A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano
A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
I’m never gonna quit.
I left behind some parts of me,
I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play.
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.
Copyright © Angelo Casiano | Year Posted 2014
You come over all the time
We talk about everything
I know I can come to you
With anything because you
Will always understand
We have a lot in common
Some people ask why do you
Even talk to her
She don’t care about you
I tell them
They don’t know you like I do
And they never will
Because even though you’re not
Blood you are still my family
No matter what happens in
Twenty years or even two weeks
Down the road we will always be
Sisters for life
And I happy that I can look at you
And say I love you sis
Copyright © cortni basford | Year Posted 2013
At Dalton town where I was born
in Ozark hills of home,
There lived a man named Leamon Brown
who plowed the rich, black loam.
His wife, a sweet and gentle soul,
did not foresee his bent,
she daily worked beside her man
who seemed to be content.
But in his heart a wrath appeared
to poison spirit's peace.
When reason left, his anger grew
and clawed to find release.
He stepped behind her where she sat
and bent to kiss her lips,
withdrew his blade and slit her throat
while blood streamed down her hips.
In panic's grip she fled the house
but stumbled soon and fell.
The children screamed in frozen shock
and dove straight into hell.
One son ran to his mother's side
and held her as she died.
His siblings hid from daddy's blade;
he stood there, glassy eyed.
As gossip spread like raging fire
of murder in our town,
the newsmen raced to pen details
as lawmen dragged him down.
His deed became the hottest news
to ever hit our town
The judge declared the man insane
this man named Leamon Brown
Now he is locked behind closed doors,
his wife lies in the ground.
Though we lament the children's fate,
his kids are sorrow bound.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!
They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!
Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!
There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but surrendering distorts your honor!
As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!
To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007
When the world is bitter and cruel
remember my love i will comfort you.
When your heart is broken and lost
remember my love i will find you no matter what the cost.
When you have lost the will to go on
remember my love i will be the rock you can stand upon.
When the worries of your heart become too much to bare
remember my love i will always be there.
with hope in hand and i will always love you no matter the cost
remember my love you will never be lost.
Copyright © tina rossman | Year Posted 2012
Dark as a demon, but with the soul of
an angel, he's a Portuguese Water
Dog who's never been to sea, but, as
he oughta, he loves water, and highly
proprietary when you're watching
TV, downtime is shared, so it's his paw
on your foot, or else it's his head.
Morning ablutions, one leg in the air,
he waters a thicket, which wakes up a
cricket who begins to sing. The world
is his lavatory. Noblesse Obligatory.
It's a Water Dog thing.
for my granddog...
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2011
her heart is steaming with reason/ he got her body screaming
with semen/ emotions she's feeling/ is making her/ weak to her knees man/
scary temptation is on/ he got a chrome to her dome/as she lays face down in
the flow/ into her body he goes/ in the air waves/ she/ he/ screams/ curses/ and
moans/ is it by some body she knows part two is coming
Copyright © MICHAEL MALONE | Year Posted 2008
I came here with flowers
held gently to my sobbing chest,
to bring them to my dearest;
I have departed from the living,
to come face to face with my ending...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone...
engraved with a name too sweet,
and yet so painful to call it out;
the heat in my throbbing veins
could warm it up with a loving wish before dawn;
but who can resurrect someone from death?
This morning is dazzled by an intense sun,
carnations, flags and tombstones
perfectly blend as the swaying pines
offer their breeze and soothing shade towards noon;
why are the noisy larks hiding,
and melancholically sing?
I rushed here to release these tears
and let them roll from these eyes,
like raindrops falling on this very quiet place:
where tranquility is as eternal as Paradise...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone,
feeling a presence so known;
others before me have knelt and cried,
not to forget whom they lost and dearly loved...
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007
From fabrics torn, in ruin, she hail,
Above the deck, beneath the sail,
Above silent meadow, the sea,
Her frosty breath, in doom, she see.
Her fondness torn, her kids apart,
Though love follows her broken heart,
Her sorrow tears on rusted chains,
For holding children once again.
