A poem on womanhood, periods and the birth control pill.

My uterus is currently suffering from a voluminous disjunction that even makes my eyes hurt. Standing up and even sitting down is difficult – hence my lousy posture trying to blog whilst half-lying down. So, I thought of writing a poem about it – as any normal person would. Enjoy!

Period Pondering

Good blood, healthy blood.
Blood that’s part of me.
Blood that’s life, now leaving
As red as brown can be.

Bye, blood – my blood.
So natural to observe.
Blood that came from deep inside
My uterus’ curve.

Stop it! Don’t cringe!
Don’t judge and don’t hate.
It’s natural for females.
That God did create.

We’re special. And loved.
And have a special gift.
Of carrying a baby.
When it is our due shift.

But meanwhile as we wait.
Please be patient and kind.
Our calendar must be
In God’s plan aligned.

It’s wonderful to be like this.
Just as God intended.
So right now all I wish is
To not be reprimanded.

For not taking pills.
And not being like a “he”.
After all, the choice is mine.
And I choose being… me!

The end.

So there you go! Hope you liked it!

I don’t like it when people joke about woman being on their period or PMSing. Or treating it as disgusting or bad and giving the birth control pill “solution”. Currently I’ve been hearing lots of women defending the pills and trying to get more girls to use them just because it’s “cool” to have control over your body (not because of acne or any other treatment)… people from church, I must add. *sighs*

I might blog again about godly femininity and why I chose not to take birth control pills. I think it’s a great subject to talk about that should be more discussed.

Anyway, shout out to all the ladies out there that are currently in pain for being on their period… You rock! God is with us!

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Eternal Ink – A poem by Craig F. Pitts

I saw this poem on this Wordpress blog and just had to share it.

I dreamed I was in heaven
Where an angel kept God‘s book.
He was writing so intently
I just had to take a look.

It was not, at first, his writing
That made me stop and think
But the fluid in the bottle
That was marked ETERNAL INK.

This ink was most amazing,
Dark black upon his blotter
But as it touched the parchment
It became as clear as water.

The angel kept on writing,
But as quickly as a wink
The words were disappearing
With that strange ETERNAL INK.

The angel took no notice,
But kept writing on and on.
He turned each page and filled it
Till all its space was gone.

I thought he wrote to no avail,
His efforts were so vain
For he wrote a thousand pages
That he’d never read again.

And as I watched and wondered that
This awesome sight was mine,
I actually saw a word stay black
As it dried upon the line.

The angel wrote and I thought I saw
A look of satisfaction.
At last he had some print to show
For all his earnest action.

A line or two dried dark and stayed
As black as black can be,
But strangely the next paragraph
Became invisible to see.

The book was getting fuller,
The angel’s records true,
But most of it was blank, with
Just a few words coming through.

I knew there was some reason,
But as hard as I could think,
I couldn’t grasp the significance
Of that ETERNAL INK.

The mystery burned within me,
And I finally dared to ask
The angel to explain to me
Of his amazing task.

And what I heard was frightful
As the angel turned his head.
He looked directly at me,
And this is what he said…

I know you stand and wonder
At what my writing’s worth
But God has told me to record
The lives of those on earth.

The book that I am filling
Is an accurate account
Of every word and action
And to what they do amount.

And since you have been watching
I must tell you what is true;
The details of my journal
Are the strict accounts of YOU.

The Lord asked me to watch you
As each day you worked and played.
I saw you as you went to church,
I saw you as you prayed.

But I was told to document
Your life through all the week.
I wrote when you were proud and bold,
I wrote when you were meek.

I recorded all your attitudes
Whether they were good or bad.
I was sorry that I had to write
The things that make God sad.

So now I’ll tell the wonder
of this ETERNAL INK,
For the reason for its mystery
Should make you stop and think

This ink that God created
To help me keep my journal
Will only keep a record of
Things that are eternal.

So much of life is wasted
On things that matter not
So instead of my erasing,
Smudging ink and ugly blot

I just keep writing faithfully and
Let the ink do all the rest
For it is able to decide
What’s useless and what’s best.

And God ordained that as I write
Of all you do and say
Your deeds that count for nothing
Will just disappear away.

When books are opened someday,
As sure as heaven is true;
The Lord’s ETERNAL INK will tell
What mattered most to you.

If you just lived to please yourself
The pages will be bare,
And God will issue no reward
For you when you get there.

In fact, you’ll be embarrassed,
You will hang your head in shame
Because you did not give yourself
In love to Jesus’ Name.

Yet maybe there will be a few
Recorded lines that stayed
That showed the times you truly cared,
Sincerely loved and prayed.

But you will always wonder
As you enter heaven’s door
How much more glad you would have been
If only you’d done more.

