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Life Grandmother Poems | Life Poems About Grandmother

These Life Grandmother poems are examples of Life poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Life Grandmother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.

See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back

home.



*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's 
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)


Details | Couplet | |

One in Four Women

Terror seizes you, and it isn't kind. 
 You try to go somewhere peaceful in your mind.
But the pain rips you right back to here and now.
 Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even saying "ow."

You try to be strong, but he tears from you, a scream.
 Oh God, please let this be a terrible, terrible dream.
I thought he was supposed to be a friend of mine?
 As the tears grow down my face like vine.
 
He tells me I wanted it, even though I screamed no.
 He says my attitude and outfit told him so.
In the same breath, he threatens me never to tell.
 If they ask why the tears, you better say you fell.

As I got out of the car he pulled me to him and hugged me tight.
 He kissed my forehead and said Don't worry you'll be all right.
Just remember, if you open your mouth, no one will believe a dirty whore.
 Now go inside before I take you for another ride and give you some more.

Into the house and straight into the shower.
 I was in there for what felt like hours and hours.
My grandmother knew right from the start.
 Please don't tell, it would break Daddy's heart.

Please, Grandma he's not worth Daddy going to jail.
 For my sake and his, you can never, ever tell.
She kept her promise and never uttered a word.
 At night, she told me, my cries she heard.

For six weeks I kept my secret and told not another soul.
 For six weeks I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole.
Not until I heard that he raped a fourteen year old girl.
 Knowing I could have prevented it, shattered my world.

I finally told my horror story to the cops and to my Dad.
 I don't think I'd ever seen him so violently mad.
Mike was arrested, but in jail he would not stay.
 He lived around the corner and we had to move away.

He got probation, but not for me, his word against mine.
 I was sixteen, of legal age to consent, so for me he'd get no time.
His punishment, probation for only a couple of years.
 Me and his other victim were left with our fears.

Would he find us and take revenge for what he said was a lie?
 Would my father hunt him down, and go to prison for a rapist to die?
He got away, pretty much scot-free for his deplorable crime.
 His victims were the ones who were serving the time.








This IS a true story, my story, but not my story alone. After 8 years and raping several
other women Mike was sentenced to 35 years in prison. As he pleaded his innocence, we were
all in some way vindicated. He never did a day for brutally raping me, NOT ONE DAMN DAY.
But he's doing plenty now. I hope he gets ALL that he deserves.


Details | Rhyme | |

Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.

1/1/2013


Details | Bio | |

My Origin

Where do I come from? Well we all come 
from somewhere. I was born in a small 
town, here in in good old U S of A. South 
to the border, by the Rio Grand. Mission 
Texas is the town's name.

My real parents came from Mexico. My
grandmother, it was said  - she came from 
Spain. My grandfather was indian. He fought 
in the Revolution. Both were on my mother's
side.

On my father's side, never knew too much, 
only that the grandmother died kind of 
young. The grandfather died years later, but
I never got to know them.

My father left my mom, when I was only three.
He never came back. My mother gave away my 
sisters, than later she gave me. She only kept
my brother, maybe she couldn't keep me.

I was raised with a nice lady and her husband.
I learned to call her mom. That title she had 
earned and my respect most of all. My parents
that raised me were poor, but made sure I had 
something to eat. My mother made my dresses 
so that I could go to school.

I learned to read and write and enjoyed school
very much, but I had to quit at fifteen to help my
parents out. Years later I went back and finished
my High School. 

I did not go to college , or mastered in any degree. 
I am what you might call self taught. For about thirty
years I worked with electronics and did my job well.
I gained respect from my bosses and high top
engineers.

My parents taught me good values that have helped 
me  through out life. I am not ashamed of my 
origin, of Mexican Heritage I came. I am what you
would call a TEX. MEX. and I live up to my name...

Just a little about myself. Hope
you enjoy it.

written by Lucilla M. Carrillo


Details | Free verse | |

EULOGY FOR THE ELDON GALLERY, WATERLOO


Once a place that sold cultivated pigment, the shop has become a catacomb,
Windows entombed by cardboard boxes, deprived of the merest hint of life and
I wonder if the gallery owner had intended a display of irony or focused rage. 

Gone, the watercolour weeping chartreuse, its soft backdrop of midnight blue,
And the oil on wood with knife strokes applied so thickly, it almost moved, 
Charcoal sketches of thunderstorms hitting the shores of Port Elgin, greys loud. 

