life
to be nurtured in love
and to give out love again.
Thank, Lord, for your being a servant
and a true parent of us all.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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I still need a mother
I need a mother who would love me
I need a mother who would take care of me
I need a mother who would understand me
I need a mother for who I am
I need a mother to know me
I need a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would not yell at her son
I need a mother who won't push her son away
I need a mother who would not throw me out of her life
Even though I still need a mother
Everyday I try to be nice
Sometime she don't care about me
What I need is a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would watch me grow
I need a mother who would celebrate my birthday
I need a mother who would miss me
I need a mother to cry on
I need a mother to know that her son loves her
But she won't let me know her
What I need is a mother
Who is no more now.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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