Those make me cry!

That gave me shivers.....Makes me wanna cry.....I can't imagine ever doing that to josh.....It would tear me apart......I love my baby!!! *sniff*

Thats awful!! I remember my r.E teacher reading one out similer to them.

Omg! That first one hit me sooo bad lil river has coal black hair and big brown eyes! How can ppl be so cruel!!!!!

Aww, theyre soo sad! It makes me so sad to read about abortions!!

<3
gaby

I know! Its horrible!


gaby (bella) I noticed uve been speaking really against abortion lately in anything thats posted about it . . Yet when u thought u were preg u said u were thinkin u were prolly going to get one? .. Kinda confused me.

It is here. I typed this so you would get an email saying there was a reply and you would find your post.

Theyre soo sad! =(

<3
gaby

Poetry is an art form, like music or paintings

the poems posted are beautiful!

I would like to share a little poem with you all now

in a far away place and a different time
i kil led my child, a most heinous crime.

The state didn't come, and I didn't stand trial.
Judge blackmun was calm when he said with a smile,
"kil ling is legal, say we the high court.
But don't call it homicide. Just call it 'abort'"

the judge in my heart would not let the case rest.
I had no defense when once put to the test.
Found guilty I was by my heart's supreme court.
"you homicide ed your baby!" they screamed in retort.

With tears on my cheeks it was too late, I knew
to bring back the life of the child I once slew.
The gavel slammed sown, and it rang in my head,
"you are guilty as charged, and deserve to be dead."

"we now give you torment to pay for your sin,"
was the sentence passed down from my own court within.
"you will never escape. You're branded. Don't hide.
Your just due is death. You should try suicide."

i was beaten in prison by daily attack.
I was paying a debt, so I never fought back.
No hope of escaping, and this I knew well.
I cried out to god from my own self-made hell.

That day I met jesus; he smiled in my face.
He said, "i forgive you. Come walk in my grace."
"lord, I believe you forgive me and yet,
blameless you are. Can you pay for my debt?"

"and, lord, please don't touch me for: I am unclean.
I'm filthy with homicide, a most wretched being."
i poured out my story. He showed no surprise.
I gazed up with awe at the love in his eyes.

He said, "i paid for your crime, yes, was nailed to a tree.
There's no condemnation if you'll trust in me.
I took on your blame, and your curse on my soul
so you may be free without judgement and whole."

i sputtered, "dear lord, where's the justice in this?
I killed my own son, and you offer me bliss?"
tears blurred my vision, yet there in his face
were eyes of compassion, blue oceans of grace.

I thought to myself, "now the past has been buried?
I'm free of the guilt that for years I have carried?"
he said to accept. It's a gift that is free.
This is atonement, not justice for me!

My judge was dismissed, my accusers, and jury.
The truth of his love made them leave in a fury.
He smiled, "walk with me and come learn of my way,"
and grasping his hand I began a new day.

Kari, yeh I know. Its just because everyone wanted me o get an abortion if I were so I started to think maybe theyre right in it being the right choice. But I know now its deff. Not and my mom knows thats how I feel and I dont think she will try to push me to do that if I do become pregnant.

<3
gaby

o those poems are so sad they make me want to cry but yet they are beautiful
why do poeple have to get abortion that is so wrong

I don't want to rain on the emotional propaganda parade...

But fetuses can't do any of the screaming, talking, crying, or anything mentioned in these poems. The one that upsets me the most is the first one, in which the fetus is apparently aborted in month seven!! That is just absolutely illegal, and would never be done unless there was danger to the mother or a severe deformity on the fetus. But at seven months, if the mother was in danger, a very sucessful induce-labor could be produced, and that child would survive.

I don't see any reason for that poem to lie in such a way. I don't care how "beautiful" it is.

I think all of you can take solace in the fact that the fetus is not self aware. It does not know it is being aborted. Even a born baby cannot formulate the words - it does not eve know the words - to say these poems. A fetus also cannot feel the pain that these poems lie and say they feel. A fetus cannot scream, either.

Worms do not feel pain; when you addicentally step on one and see it moving, it is simply a bodily reaction to a different situation; it is not a reaction to pain. Fetuses are not worms and I am no saying they are; however, their nervous system at the time of 90% of abortions is not much more developed than one.

Women who abort are not causing mental, physical, or emotinal pain to the fetus; so take solace in this fact: these fetuses die like a euthanised pet in a sense: completely unaware.

DOn't cry when you see poems like this; at least, don't cry for the fetus. Cry for the woman or man who wrote it; because they are clearly misinformed of what a fetus is, and what it can and cannot do. These authors are decieved, guilted, and broken down inside. feel sorry for them, not the fetus that cannot feel; the fetus that isn't even here anymore.

angels
by Luigi-Bob Drake

heaven is filled with the deformed
creations of god, magnificent freaks,
radient monsters and the holy glow of halos,
the shining, the sublime light of the side-show.
the sleek scales of the reptile woman
glint and glisten in sacred brilliance.
tiny tim looks up at us all and towers
above us. the rubber man
bends to the will of god.
the man who walks on fire and swallows flame
lives eternal in grace, goes unscathed
thru hell. the siamese twin
looks herself in the eyes and knows
herself for herself, unlike the fools
who stand and gawk, who pay their money and take
their places and pass from one stall
to the next and stare
and stare
and imagine they're something different.