Dark now the halls that had sheltered dreamscapes, art of all disciplines and sizes,
Squeezing themselves into corners and elbowing each other for my attention.
I ache for that one perfect dove that called to me from an azure sky, the one who 

knew my name, but I did not have the funds to take him home to my little cage.
He deserved a rectory or a view that would at least provide a kind of sanctuary.
Oh, how his wings had beat against pulse points and one of his feathers tickled

out a memory of a robin that had flown towards a cloudless sky, but instead had 
collided with a picture window; the contact point marred by a red, sickle shaped 
smear, and my grandmother had carefully wrapped the corpse in yesterday’s news.

I had trudged out to the garbage can, unseen, found the poor thing in its shroud, 
Snuck out to the garden and buried it amongst tall phlox and florid snap dragons,
I’d succumbed to tears, wrenched by a world where beauty is fragile and disposable.

Today people walk along the street, wearing blinders, holding devices that fail to
signal that something living and real slowly starved to death, atrophied, and I watch
a happy child point to a puddle, but her mother fails to see the large coin it holds.

I recall a portrait that had enraptured like a sun shower, reminiscent of light and rain, 
A girl traipsing waves, almost overtaken, her footsteps disappearing under foam…
And I silently apologize to those artists unmet, the ones who continue to meet panes. 







*Please click on the About my Poem link to see a picture of what inspired this poem... It has been closed for a while, but today, I walked past it and remembered the lovely art that I had once appreciated, yet was never able to afford. 


Details | Free verse | |

NELL


They called her Nell
Her parents    the brash    rugged 
transplanted Irishman
and the shy    gentle Cherokee lady
They called her Nell
for it was a good solid name
a proper name    an English name

They called her Nell
The people in her southern Illinois hometown
Not Injun    or half-breed
but respectfully Nell    Miss Nell
Said she was a right fine figure of a woman
with her ebony hair and dark bottomless eyes
Cheekbones towering over ruby red lips 

He called her Nell
The rough    unpretentious laborer
who won her heart and her hand
Called her the love of his life
Teased her for her quick temper
and her no-nonsense Southern Baptist way of living

They called her Nell
Neighbors with hands holding empty cups
waiting for a little sugar or butter
Waiting for a little kitchen conversation
Calm soothing words without barb or bite
which passed the lips of a woman unlike another

They called her Nell
The doctors in town respected her
for she was nursing when they 
were still in knee britches
and she never    ever let them forget it

They called her Nell
Coal miners    Hospital patients
with burned lungs and broken bones
waited to see her face each morning
beneath her starched white cap
Heard her no-nonsense stride moving 
through the wards 
Took comfort in her presence

They called her Nell
This diminutive lady who chased a little girl
through the house with a fly swatter
when she found me swinging on her four poster bed
But couldn’t bear to hit me when she caught me 
so she hugged me instead

They called her Nell
when she stood in her yard on a clear 
summer night and patiently taught me 
how to catch fireflies and put them in a jar 
with holes in the lid while hungry mosquitoes buzzed

They called her Nell
when she poured me ice cold root beer
from a glass jug and served my favorite
homemade vanilla ice cream    while she 
told the most wonderful stories of my ancestors

They called her Nell
when she dropped everything to fold me 
in her arms and rock my pain away
As her soft lips kissed my tears 
her voice whispered in my ear    assured me 
that I would survive     Told me to always remember 
what we cannot go through    we just go over or around   

They called her Nell
because that was her name
and she wasn’t to them what she was to me
She was Nanny 

She was my grandmother who loved with all her heart



Details | Free verse | |

GRANNY

On hearing your death
What creep in my head was
Akon's Pot of Gold
Its melody within heart
You have served your purpose
So Rest in Peace
Born to Love
But it enslaved and betrayed
And onwards you pressed
Your foils nurtured your old age
As strong as you were
Your battle on the thin line
You won hands down
I admire You
Last week I saw and greeted 
You were fit
What an awesome recovery
Indeed your Maker wiped your tears
But now it is finished
Well done
As a kid I run onto your bosom on visits
Then rained on me praises
But I lost contact
Next I saw you on life’s field of war
Then despised, not long
I grew wise to know
For with time all will grow
Was in turn and showered care
Hope you recognized
Thanks for your Blessings
My half seed of lineage
May God lay you to a Peaceful rest
Where Love will search to find you
Your foils cry
Swollen red are our fragile eyes
Thousand thorns within our hearts
Pain abounds here
May your Spirit comfort us
Smile down once again
Smile down once again
Memories well built would be well kept
Strong willed, Religious, Grateful 
Lord we are thankful
Yours forever
A Single Parent's sweat lay to Rest in Peace.

