Young Writers Society

The air wet with blood,
The sound of organs stirring.
Raw red curtains rapidly unfurling.
- An interesting opening stanza indeed, I wouldn't expect somebody to start a poem about 'Birth' like this. I lost my rhythm here a bit, but interested, I continue on.

A sight veiled in water,
A coruscating disk.
Sterile walls slanting into stark square.
- I was bugged here by the fact I couldn't find a rhythm to read it. Each line is of different length and doesn't rhyme ( yes I figured it's a free rhyme poem, though it's just a bit troublesome reading a poem with a broken rhythm ), but it's still got a good imaginery, I continue on.

Through the caul, a warped reflection:
Emerging shrill from a fleshy hothouse,
Crushed beneath wheels of fluorescence.
Tender pink skin laced with blue veins,
And eyes of indefinite hue.
- A change in pattern, though a good one. Leaving aside the rhythm ( which is not so broken here as in the stanza before ), I had to reread this twice and try to imagine it with the pictures given. A third stanza and the way you describe the birth still interests me to read further.

A splash is heard and the cord is cut.
The tension deafens all sound -
But the plunge of first breath is hollow.
- I was a bit lost here to be honest. Took me a bit to digest it, but then I found myself nodding to the fact it's good in terms of surreality.

It’s a sensation without victory but it lingers,
New yet familiar, like an old scar bleeding afresh.
Veins thicken, eyes bulge - this life is accepted.
- Probably my the most favorite stanza of this whole poem. I just liked the description here, felt like a description of an epic moment.

All is dauntless, full and real.
- Er... Alright. This stanza is just one line, it completely broke the pattern given and... Hm, it just felt really simple in comparison to the abstract and surreal imaginery you gave us in previous stanzas. An epic moment vanished with those words.