Sorry
by Anonymous
“I thought I was going to be born”
I asked God today
And he himmed and he hawed
And he tried to look away

“Yeah, I know I told you that”
He began to say
“You couldn’t stay and be born
Because there was a grave mistake

The woman I chose
To be your mother,
To care for you and love you
Like no other,

Developed health problems
Without warning
And could not be pregnant
Even one more morning

They rushed her to the hospital
Diagnosed her correctly
And removed your presence
That would have proved deathly

She is greatly upset
By losing you
She’s been asking me ‘why’
And says she hates me too

I’m sorry that you couldn’t be born
These things sometimes occur
You couldn’t stay there
You would have killed her.”

A Haiku I came upon:
I was never born
Consider yourself lucky
I would have killed you

And a poem by a .woman who has actually had an abortion:
Fossils
By Delia Easton
Birthdays in November and December
Both boys
A decade apart
Me, both times, beguiled
And empty-headed
Drifting miles above the fertile body

All these years of not knowing
the tilt of your voice,
your soft shell bones
the sunflower stripes of your corneas
Now all negative space

Before you are carved out of me
My mama soothing reads
Student essays about the origins
They hate the apes

Loving him already unformed
Little fishtail
Bighead backbreaker
Chest banging
Distant goateed fifteen year old
With slippery eyes

All these pseudo poets,
The drawing of curtains
You sharp and decisive
Dividing more quickly than I could account
Lovely kaleidoscope

Anything you need
Love,
I’ll give you

Just don’t ask me
To raise you from the poem
Back into the flesh

And another:
I
By Gretchen Rae
__________________________________________ _______
I am a mother in the red tent,
conspiring with the midwife
with herbs and massage
preparing for a nomadic journey.

I am a char woman
husband torn apart by the mills
worn thin with caring for him
no milk for the babies I already have.

I am a slave
yearning towards freedom
unwilling to root the master's seed
I squat on a stick.

I am of the hills
a wanderer
with no geography except love
no place to make a nest.

I am a virgin
or at least I think so
I haven't had my first kiss
but am told I'll have my first child.

I am a worker
stand twelve hours a day on these two feet
to buy medicine and Disneyland
for my congenitally defective good boy
who will not live out the year.

I am a captive
raped repeatedly to ensure my bondage
I have traveled 6000 miles
and no I do not need counsel.

I am a lover who was promised all
until I gave all
and realized all all = nothing.

I am a farmer
the land is my child
I coax life from it
dawn till dusk.
Children would only know me with the owls and the moon.

I am a politician
make laws against what you do
will sit across the table from you again
when this is over
it would ruin my campaign.

I am a mother
three were removed because I hurt them
the next for neglect
the last two when I was sent to prison
I don't think I can handle the loss of another.

I came from far away
do not speak the language
have borne seven children-lost two of them
work long hours for illegal wages.
Ai says the poor don't have children, only small people.

I am led down concrete stairs and dim tunnels
to special gynecology
why don't I feel special.

I am a woman
who woke today to dark fields
and chill wind
after an uneasy sleep.
Who followed the river road
with the rising sun.

And after arriving at the red door
entered to meet tender hearts.

Linda Kendra Maggie Jen Francine Teresa Dana Ann Sarah Gypsy Mel
Juanita Jill Bob Susan Elaina Toni Dee Jana Katie Brandy Jamie Kate

And as I was passed from tender heart to tender heart
shed my fear
shared my grief
laughed my worry
stopped shaking while you held my hand touched my belly
and welcomed my freedom back with me.

And one more:

I couldn’t be born
With a mother 12 years my senior
And a grandfather and father in one
Sharing too much foundation
Too many roots do not make the tree stronger
My mother shared her pain
When I am gone she will slowly heal
Though she will never be whole again

I couldn’t be born
To a mother tricked and deceived
Knowing little of love or life though yearning connection
His broken promises, her broken dreams
A broken life she’s unwilling to bestow
Nowhere to turn
The desperation excruciating
No peace, No truth, No way

I couldn’t be born
With a mother lost
In a haze of powder and pills
Felt the burning need running through her veins to me
Fire and she dreams of color
Though I could not yet see
Crave and crash
She can’t see either

I couldn’t be born
To a mother seeking approval
From bottles rigid and unwilling to bend or move
More permanent than anything she ever knew
It was always there
Breaking things down
Preventing, stopping
Ending

I couldn’t be born
With a mother who made a mistake
One mistake only
To never be paid in full, to always be in default
To give until nothing remained
A life debt
When her life had just begun
The cost too high

I couldn’t be born
To a mother planning to run
His fists flew and landed but never in the gut
How she hoped they would
Save her the money
Save her the trouble
End what he had begun
Run, run, run

I couldn’t be born
With a mother so sick
Her heart weak from life and illness
Needing to be well
If only for one day
Fighting to survive
But it’s too much
Something had to give

I couldn’t be born
To a mother not quite living
Darkness shrouding her eyes and soul until emptiness is all that remained
Pressed down under the comforter
Though no comfort exists
Staring into the void within seeing nothing but black
Helpless herself to stop the dark
Begging for release into something else

I couldn’t be born
With a mother holding so many
Worrying how to fill bellies so empty and mouths always crying
Wanting more for them all
Having nothing more to give
No room for another, no food for another
No future for those already there
All for the sake of one or one for the sake of all

I couldn’t be born
To a mother in pain
Unable to cope with the reality before they were removed
It was too easy to let her hand fly
Once started and she couldn’t stop
Angry gashes and fields of purple and brown
There are no stairs
Excuses are meaningless now

The above is mine. I hate being timed out!

i feel so sorry for those who are unborn and killed.

I feel sorry for the .women who have no other option.

i feel so sorry for the women who think killing is the only option

This is the most beautiful poem of all that I read. Thank you samie for sharing.