©Kofi Asokwa-Nkansah


Details | Bio | |

Simply Young

I want to be forever young
Just wish to live young

Lived a little too long
I need to understand

In order for me to understand
I need to live my young years

Live my younger years
Over and over and over again

This poem I write today
Is one pulled from my head

I decided to base my idea
On the bases of my life

I've always wanted to be a kid
I don't really want to grow up

Yes I want kids of my own
Yes I want a husband

I want a home
I want a life

Just not quite right now
I'd really like to live as a youngin' right now

I know I'm not ready
For the responsibility that comes with adulthood

I look to my mom for guidance
I talk to my grandmother for wisdom

Both have told me the same thing:
"Live your life as you. Don't bend for anyone else."

Their wisdom continues:
"You're only young once. Be happy and don't try to grow up too fast."

This is a story, in the form of a poem
I hope you enjoyed reading it
Because I know I enjoyed writing it.


Details | Narrative | |

Potawatomi's Beginning...

The story I have to tell- was told long ago to me, 
About the creation of the Potawatomi Nation; 
In the beginning the Creator made Anishabe, 
And the Creator told Anishabe to name all of his creations,
 Anishabe set out with a wolf, his companion, 
And he went around naming everything; 
From the mountains and the canyons, 
To the Summer and the Spring; 
He became lonely realizing, he alone had no mate,
 And as he traveled everywhere searching, 
He traveled towards the Great Lakes;
 And there he heard a woman singing, 
Her song was a thing of beauty, 
About the home she was making for them;
 Anishabe crossed the lake to meet her, finally, 
The daughter of the Firekeeper-And quite a gem 
Their’s was the first unity bond, It is where life came from; 
Of each other they were inordinately fond;
 Their union gave life to four sons,
 Each of their sons went a different way, 
The First son traveled North, it’s color is White, henceforth;  
Given the first gift of the Creator-sweet grass-braided in a bouquet, 
He married the daughter of the Spirit of the North; 
The second sun traveled East, into the rising sun, 
He learned that fire is the essence of life; 
He was given the second gift-herbs to speak with the One,
East is the color Yellow, East’s daughter became his wife; 
The third son traveled South, known as “The Way of The Woman”, 
The way of seeds and all that give life, the color of South is Red; 
He was given the gift of cedar-to purify and prepare food for his clan 
And to the daughter of the Spirit of the South he was wed.
 The last son traveled west, towards the mountain highlands, 
He learned that the setting sun represents the circle of life; 
Black is the color of West-Sage was the gift for his hands,
 Married to the Spirit of the West’s daughter, Black stands for strife. 
This is the story of the Creator, That my Grandmother told to me,
 How my culture was started, And what our banner means.

~I've been holding on to this a while-Hope you enjoy the beginning of my culture~

~3rd Place in the "Broad Horizons" Contest by Deborah Guzzi~


Details | Bio | |

How Lucky We Are

Been so lonely a long, long time
Cannot do it wrong, wrong time
So dazed and confused
That I feel slightly used

From some abuse I sustained long ago…  
This could have made me go very slow…
Not on your life, I go very fast…
I want to get there, Don’t want to be last…

I was beat like a man by the time I was 5
It is a wonder that I came out alive
My grandmother died at the hands of this man
It is a cold case file so what’s the plan

I could never do what was done to me
Wanting my children to be wild and free
Live your life freely for you will know
To open your eyes and watch the show

I lived a life that was not for the meek
Scared for my life every day of the week
Once it was known what happened to me
My mom made it so we could be free

She was scared for her life as well you know
Now none of that matters we were able to go
Holding a knife to his greasy throat
She escorted him out to the dirty road

How lucky we are to be free
I sure am happy to be me
My children have children that make me smile
Think I will go run the miracle mile


Details | Narrative | |

Baseball in Heaven

My grandfather and I had a special relationship.

When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore.  But, my family moved away from 
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my 
grandfather.  Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to 
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles.  I was the one grandchild who 
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.

Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when 
he was young.  In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make 
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or 
get married and raise a family.  As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by 
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that 
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove, 
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.

But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the 
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the 
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles.  As crummy as the Baltimore bums are 
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than 
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.

I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing.  Had he 
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a 
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much 
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.

When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once 
again strap on his spikes and don the leather.  Without a doubt, they must play baseball in 
heaven.  And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young 
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.

(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)


Details | Elegy | |

Grandma Wings

Grandma Wings
By Lawrence M Nunez

Dear Lord I pray,
That you give my grandma wings
Like the Angels in my dreams
That from heaven flies
To stand watch at night 
Over me as I sleep
That she too my angel may be
Tonight and forever

Let them be pretty O lord
as the lilies of the fields,
white as the morning clouds,
Light as the feather of a dove.
like the glistening snow
and shimmering sea
her wings will glow,
as she stand watch
night and day, every day
guarding me as I sleep and play.

