Category Archives: Poetry

Sometimes I get poetic and must get it out before it drives me nuts. Alright, more nuts. I’m nutty enough already.

Peace

Courtesy of Mrs. Wanner.

Courtesy of Mrs. Wanner.

Your touch dances upon the surface of my skin.

My breath is stolen by the smell of your sweet kiss.

I break out in a smile feeling the warmth of your gaze.

For I have found in your loving embrace…

PEACE!

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Two Sperm Tales

I had a request for poems about “the journey of a sperm for kids” from Mr. Google this week. Inspired by the challenge I created the following poems.

A Sperm’s Tale

By Matthew Wanner

In a moment of love,
during a time of joy;
an army of sperm
shot out of the boy.

First order of business
we instinctively knew,
find the cervix door
and march right on through.

Many didn’t make it,
a high price we paid.
But now in the uterus
a choice must be made.

Some swam to the left,
but I chose the right.
We could only guess
where the egg took flight.

In the tube we waited,
wondering how lucky we’d be.
When out of the depths,
an egg we could see.

We sprang into action,
the first I was not;
but none of the others
had found the right spot.

Wiggling my tail,
giving it my all;
I punched my way in
through the egg wall.

The egg gave a shutter
as it split into two,
and then it repeated
until we – became you.

———————————–
BUT WAIT! What about those of us not able to have children naturally? Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you. 😀

A Sperm’s Tale – ICSI Style

By Matthew Wanner

The scouting reports wrong?
How could that be?
We’re in a plastic cup
from what I could see.

Yes it’s a cup
which is now enclosed.
Glad it’s not the floor,
but man this blows.

Placed in a door,
left with a bell ring;
a woman picked us up
who couldn’t even sing.

Scooped into a tube,
then spun really quick.
Packed in so tight
I thought I’d be sick.

Sucked up and spit out
onto some glass,
with a light so bright
I wished this would pass.

Sperm were then taken,
captured one by one.
First Frank, then Paul,
we knew they weren’t done.

I was selected,
an egg my new place.
This is the life,
and I didn’t even race.

Five days we divided,
our progress was tracked.
We were then selected,
the rest frozen and packed.

Finally in the uterus,
we made our estate.
While the parents would suffer
the dreaded two week wait.

A ring of the phone,
followed by tears of glee.
That my sweet child
is how you came to be.

© copyright 2011-2012

Dear IVFmale, Sperm Out!

Sorry folks. Works been keeping me busy, but we all need a break once in a while…right! An interesting group of searches this week. Let’s get started…

—ivf male blogspot

Uhm. I’m on wordpress. But you found me anyway so you’re forgiven.
Nothing against blogspot, I just like wordpress.

—4dp3dt temperature spike

Stop! I know it’s a long wait and old habits die hard. Give the basal thermometer a rest. One thing I’ve learned is symptom checking during IVF isn’t helpful. It might mean implantation is occurring, but it could also be a hundred other reasons too. You’re just making the roller coaster ride worse. Good luck with your beta and I’m wishing you a BFP!

—poem for a ivf couple trying

Well since you asked…

There once was a couple trying to conceive,
hopes for a family they would soon achieve,
a doctor they would pay
IVF’s the only way
a journey harder than any would believe.

—the sperm out last time

😆 I honestly haven’t a clue what you’re hoping to find. Something about this search reminded me of the song Le Freak by Chic and what Weird Al Yankovic might have done with it. Let’s have some fun shall we?

Le Sperm by IVFmale.
(Satire of Le Freak by Chic)

Chorus:
Ah, sperm out!
Le sperm, c’est chic
Sperm out!
Ah, sperm out!
Le sperm, c’est chic
Sperm out!

Have you heard about the new fun craze?
Listen to me, I’m sure you’ll be amazed
Big fun to be had by every male
It’s up to you, it surely can not fail

Young and old are doing it, I’m told
Just one try and you too will be sold
It’s called ‘Le Sperm’, I’m doing it right now
Allow me, I will show you how

(chorus)

All that pressure got you down
Has your head been spinning all around?
Feel the rhythm, there’s no crime
Come on along and have a real good time

Like the days of jerking as a boy
Now we “sperm,” oh, what a joy
Just head on in through the bathroom door
Try not to shoot it on the floor

(chorus)

Now sperm
I said sperm
Now sperm

All that pressure got you down
Has your head been spinning all around?
Feel the rhythm, there’s no crime
Come on along and have a real good time

Like the days of jerking as a boy
Now we “sperm,” oh, what a joy
Just head on in through the bathroom door
Try not to shoot it on the floor

(chorus)

© copyright 2011-2012

Poem for my blog

Yesterday fellow blogger rarasaur caught the poetry bug and wanted to write a limerick or a haiku about other blogs and was asking for requests. Curious and amused by this request, I submitted my blog for consideration. I was completely blown away with the result. The request line is still open if you’re interested. Without further ado…

 

 

IVF Male and the story of his folding mistress and battle for children to be.

A man tells a tale of fertility,

from a bathroom designed for sterility,

a small folded chair

keeps him grounded in where

parenthood is founded — humility.

Dear Ivfmale, POAS poems?