The howling steam erased skies,
And fright gallops the silent cries,
As faces pale in feeble grip,
And sea moaning the crowded ship.
The days are past, remedies none,
The burned down farms from firing sun,
They bent on knees for kids to feed,
Beneath the feet for coin, indeed.
Her husband dead from bones to sweat,
Hard labor earning, closing, debt,
She buried body, beneath the farm,
And begs for mercy, waiting harm.
The beats in rage far fierce than flame,
The bells were rung, with chains they came,
Her toes were trembling, wrath unfolds,
They tortured, beat and tied her, cold.
While taken heart and soul from kids,
The slave in chain with tearful lids,
They dragged and stripped in crowded street,
And brought with slaves to ship, the fleet.
Through cries unheard and night she sails,
With slaves in ship with fuming trails,
To hungers deep in scalding cold,
And chapped lip-lines numb, breaking hold.
Her skin was pale, the hunger tale,
As blue veins rose beneath her nails,
To fading night, her dim eyes sleep,
Her moon-light fades and die asleep.
Copyright © Anees Rahman | Year Posted 2014
He looks through the curtains as the meal is served
The sweat on his brow and the I.V. drips
Mom wears her apron with a picture of a turkey on it
It was her favorite and the music playing
And I'm coming home to where I'm loved
Father sits watching the game as the plate goes round
He had money on the wrong side but he swigs a beer
Everyone seems happy and content so he knocks on the door
No one hears and he stirs,trying to break free of the restraints
And I'm coming home to the warmth when I'm cold and alone
Where a man works and his wife cleans and raises the boys
Where desolation has no place to hide and no regret
And Mom hasn't begun drinking because her son left and will never come back
Where the geese still fly South to the warmth
Dogs bark and people have to stand to switch the channel
And I'm coming home
No cell phone or video games to gaze at and 24 hour news
The nurse brings a syringe and plunges it into my I. V.
The Angel wipes my soaking brow and gives me comfort
I'm alone with the mist and the murmur of the crickets
I'm coming home
The house is quiet and emptiness within
But Mom left a light on with expectation
A sign was set for all to know I'm coming
The quiet is lovely and the light welcomes
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
Ballad of the poet
When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early,
early bird gets the worm.
With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~ *K.D*
Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn,
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see," *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen.
BUT! In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul * R.A.D.*
"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within" *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart." *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul... *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time. *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace. *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face. * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace! *G.S.*
(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
I remember the very first time I saw you,
You wiped the sweat off your forehead,
I remember what all I use to say to you,
Followed my heart, I love you,
Maybe I needed to guard what I say,
Or express it in another way,
I hope I did you no harm,
Or is that what you call destiny,
Please know in your heart,
Eventhough how things played out,
My life and all its' worth,
Worth calling existing - living,
And without ever crossing paths,
My life would have been blah,
Words can not express how I feel about you,
Celebrate our love, if nothing more ever than be my best friend,
You are my very breath and hope of hearing from and possibly seeing you,
The very reason I make it through another day,
Our love we will celebrate far and away,
But in my heart, you are right here with me today,
I love you friend,
You make this world and all it contains worth living,
My heart smiles when it thinks of you,
I will somehow express my heart before I leave this earth,
So much I want to say,
I don't want to complicate things,
I just want you to be healthy, happy and carefree,
I know you love me,
You don't have to say it like I so often do,
I knew day one,
When I became good friends to you!
I love you, boo!
Best of luck,
Live like you were dying!
Copyright © Jason Fisher | Year Posted 2013
I write to you as a writer
know you are in school
Because you are still a big fool
Your being wise
On your book
that you should keenly look
open every page sister
read every text sister
Get that wisdom
Embrace that wisdom.
sister write every word
paint every picture
for those words
pictures your future
so don't sleep
for you might slip.
it is now 7 months
in your form three
I check at my wrist
my watch is ticking
click by click
time is whiled away
sister use every chance
exploit every minute
for you are worth
living this earth.