I could see her now O Lord
the big old smile 
The kind and loving words
The twinkle in her eyes
Wings outstretch
whispering I love you darling, 
It will be okay 
For now I have my wings
To stand guard tonight as you sleep

Grandma I miss you so
I remember the talks 
And the  laughs 
Even the tears we shed
Both you and me
Mine out loud without a care
Yours in secret because you care
Thank you Lord for giving her wings
To stand guard tonight as I sleep

Lord I pray you give her rest
Peace and joy untold
No more sorrow no more pain
but beautiful wings
that she may from heaven fly
to stand watch over me tonight
as I cry myself to sleep
bidding her good-bye with a heavy heart
I say good bye grandma good bye


Details | Monoku | |

Grandma

Threaded memories, the smell of my grandmother seeps from the pillow


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A PART OF SOMETHING

God created hands for building things. Sometimes before you build something, you must first destroy something else.

Wildfires are never supposed to be put out. Their sole purpose is to burn the entire forest to the ground, transform living things to fertilizer, making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It is almost paradoxical, 
that there must be death before birth

My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection inside the pool of my best friends blood. An old student I used to tutor told me that I am the best brother she could have asked for
She said she will always love me
This was after I burned every bridge that traversed the gaps between us
Stared at her from across her desk
Told her that she will never be my sister. That our bloodlines will never match.
Our gene pools are just strangers that made the same wrong turn.
I spent so much time trying to find my way back that I never realized I was home in being lost I found something comfortable, without expectations. I only corrected myself after she spoke,
because I heard something familiar in her voice.
She sounded like family.

I have the scarred and wrinkled hands of a senior citizen
I’m only 22 years old
I once got my palm read
This gypsy woman told me that my lifeline should have been cut short when I hit 17.
That was a year ago.
What do gypsies know anyway
I have defied the odds my entire life.
Been broke down and built back up too many times to count
My fingernails chewed raw to the cuticle out of anxiety
I enjoy the taste of my own pain
Sometimes I use my own hands to destroy myself just to see who my real friends are who will build me back up when I can’t do it alone

My hands have a desire to learn how to cook, but I’m not that great.
So when I am alone,
I tend to be hungry, not just for food though.
I starve for someone to talk to
It never satiates, because it’s not you.
I know what it tastes like to completely give myself to someone.
My biggest fear is being abandoned.
When I look into your eyes, I am not afraid.
I need to cook you up a feast of myself, then feed it to you every day for the rest of our lives
Please tell me what I really taste like,
Be honest.

Years after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved into my aunt’s house.
Since I was 5, every time I speak to her she asks me:
“Spenser, did you thank God for waking you up today?”
I think to myself, I never did tell my eyes to open themselves. It just happened.
So I don’t know how to respond to her correctly.
I tell her that I love her, that I am writing a lot.
She tells me that she puts her hands together for me every night
Prays that I will get the job I want
I guess some prayers do get answered.
Sometimes two hands in the right position, matched with a conversation with God,
Can change things.
I even accidentally call that place home sometimes.

My dream is that my hands evolve into wolves, become part of a pack and work together with other hands to make a difference
Some days they will be the alpha male.
Full of confidence, at the head of the pack
Other days I need someone to show me the right way to go
Because if I’ve learned anything
It’s that I am not always right
I can not always be in control of everything
The only thing I have ever really wanted is to know
That my hands were truly
A part of something.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Grandma

I was your first born grandchild, the first grandchild to know you.
40 years of time passed before I was born.
You gave life to six children, built a home for your family to grow.
Your children embarked on their own life journeys.
They went in many directions, spread from one coast to another.
But always drawn back to that, Sugar Shack.
40 years passed. I was born.
I spent my time with you grandma, learning all the things little girls should.
I remember the music, oh the music!
You played your piano, and I was awed.
I have never forgotten sitting with you on your piano bench.
The calm, the music, the pages of music turning.
Your fingers floating over the piano keys like magic.
Nor have I forgotten the stories passed on, letting me learn my heritage.
You told me where I get my love of horses from. To follow my dream, to work at the racetrack,
Encouraging me to follow it through.
You knew what path I wanted to follow - thank you for believing.
I remember the years with a smile, with tears in my eyes.
 The laughter, summer vacations.
Those years will never be forgotten, but held close to my heart. 
Grandma, only 40 years has passed since I was born. 
I thank you for every one of those years!