This week looks like a bust. Not much on the search engine list of note. A new one for “DPchallenge” since I’ve started participating in the Daily Post Challenge for fun. But I must admit, “Daily Post” is not what comes to mind when I think of DPchallenge. Probably what caught my attention in the first place.

I also had one person looking for “IVF poetry” that caught my attention. I have been in a poetic mood as of late. I’ve found it very therapeutic in expressing emotions that I’m struggling with. I’ll be doing more of it to be sure, but poetry should also be about helping others. I’m interested in writing poems on topics that are normally overlooked.

I haven’t seen much poetry dealing with peeing on a stick (POAS). Barrenart has a lovely one called Pink that touches on the subject. But nothing on the addiction that is afflicting the infertile community.

For inspiration I turned to self-confessed POAS addict and good online friend Belle from Scrambled-Eggs, and her post on Tuesday about her latest experience with POAS.
I already made sure she wasn’t offended by the poem. 😉 She loved it! 😀

A P.O.A.S. Story

By Matthew Wanner

Who is this Chick?
Her name is Belle.
If life is a journey.
She has been through hell.

Belle has an addiction.
One you may not see.
She will purchase a stick,
and on it pee, pee, pee.

She pees in the morning.
When she knows it’s best.
But she will also pee at night.
Just to get some rest.

These sticks aren’t cheap,
they cost quite a lot.
When the bill will arrive,
the Professor will be hot.

But what can he do,
she is the love of his life.
He said those magic words,
that made her his wife.

Then something happened,
as Belle was peeing with glee.
A hint of a line,
one she could barely see.

She called the Professor,
begged him to come quick.
“Do you see a line?”
And showed him the stick.

“I think I do.”
he proudly exclaimed.
Agreeing to caution.
Excitement should be contained.

Belle continued to pee,
until her hearts delight.
Buying fresh sticks,
to pee on day and night.

She wanted to be sure.
A line everyone could see.
She would be a Mom.
Announcing her BFP!

© copyright 2011-2012

It’s not easy being green

Green with IVF

By Matthew Wanner

Green is the money spent on a wish,
for a child to call our own.
Purple are the bruises on my wife’s back,
just inside each hipbone.
White are my knuckles as I readied each shot,
frightened I am causing her pain.
Red is the love I feel for my wife,
for a resolve that never did wane.

Green are my wife’s beautiful eyes,
I once hoped a child would share.
Brown would be fine, just like mine,
eye color I no longer did care.
Yellow is the road of our hopes and dreams,
wondering what it’s gender might be.
Blue are the tears, hopes replaced by fears,
for a child we never would see.

Green I am with envy,
watching coworkers ask off to give birth.
Black is my shame for feeling that way,
tying fertility to my own self-worth.
Orange will be tomorrow’s sky at dawn,
certain the sun will rise.
What color comes next is anyones guess,
waiting on life’s next surprise.

This weeks challenge is to add a splash of color to your blog.

© copyright 2011-2012

Dear Ivfmale, Poetry

It’s Wednesday, so lets see what the search engine report has for me this week. Hmm, not much.

—my wife is not commited to ivf

Sounds like my ex-wife. She would be gung-ho about some together project in the beginning, and half way through it she would lose interest leaving me to finish the job. I imagine if I found out about my infertility back then, I would likely be in the situation you are right now. The ivf process is very hard on a woman’s body and emotional state. Pushing her into a decision she isn’t committed to will only backfire. The stimulation meds will guarantee this. Take time to build up your savings and see if she comes around.

—ivf with new puppy

Not sure what you are looking for here. I’ve found the new puppy to be a good distraction. He will keep you busy playing, peeing on the rug, chewing on things he shouldn’t, there is always something to do or watch for with a new puppy. Although it may complicate the already complicated schedule of stimulation drugs and doctor appointments, you will be thankful for the puppy’s ability to demand your attention.

————

That’s it? Maybe better luck next week. Anyway, I’m really excited my poem was reblogged by Barrenart yesterday. Check her blog out. I think this is a brilliant idea to have an Infertile Art Gallery of sorts. Since it’s a slow search week and I’m feeling inspired, I leave you another poem that I’ve been pondering…

Male Factor Condoms

By Matthew Wanner

Purchased in bulk.
Hating each one of you.
Protecting plans for the future.
Suffering Awkwardness

All for nothing.
Hating each one of you.
Avoided buying stereo.
Money flushed down toilet.

Crap! No refunds.

Happy Humpday!

© copyright 2011-2012

I have dreamed a dream…

but now that dream is gone from me. – Morpheus

A Dream Lost

By Matthew Wanner

Oh how I have dreamed,
for years allowed to grow.
A face, a smile, a love,
that one day I would know.

Choices have been pondered,
to make this world your own.
The name, rules, and school,
to mold until you’ve grown.

Lessons carefully collected,
to help along the way.
Requirement that is no more,
on the shelf they’ll forever stay.

Facing challenges with earnest,
a journey filled with strife.
Hoping to grant one gift,
the precious gift of life.

Alas the battle was lost,
this dream must be set free.
Leaving me only to grieve,
the person you will never be.

Farewell my sweet dream,
for I can no longer view.
A new one must be found,
a dream without you.

© copyright 2011-2012