I have to say
u got the accident
I realized you are a light
to several hearts
embrace that and shine
For you are a true NDHINE
you are the MARVELOUS GRIFFINS
Realize your potential
for you are exponential....
come next year
I want to praise you dear
I want to hear the people calling out
I want to hear the world shout
I want to see your parents Marvel
For they gave birth to Marvelous Marvelous.
May you live long and shine bright like white.
Copyright © Griffins Ndhine | Year Posted 2014
I have a mother like no other...
Never really understood her when i was younger...
To others she was always kind and giving...
Yet to her children she was mostly harsh and controlling...
I have always wanted to know why but never did...
And as i age i often felt like a lost kid...
Constantly searching for love and care...
Something i felt my own mother would not even bare...
Now that she has aged too...
It breaks my heart and makes me shed a tear or two...
To see her old and weary...
Crossed my mind to ask her finally...why mommy?
Then it suddenly dawned on me...i do not need an answer...
For all i have to do is look at her...
Hard and long enough, without any anger...
Think of all the people she kept under her wings...
And be thankful of how they took off and soared...
Because of all the love my mother could afford...
I figured if she has saved a life at our expense...
Then....everything makes sense...
Copyright © Eliza Dimagiba | Year Posted 2012
He crouches behind a false wall…hoping, praying,
Listening carefully to the commotion outside.
A knock on the door, another, two more!
They kick the door in and storm inside.
Men with rifles, boys with guns,
Searching, preying, abducting, killing,
They turn over the table and kick over a few chairs,
As they search every nook and corner of the building.
Finding nothing they eventually leave,
He heaves a sigh of relief
He looks at his wife, tears streaming down her face,
They nod in agreement, it is time to leave.
As night draws near, they sneak outside,
Scanning the place for the infidels.
He carries a rucksack, it’s all that they have,
A few clothes, some photos and some medicine.
She follows along, her son in her arms,
They make their way to the sea shore;
They stop in their tracks, their hearts skips a beat…
A gunshot, another, two more!
A man walks towards them, a gun in his hand,
They kneel, he comes in a little closer;
He asks where they are going, they don’t say a word
The child starts crying, they think it’s all over.
Then the man asks them to follow him,
They stand up and do as they are told.
He takes them to a place where there stands a boat,
He takes all their money and asks them to get aboard.
A few hours later, the silence breaks...
A scream, another, two more!
The boat is sinking they jump in the water,
Their life-jackets barely keep them afloat.
A woman beside them struggles to swim,
He takes off his life-jacket and gives it to her,
He asks his family to keep on swimming,
He promises to meet them on the shore.
Later that day she waits on the beach,
A body washes up, another, two more!
She cries as she hugs her dear little boy,
He should be proud, his dad was a hero.
They turn and start walking towards the city
Refugees, aliens, total unknowns;
Some strangers walk up to help them
A new friend, another, two more.
-I wrote this poem based on the true stories of refugees, that have been highlighted on the Facebook page, "Humans Of New York". I want to dedicate this to all those going through the current refugee crisis. Our prayers are with you.
Copyright © Samuel John | Year Posted 2015
My Family is very important to me
We are all united
We all love each other
Being together just makes us so excited
Now I'm going to tell you about my mom
She loves us all
She is always so calm
She does so much for us
Next up is my dad
He always tries to be so funny
But his jokes are so bad
It's really quite sad
Last is my brother
He really likes to dance
He's really like no other
Being silly is really his thing
Copyright © Hannah Stockwell | Year Posted 2015
I have lived,
And felt the cost,
Paid my dues,
But I have lost_ You.
Still I pray,
As chaos looms,
And as my blue turns into grey,
The angels sing- In tune.
Don't be giving in,
Don't give up my son,
Or fade away,
Lift your chin with the sun__ And rise,
With this new day!.
I have lived,
And felt the cost of all my wonderin ways,
I've paid my dues,
I - Have lost you.