Details | Narrative | |

Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.


Details | Epitaph | |

BABY

written 28th oct 2012

You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us 
  an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace  
The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen 
 hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived
For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd 

We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us 
 having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us
It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart
 Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart

God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start
 we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around
But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around
 just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us
 
We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us,
 although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never
You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever...
   the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild....
                                  "Angel" 2012


Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | I do not know? | |

WHO AM I BY NAME ALONE

written 10th Aug 2013



I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"

She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"


Details | Free verse | |

My name is Catastrophe

Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a 
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness. 
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to 
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.   
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Free verse | |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Free verse | |

MY SEVEN BLESSINGS

God bless little angels brought unto me,
Watch over them beneath heavens grace.
My first of seven blessings most precious gift,
Treasures hearts keepsakes.
Number one the oldest, my rocker baby,
Dancing away with musics sweet lullaby.
The lyrical light of brilliance’s, a shinning note,
That strums across grandma's heart strings.
The second child is a testament to patience,
No instructions came with this wonder
Or warning labels tattooed upon her backside.
But she has the eyes of an angel and lord knows,
She try's my beliefs but I'll never give up the fight .
I love my problem child just the same.
The third times the charms, she is that for sure,
With brown eyes and a kewpie doll with dark curls.
Our grand daughter bubbles, whom can light up the
Darkest moment with just a simple smile.
The fourth grace is he, full of strength and daring,
A future NFL first draft pick this is my little RJ,
Patton had his tank and believe you me, Me maw
Has hers.
Diamonds are the hardest stones known to man,
But this boy sparkles with a shine more valuable,
Then gold.
Fifth in line is wisdom and charm, explorations
Future astronaut.
With curiosities wondering eye, but ahead of
The pack in any game of life.
My youngest grand son Issac his name means,
Laughter and joy and in this it is so true.
Tiny but mighty is my little Bella,
With dark raven hair, she has her fathers eyes,
And mommy's brave spirit.
She'll take on the world someday.
And win by all hands clapping her on,
Me Maw's future Mrs. America.
Seven was born on grandma's birthday,
A special gift given unto me is my darling,
Trinity.
Who knows what the future will hold for thee,
But seven has always been my lucky number,
So sky's the limit with this the youngest blessing,
In my life.

1.  The blessings gift is music.
2. The second blessings gift mischief and curiosity.
3.  The third blessings gift beauty's sweet smile
4. The four blessings gift strength and endurance.
5.  The fifth blessings gift wisdom and charm. 
6.  The sixth blessings gift is a brave spirit.
7. The seventh blessings gift is lucks true fortune.
And when you add up all my many blessing,
What does a grandmother receive a full heart,
Hugs and kisses at bedtime.
Good night my little angels and sleep tight.
I'll re-sight my many blessings in my prayers, 
Tonight as I lay myself asleep and dream of thee.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN








Details | Free verse | |

the story of my life

When i was about 5 i was put in to a SRS. I was there tell i was 7 and when i got out i move to my grandma and grandpa. When i was 9 my older brother started to beet me up every day and all day long and then when the beating he was giving me stop working he started doing other thing to me. When i was 12 i losted my grandma and then my grandpa didn't want nothing to do with use and still don't. i took my brother *****tell i was 15 then started to beat on him. My brother put me in jail for a few year because if the *****he made me do now i am 21 and have losted and got back the girl that i love and care about her name is Holli Sczenski. Her family don't want use together so they are making her choose between them or me she dues not want to have to choose between use she loves use both and i know it and her family know it but there still doing it. On top of all that my own family is going throw somethings as while my mom is not doing vary good and we may or may not lost her in the next few years.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Couplet | |

Dear Rapunzel

It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.

It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.

It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.

Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.

Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.

They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.

Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.

Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.


Details | Free verse | |

Divine Mushroom of Immortality

Psilocybin psychotropica,
you are a gateway to immortality,
a gateway to angelic states of euphoria
spreading open the wings of our glands,
breaking the bondage of mind-ego,
pushing thoughts closer to God.

Ah yes,
flies lick the cap,
then they dance in drunkenness,
making them so much easier to crush.
Blast those dirty flies
and the plagues carried upon their tongues-
miniature horsemen
galloping forth from the saliva
of these vile, winged beasts.
-Thou shalt not kill-
But kill only those disgusting flies,
please, kill them all!
Yes, kill them all!

Everything else should live.
Even inanimate stones breathe,
just as trees 
can hear us passing by.
Atoms waver, pulse,
twisting all about,
until reality can be seen as a 
gigantic interconnected organism,
constantly moving and breathing.
Breathing.

Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer
showed his patch of magical mushrooms
to the rest of the gang,
sharing the secret of flight,
enabling dear Santa Claus 
to fly around the world,
spreading the joy of psilocybin psychotropica
with everyone else.
Oh, the wonders of Christmas!
Lights and sounds
warping,
morphing
into scents and colours.
Rascally little elves
causing havoc in the kitchen,
spiking the eggnog with spores-
and we grow tall,
we grow small,
we are having a ball,
jumping through mirrors,
flirting with Alice,
exchanging recipes of cookies, cakes and brownies,
visions of sugarplums dancing through our heads.

Never want to go back,
the rabbit hole is st r  e  t   c   h    i     n      g,
exit seems so far away
as angels fluff pillows
for our sleepy heads to rest upon.
We dream,
talk with the dead,
watch spirits enter wombs
at the point of conception,
so that Grandmother can be reborn again.
And again and again and again-
an infinite string of galactic spirituality
waiting inside of this manna,
eternal life found in the spores of the 
Divine Mushroom of Immortality.





*I do not advocate substance abuse,
instead I am describing a Shamanic vehicle of spirituality.
When ingesting magic mushrooms,
especially potent strains like Muscaria Angelica,
make sure to be around people who you trust
and stay away from artificial lighting and television....


Details | I do not know? | |

This is the TRUE Story of Six Sisters Part 3 The Guestbook

The Guestbook
I signed the guestbook, hoping that _____, Jenny’s mom would get my message and get in 
contact with me. In the mean time, every person who signed it, I got updates about.
Then, one Saturday, I got this e-mail saying someone had signed the guest book, so right 
away, I read it. It was someone named ________, from Ohio…and that she was Jenny’s 
biological sister, and she left a phone number. Now…I know this name…because my birth 
father’s mother had told me that name when I met her in January. So, I nervously picked up 
the telephone and dialed the number. Thank goodness the machine picked up, LOL…I said 
hello, my name is Melissa Powell, I am in Indiana. Jenny was my biological sister, by the 
same birth father, and I think that you and I may be sisters too. Give me a call when you 
can. Two hours later…the phone rang…it was ______…confirming we were indeed sisters! 
Then she dropped a bomb on me…I had another sister _____! Wow…I lost one sister 2 
weeks ago…and today, I find out I have two more sisters! What a blessing! So in the mean 
time, ____, _____ and I are getting to know each other, and our families. So we get to 
talking about possibly looking for other siblings because out birth grandmother has told us 
there are indeed more of us out there. So we look on Facebook with the names. ________ I 
wrote to about 20 _______ Even though when I saw her picture when I wrote her…I knew 
she was my sister…we could be identical twins! So a few weeks go by…then on April 3, I get 
home from Good Friday Church services and there is a e-mail from ______…Call me, I found 
_______… Not only did we find _______…we found _____!

So with the tragic death of our beautiful sister Jenny…it brought all of all us together!
Now we have the rest of our lives to be sisters and get to know one another. God works in 
mysterious ways, and we all believe that he brought us together using Jenny as our northern 
star. And there are even more of us out there! Current count…Six girls and we are told we 
may even have some brothers somewhere!




Details | Epic | |

Me

I understand the hearts of romantics,
The rapture of their words written on a blank piece of paper
Wrapped in pink ribbon to send to a lover
	 who only existed in the throes of imaginary adventure.
How the girl with the tattered spirit like a moth-infested closet
	Sprouted wings in a butterfly-like metamorphosis
Only to find a hole in the dusted wings that sent her sailing to the floor in a
frightening free-fall only followed by her teardrops.
How she dusted her knees and asked the teddy bear to kiss it better who only answered her
with the silent glint in his button eye.
How she patched herself up and continued flight.
How she broke her knees and heart in repetitiveness.   
	in a love unrequited.
I am the girl, I suffered, I mended.

The silent crisis deafening the city,
The boy with a glass pipe in his hand for an easy thrill
	lying in his own vomit across the street,
The grandmother weeping in the coldest room for hope and a time without need and addiction
	with a window seat to the neighboring event.

I am the boy that chases the dragon with a fearless anticipation,
Ignorant to the addiction that chews at my brain and teeth,
I scratch at the deposits in my arms and legs with a compulsive uneasiness
	to put on the sober face.
I fall on my knees in church,
Swear I believe in God and the Holy Ghost,
Pray to Jesus when it's unbearable,
Beg for the redemption of my fifteen year old soul because I know that my sins will reduce me
	to the burning pyre.