For I record as God sees,
I don’t stop to even think
Because the truth is written
With God’s ETERNAL INK.

When I heard the angel’s story
I fell down and wept and cried
For as yet I still was dreaming
I hadn’t really died.

And I said: O Angel tell the Lord
That soon as I awake
I’ll live my life for Jesus
I’ll do all for His dear sake.

I’ll give in full surrender;
I’ll do all He wants me to;
I’ll turn my back on self and sin
And whatever isn’t true.

And, though the way seems long and rough
I promise to endure
I’m determined to pursue the things
That are holy, clean and pure.

With Jesus as my helper,
I will win lost souls to Thee,
For I know that they will live with Christ
For all eternity.

And that’s what really matters
When my life on earth is gone
That I will stand before the Lord
And hear Him say, well done.

For is it really worth it
As my life lies at the brink?
And I realize that God keeps books
With His ETERNAL INK.

Should all my life be focused
On things that turn to dust?
From this point on I’ll serve the Lord;
I can, I will, I must!

I will NOT send blank pages
Up to God’s majestic throne
For where that record’s going now
Is my eternal home.

I’m giving all to Jesus
I now have seen the link
For I saw an angel write my life
With God’s ETERNAL INK.

Act fast.

She knew what would
happen.
That didn’t change
what she would
do.

The thoughts were rushing
now.
So fastly that
they stopped.

Nothing was left except
the option
that poured itself
against her
mind.

The consequences
would hurt.
Hurt like fire.
Hurt like rain.

For it’s not only bad
when it burns –
When it’s wet
it’s just as
evil.

Except it’s masked
in a perfect
disguise
she wouldn’t fall for
any more.

Too many times before.
In the past.
In the future.

But in the present, no!
This time she was
convinced.

That is was air
she was
breathing;

Lacking.

And it was blood
she was
seeing;

Smelling.

Quickly now.
There’s no more time.
There’s no more
time.

Run!

Die.

18-05-11

The Ring.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Love and commitment
Worn on her hand.

Fights. Disagreements.
Shameful acts and words.
Cursing and cries
Spit out of her heart.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Sin and disgrace
Worn on her hand.

Screams and disgust.
Steam from the core.
Illusion and masks
Dressing her eyes.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Madness and lies
Worn on her hand.

Envy and greed.
Selfish discussions.
Fiction and lust.
Hopes breaking apart.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Failure and fault
Worn on her hand.

Prayer and help
Transforming despair.
Kindness and trust.
The bending of knees.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Grace and forgiveness
Worn on her hand.

Repenting and mercy.
Changing of ways.
Hugs and renewal
Recalling her dreams.

Golden and round.
A diamond on top.
Beauty and honour
Worn on her hand.

Paper and Pen – Suicide Note.

Today, during one of my university classes, a specific modern-looking poem appeared wherever I looked. It was about a pen and a paper working together to create the typical suicide note. I had to write it down before it made me insane. And now I present it here:

paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pa
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pa
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper paper paper pap
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pa
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen pen paper
paper pen pen pen pen paper paper paper paper paper pape
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pap
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pen pen pen pap
paper paper paper paper paper pen pen pen pen pen pen pap
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper pap
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper bloo
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper blood bloo
paper paper paper paper paper paper paper blood blood bloo

Have I gone mad? 

Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
It doesn’t go away in a day.
It’s not as simple as a frown or growl. –
It’s slow, making each breath very weak.
So tiring and real. And fake. And true.
A lie that’s so bold,
It cannot not hurt me,
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
I’d rather be sad, than depressed.
I’d rather not have these burning tears.
This heartache is too much for me.
So much I cannot feel it
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
It’s not agony or fear.
So much deeper; So within.
So inexplicable and cruel.
A thief, making me a clown.
No wonder I have nothing,
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
Say all I’ll never hear.
It won’t help, but don’t worry,
Things are pretty stable now.
I’m not going to sink in,
For it’s not possible to do so
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
I’m as sorry as I’ll ever be.
Take it for granted, throw it away.
Keep it locked up, cut though the pain.
Lay on the grass. Brown, not green.
It hasn’t been watered,
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
I await right here.
Where no bird can sing
Any melancholic tunes.
For they are all too happy,
Compared to this feeling,
Of not having where to go,
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
A cry for a miracle, perhaps.
Untouchable; Unique.
Full of wisdom, desperation.
Just like cattle: Standing, eating.
Knowing the farmer will come.
And kill it. And sell it.
Not care or touch its young,
Any more.

It’s depression, not sadness.
A hungry hope yet to come.
And when it comes – Oh! the wonders!
Of joy, relief and pride.
No, not pride. Never!
I refuse to go that low.
The well will not consume me,
Or swallow all my love,
Any more.

Any more.

Any.

More.