I can hear the angels sing,
Your in a mistaken land__ Lessons learned in truth,
As the grey seeks out the blue,
She will__ Your daughter my son---
She will return--- To You.
For I have lived,
Felt the cost of all my walkin days,
I've paid my dues,
I- Lost you....
I wont be giving in,
Won't give up my girl,
Or fade away,
I'll lift my chin with the sun---
With this new day...
Copyright © Ryan Harris | Year Posted 2014
Lets climb up that old tree,
make the clouds disappear.
Let’s climb up that old, lemon colored tree,
make the rain clouds disappear.
Rough wood, and a rickety ladder,
White christmas lights trim the slumping roof
over a few branches
and we're crawling-
through the doors
of a star-gazing tree house
full of nostalgia.
Sounds of traffic, cross walk conversations
Trotting past that old jazz bar,
a mexican family arguing on the stoops,
funny how an unknown language
can still make sense on the inside.
the mother gestures her son upstairs to sleep,
But my world’s only waking.
There’s a party up ahead.
and there’s something ‘bout the nights’ breeze
blowing off the cars and into the trees.
its Got my heart singing about this new love I’ve found.
Copyright © Katelyn Dobbs | Year Posted 2012
We took her to the nursing home
to visit family,
She happily skipped down its halls
beside the elderly.
Withered hands reached for curls,
Old eyes filled with duress,
Some followed her in patched wheelchairs
and praised her pretty dress.
Those darling giggles brought them near
as she played silly games,
And several ladies called her closer,
each using different names.
A wheezing man gave her biscuits
then pleaded that she pray
so she clasped her hands for him
in her angelic way.
She proudly danced for worn nurses,
Then sang her A, B, C’s,
And drummed out the barking curses
of stale senility.
Oh, my girl treated them like pets
Who had just too far roamed,
And sweetly asked with guileless eyes,
“Why can’t I take one home?”
*For Joann Grisetti's Copy Cat Contest
*This poem is a tribute to Edna St Vincent Millay's A Visit to the Asylum, done in a similar form (ballad), though Edna's syllable count is looser. This is based on our weekly visits with my father-in-law. We take my daughter and she brings such joy to the place, yet my blood freezes as I'm never sure who will say what to her, and erratic strangers are contantly trying to pull her into their laps, steal hugs and kisses. It is both beautiful and disturbing and I've been wanting to write about this for several months. I had seen the similiarity between Edna's poem and my daughter's experiences. Glad to put this to paper in this way. Thanks, Joann.
Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2012
I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had;
Its time to step up and be a real dad;
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
Its time that I start doing good than the bad;
I want for my child to see me as a role model;
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle;
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow;
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow;
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow;
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst;
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst;
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
Soul with soul in the light of the candles said
One was open and gentle, the second... like talking...
Only grey, only ignorance, bursts of anger....
"Forgive me... the first said, if I blew it...
His love... and even unwittingly...
But what could hurt, I don't understand...
-Yes no-same... everything is fine... I love you too... I'm just sad...
And candle light only reflected her sorrow, in her warmth as if they were shaking...
Meanwhile there was a dark cloud of anger...
He understood that there is no love... not understand what...
What he did not, for fear of offending...
But, unfortunately, we are blind, when we love much... can't see...
Haven't seen it warmly giving his that she doesn't need heat... it burns...
Her cold, January was looking for cold
And he with his warmth... he's a piece of ice to snow... young... he was not needed...
Tossed between heaven and earth...
The wind white
And the winter cold... the February Blizzard...
And he fired her... frost...
And I thought that love burns...
How often do we more desire accept...
Chalk the wind, and he warmth of his just killed her, trying to melt the snowflakes
Not realizing that in the heat, cold, soft snow only became... in the piece...
But his soul did not cool down... and Blizzard tried to Shine, to dispel the darkness...
And only killed...
Left in a snowstorm second... and didn't finish... and anger is not dissipated... the drifts between them...
Left second... never ottaw... and icicles on eyelashes only leaving him...
And soul freezing solid, hard crust... she breaks down... with the soul breaks down... and hurt... hurt... hurt...