Adaptation, addiction abstinence, and absolution are all part of me,
I ask not of what the addict needs, for I become his heroin
	in his time of  relapse,
My cravings turn to pity for the men in withdrawal.

Beaming bright and beautiful,
My wings glow with the illumination that Mother graced me with long ago that I never
believed was
mine.

I am the warrior standing at the podium with words as my only ammo,
Facing my biggest fear.

Again the stares of inferiority.
Again the whispered thoughts against me.
Again the prejudice.

The knowledge overflows my being of terms I never analyzed completely,
An analysis of my inferiority to the people gazing at me with glazed eyes and polite smiles,
The understanding that wealth is the status quo as I stand in my old clothes and shoes,
I have nothing better to do than feel uplifted.

Again, the knowledge bubbles up in an outlet of laughter as it soars through my spirit
like a lighthouse's beam
	over the ocean.
They may be wealthy, but I am far richer.


Details | Quatrain | |

Grandma's Bench



Each day her world was getting smaller
But still to this bench she made her way
To enjoy the park, the pond, and the ducks
and watch young children that came to play

Her bench became a gathering place
Life stories told and babies kissed
They all enjoyed her wise company
Her sweet face will sorely be missed.

They still gather at that bench
And daily life goes on as before
But they still remember "grandma"
A lady they had come to adore...




Details | Prose | |

ANTIQUE GRANDMA

Antiques are defined by their unique beauty, like grandma's hands.  Yes, there old and wrinkled. But those hands can make the best pie and folded together they touch Heaven! Antiques are rare, like grandma. She can still outwork anybody but never brag. She is a walking encyclopedia. She's the most interesting (and opinionated) history teacher there ever was! Antiques have personal emotional connection, like grandma. My first memories as a boy were getting a bath from grandma.. in an old steel tub at a rustic cabin up in the woods of Idaho.  Rarely a day passes where she isn't on my mind.  She has modeled all the virtues that every religion says we are supposed to be.  

Antiques have other unique features, like grandma. She lives a simple, authentic life. Grandma was the one that told me, "Progress that improves things, but not people, is a trap!"  I was just a boy back then but that statement changed my life. Grandma taught me to chase love and wisdom and don't get hung up on society's fads. Life is in the journey.. It's a pic-nic by the lake, gazing into your lover's eyes for hours, butterfly kissing while slowly memorizing their beautiful face, being there on difficult days to wipe a tear from their eye. And a thousand more things just like it. I love you grandma.. You're in my heart forever! The greatest antique in the world is my grandma!

Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Contest Name: Antiques
Date: 4-19-14
Form: Prose


Details | Free verse | |

Haunted

On Memorial Day I am haunted and flooded with so much grief.
My Mother lies next to my Grandmother and they next to my Great Aunt.
My Fathers name is there, too, but blessedly he’s not there yet.
Such great memories are restored as I look at each stone.
Once again I’m a rambling child with no kids of my own.
I remember the safety they afforded me, and all the treats and their love.
All their little sacrifices they gave, when I was still too young to know.
Why did I chase after a kitten when Grandma was so close by my side?
A simple tug on her skirt and she would of hugged me and smiled with pride.
Why was I discovering butterflies, when my Great Aunt was close there too?
She made the best pies EVER from scratch while I played in another room.
Why did I take Mom for granted… when as a child she gave me so much?
What I wouldn’t give for her gentle touch… and another soothing hug…
And Grandpa lies by Grandma… he was always repairing something or by her side.
And now there are all my aunts, uncles, and cousins that are all scattered around. 
They made Christmas my favorite time as their talk and laughter rang out.
They’d laugh, talk, and enjoy each other’s company, as I’m sure now they do.
I can’t imagine them in any other way, than at my Grandma’s on those wonderful 
days.
We’d sit down to a holiday feast with everyone all around and it all seemed like play.
Were they then thinking of others that they knew from long ago?

As I walk around the graveyard picking out old friends, I remember their wistful 
looks…
They did the same each year, as they talked about the past even back then.
Perhaps its time my stone goes there, though I’ve a few more years to go.
That will help my children when it’s also my time to go…
And surprisingly it makes me feel I’m not leaving the older family alone.
It’s like a kiss, and a tug on a skirt to leave that something behind.
It’s a promise… they’ll be remembered until it too, is my time…
Until then I’ll bring my children and tell stories from long ago…
One day a year can’t be too much since it’s memories that I bestow. 
And they all simply add up to the life that I have known.