And ice on eyelashes is melted... tears... flowing into a wound on the soul and expanding the wounds...
Soul with soul in the light of the candles said
One was open and gentle... then... killed...
© Copyright: Konstantin Achapowski, 2014
The certificate of publication No. 115010602425
Copyright © Konstantin Achapovskiy | Year Posted 2015
Sweet Angel of mine
Euphoria as high as the eye can see
The immediate cultivation of a man
In the most blissful of moments
On that special day you came to be
So delicate, so precious
Those distinguishable features
Leery eyed, despite a struggle to focus
And for that one brief instant your expression begged the question…
Do I know you?
In this one shining moment a connection took form
The sealing of a bond, strong enough to withstand the most horrific storm
The pride that was embedded
The reflection was prophetic
Whatever will be your endeavor, you have an eternal protector
This world can swallow you if you let it
So, shine my little angel
Find strength in your name
Someday you’ll know pain,
But always remember
The first man who held your hand will always be your softest place to land
Always and forever
But for this day, beauty has been refined and enhanced
So will you save the last dance?
You can walk with me in a park
You can speak your worst fears
You can tell me what’s on your heart
You can dampen my shirt with tears
And they’ll be a day when you blossom and you’ll find that love expands
The feeling moves you
The energy super
It will lead you down an aisle towards your future
And you’ll still be my little angel
Just know that in all your days
Whether from here or above
Forever my angel
For always in my heart
For you, all my love
Copyright©2013 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved
Copyright © Daryl Gaines | Year Posted 2014
I left you long ago for a place unknown
Every time I remember how it used to be
My heart is always flooded with memories
It was not always about the running water, electricity or the good roads
It was simply about the rich abiding love that people shared with others
If I did not show up at church, somebody stopped by to check that I was okay
If they did not turn up at a place, it was my duty to be certain that everything was alright
Neighbors were family friends not just people you waved to
Deeds were done not for a fee but out of love and that was the way we rolled
I became a mother for the first time in a strange land, I could not be more lonely
Husband had to go to school, I had no one to turn to
I called my Mama, thousands of miles in Africa, I wept and wept
All she could say was, "baby you can do it" you go on and be blessed
It was tough, it was hard but I made it
If I did not know God in a personal way, I might have lost it
I miss you Oh land of my birth every now and then
The laughter, the pure joy, the unfailing love I shared with others
The help of others that was always at hand
Everyone looking for what they could give not what they could get
Though you have your share of woes but you are still the land of my birth
Though you are still developing as a nation, you have qualities that can not be compared
I have found a home in this place, it is no longer strange
I have been blessed with a family and friends that do care
Copyright © TOYIN JOHN | Year Posted 2012
Stirring twice daily, cross nation and state,
At sunrise and set, gobbling children as bait.
Hot days or cold—matters not to these beasts,
Who inhale then spit out, our young and our meek.
Powerless, we watch and groan as they move,
Lights flashing to warn, and mess with our mood.
Frustration, impatience—both held in check,
My daily commute, now a train wreck.
Yet somewhere inside, not talked about much,
Reassurance young lives, today will be touched.
By the monster a prowl, on streets in our town,
To make the round trips, for schools they surround.
It's by faith we let go, as our little ones step,
Aboard as today's lessons, by teachers are prepped.
One last prayer for favor, and no dangerous fuss,
As they ride in the Ogre, we call a school bus.
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2015
Remember when days were long
And all de children do is play:
Or how de burnin sun hot like fire
And snow cone ice melt away,
When I was a wee lad in Trinidad
And licks fuh so in de bam bam
If I do or say I right when I wrong!
Playin cricket in de front yard
In ragged shirt and watchicong,
Wit my bat and pad in Trinidad
Hear de dogs of Independence,
"Masser's day has come" dey bark,
And snarl "now we in charge!"
But all dey do is fete and skylark,
Dats why tings bad in Trinidad
Den me faddah "really speakin"...
And me muddah, how she grieve:
"Aye yah yie, it time to vamoose...
Oh crime...it time to leave",
Dat all hell gone mad in Trinidad
I say to she "yuh makin joke!
Mummy, what is dis tomfoolery?"
Man, next ting I know I on a boat
Past de Bocas headin out to sea,
And I was sad to leave Trinidad
Dey get vex and riot in de street,
Trow stick, pelt stone, and cuss:
Shout "Black Power...Malcolm X..."
PNM say "why all yuh makin fuss?"
But tings get real bad in Trinidad
Trinis start to swell up dey face
And ax demself "is all yuh fuh real?"
Criminals was skinnin dey teet
Burnin and lootin lookin to steal -
Destroyin what we had in Trinidad
But I would from my exile return
De land of rapso, kaiso, and calypso!
Where de panman play, "padna"
And de Cahneeval jumpin fuh so,
Den I was glad to see Trinidad
Back to limin on sandy beach
Wit buss-up and shark 'n bake...
Drinkin rum, Carib, and Stag spyin
All de girls backside shake!
Girls sweet too bad in Trinidad
If yuh see party fuh so in East
Or fete in de village dong Sout:
And Jouvay dawn at Pelican Inn
Till Road March jump and shout,
Dis is de lime I had in Trinidad
Me faddah, he like de ole talk,
De ghost of Jumbie Bridge in he head:
"Murder!" He laugh at all dem Trins
And how dey all "fraid de dead!"
In Big Bertha clad from Trinidad
He tink of tings back home like
When de plum and de mango ripe:
"Jeez-an-wrinkles!" He bol face say
How "Crapo smoke yuh pipe!"
God bless my dad from Trinidad
He steups so and he say "boy,
Trinidad full of ba'john and ole tief!
Riddled wit crime and corruption...
Warahouns in charge, good grief!
And for all dis I sad for Trinidad
Me muddah too, she say to me
"Hold strain and calm yuhself chile!"
She say "son, doh be a saga boy,
Doh flash and doh make style"
Lest you be a cad from Trinidad
Man, de whole place gone to hell
And dey doh know how to fix she:
All de younger generation fuhget
What it mean to be a Trini -
To be proud and glad in Trinidad
Now dey pull out cutlass and gun
If on dey tail yuh lash out and cuff!
Man, dese days no-one safe at all,
Trins fed-up and had enough!
How tings get so mad in Trinidad
All yuh in T 'n T so blasted vex
At de government and Manning:
But in trute yuh still like to fete
And drink and lime and ting!
Den bawl bobbol bad in Trinidad
It jus like back in de Canboulay
When de lawless slaves run wild,
Or in de dark days of rebellion
And uprisin when I was a child,
When tings went rad in Trinidad
A pelau or buljol in yuh mout -
Sorrel, a mauby, me ginger beers:
Gimme pastelle and ponchecrema
From Christmas to Ole Years!
Dis is de taste I had of Trinidad
De Spanish come, de French too -
Boy, de British dey bring a queen:
Dat was way back when dis island
Was de jewel of de Caribbean,
Before I was a wee lad in Trinidad
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014
Life is you and me
while the earth go's around
each of us you see.
life is like a maypole
if we are strong at heart
with family or friends
we always stick together
until the very end.
life is like a maypole
a simple smile will do
to get each of us through.
life is you and me
no matter what your problem is
don't let go,
just go with God flow-- because
life is like a maypole
Copyright © SHARLOTTE NEWAN | Year Posted 2015
Look after Joe our mother said
We promised we would do it
She needed a break from all of us
And went out of town for a visit.
It was the spring of '93
The blizzard had ruined my place
So Sam was helping clean up my yard
Little did we know
We'd soon be red in the face!
I went down to check on Joe
He asked me to regulate his shower
I told him I'd do it later
And asked if he could wait an hour.
An hour passed, then two
We were busy with what we were doing
We forgot Joe needed a hand
And was sitting, waiting, stewing.
When I remembered to go back
I found it out of my power
For Joe had taken matters into his own hands
And was stepping out of the shower.
You adjusted the water, I began
Oh no Miss Emily
I could not do it myself
It was that nice policeman.
Where did you find a policeman
Out here in the sticks, I cried
Knowing in my heart something was wrong.
Easy Miss Emily, I figured it out
I needed help,
So I dialed 911.
I was horrified, afraid they would think us bad
For neglecting our uncle that fine spring day
Too busy to give him what he needed
Scared they'd take him away.
Oh no probem Jane
The man said when I called
We understand what happened today
Just tell Uncle Joe if he does it again
That out of his pocket he'll pay.
Our mother was not happy with us
But eventually thought it great fun
That Uncle Joe took matters into his own hands
And for help, dialed 911.
Copyright © E.J. Smith | Year Posted 2012
Oh Paper Clip, Dear Paper Clip
let me always sing your praises!
You keep my pages held tight
without the violence of stapling
and yet your grip is so gentle as
to release a sheet without a blemish.
When the project in your care concludes
you go back into the desk desk drawer
with nary a complaint or a quibble
and fall back into the stiff routine
of anticipating the next chance
to make yourself useful.
You are so loyal and understanding
that even when I ask you to be
a hanger of christmas ornaments
you immediately bend to the task.
You don't even mind
when I straighten you out
and use you like a toothpick.
You remain the consummate aide
through both thick reams and thin.
You have won my heart
you little metallic angel
and if Mother approves
I have every intention
of making you an honest binder.
Copyright © Roy Batts | Year Posted 2013
I pray for the day,
That my sweet child comes home,
To my loving arms,
So, I can love and hold them tightly,
Each and everyday of their lives,
To be there for them and guide them,
As they learn to grow,
Into a wonderful adult,
That I know they will become,
For they have such a wonderful heart,
And as people will see them grow each year,
Learning along their way,
Having their own imagination,
To shine and guide them,
To be a very unique person of their own,
But they are already very different,
In many different ways,
By their looks and their loving heart,
And of course being very smart,
Their beauty will shine,
In many different ways,
Both inside and out,
And I pray for the day,
They will come home,
To stop these painful, loving tears.
Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013
He holds the bear gently in his old wrinkled hands as he gazes into its kind beaded eyes. The toy collector sees love lined in its double stitches and his childhood in the busted toys smile.
There stitched in black thread he can hear the sound of a child laughter, happiness, and growth reviving his memory of youth, like a jolt of life to an empty vein.
The years have passed freely, almost fleeting by. He had no more time to play in grassy school yards or hide from girls wearing satin dress, he had to grow up. The boy eventually turned into a man and was forced to pack away his toys regrettably into a wooden box.
There they sat in the attic awaiting the return of their beloved friend while he aged slowly into an adult.
High school came and went, college, even marriage but unfortunately he was never blessed with his own child. No one to share in the lined pleats of his own childhood. All of this he now recognizes in the bears sandy eyes.
The toy collector hands his most prized procession to his wife, a dazed look covering his forlorn face.
She takes his withered hand and speaks gently in his ear.
“All the memories in the world could never replace the love between a man and his bear.”
“Yes, but even the toy collector eventually grows to old and must let go.”
He replies in woe.
His thin lips force a smile as he repacks the boxes that escaped him long ago and in the early morn of the next day he patently sits alone outside for a bus to come.
The driver honks her horn and greats him with a warming smile.
“Are all of these toys for our orphanage?”
The toy collector regrettably nods.
“Things have been pretty rough but this will surly lift there sprits up.”
She confesses as she gently grabs a random box.
As she stacks them one by on into the now cluttered van his bear falls onto the pavement below.
Unable to pick it up he wrinkles his brow with great sadness.
Suddenly the passenger door opens revealing the face of a young girl and as she draws near she extends her hand and clutches the bear.
“Did you find a friend little Lou?”
His heart melts as she kisses the teddy gently then smiles.
The child coos softly.
The toy collector lives in the toys he collects, but the man lives forever in the bear the child now possesses.
Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012