Details | Light Poetry | |

My dear grandmother

My dear grandmother

One nigth while I was sleeping
I got a sad telephonemessage

I got up fast
The tears just trundled down my cheeks

The message I got was that you had passed away
It happened so incredibly fast

I have cried for several months
All the tears for you
Hope that some of you still are here with me

Now, I have no grandmother to talk with
For your heart stopped
Why was it your turn to let the soul leave your body

Life needs to move on
The dead, they have to be honored
I will never be able to forget you
I let the memories be hidden


                 __
                /_/\/\
                \_\  /
                /_/  \
                \_\/\ \
                    \_\/

Dedicated to my dear grandmother (1935-2011) 


Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.


Details | Rhyme | |

Finding A Box Of Life

One late night, I fell asleep in my chair
I dreamed of finding a box with a treasure so rare.
In this dream was a soldier and a good one at that.
I saw his old suit and his old tattered hat.

He had tried to stay youthful, but old he must be.
He walked with a limp because of his bad knee.
In the dream I visited with him one day.
And he told me a story that put me in dismay.

He said, "Here's a box that I'm giving to you.
It has a great treasure, if only you knew.
It contains this old coin, as you can see it's so old.
But to me it's worth more than all the silver and gold.

For you can see in the middle is a great big dent.
And there was so much force, that's why it's so bent.
I was out on the battlefield one dark night you see.
When a bullet was fired and it came straight at me.

This coin I had placed round my neck, next to my heart,
Was a prayer from my mother, she had sent from the start.
The bullet hit the coin and knocked me to the ground.
So I thank the Lord for this treasure that I found.

This coin in the box saved my life on that day.
Now you take it, treasure it and go on your way."

Thank you grandmother for listening to the Lord one day.
And sending dad this precious coin, which in this box I'll lay!


Details | Prose | |

Soon

She has become
Like a thin Chinese tea cup
Placed upon a large rock
She has become… fragile
Afraid to go anywhere
Least she break

She sits outside
When the weather is clear
Reading the same book
She has read for many years
Painfully turning the pages
With crooked fingers

Occasionally
I see her smile
As the lines on her face
Seem to multiply ten fold
While she tries to remember
Why she is smiling

When the cooler weather
Dances around her
She wears a long soft scarf
Wrapped many times
Around her neck
To keep the cold away

Sometimes
She will ask me
"When will my friends
Be coming by?"
And I sit next to her
Hold her hand
And say to her
Soon Grandma… soon


Details | Rhyme | |

We Went to Grandma's House


We went to Grandma’s house the other day! And brought some gifts along the way! We enjoyed our time and our wonderful visit We’re glad we had time with her! We wouldn’t miss it! We took her out and did some shopping in town… There were some good buys waiting to be found! We had a chance to have dinner with her too! This was an opportunity we wanted to do! We had a chance to talk about the days of past. Our memories of her, is something that will last! We enjoyed our time with grandma! Yes we did! She always has something worthwhile to give! We thank the Lord for a special grandma like this! Our times together have been happy and bliss! Please take good care of her Lord, is our prayer! Keep her in your tender mercy and care! We look forward to the next time we spend together! She’ll always be our grandma! Today and forever! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Details | Free verse | |

Invisible

They
Are
Among us.
Not alien
But more
Like us than
You will ever know.
They are
Neighbors
Dying
Of
Disease
And 
Hate
And
Grief.
They live
Next door
Behind walls
Built
Not of stone
But of fear.
Hungry
Penniless
Alone.
They are
Stereotypes
Birthing
Children.
Ad dictions
Carving
Flesh from
Bones.
They are
Sold
Into
Slavery
Beaten
By
Other
People's
Philosophies.
They are
Invisible.
But not
To
Me.


Details | Bio | |

Great Grandmother

Sara Kind, compassionate, gentle, loving Great grandmother of Karter Who feels great love for Karter Great gran who feels care and concern Great gran who fears the future of earth Who would like to see peace and economic stability for whole world Residence of USA
Several have asked about Karter I was going to write this for Carol's contest but did not get it done.. Click on "About this Poem"


Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,
creed,
tradition.

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.


Details | Free verse | |

disillusioned

rocks in the rocking chair
with her granddaughter by her side,
she’s grown into an ambitious young woman,
she asks nana how it was
when she was young &
wondering if so many people back then
were so disillusioned
with the way that things were going
in their country---
grandma asks her to turn off the tv.,
grandma turns to her to say,
“when i was younger i had hope that
things were gonna change,
i stood in the streets with my friends &
family---
we fought against the police &
we all went to jail,
because we didn’t believe in the wars that
our country was waging,
we didn’t believe in the way that our 
country was treating its own citizens &
we didn’t feel that things would change
unless we ourselves did something…”

and then there was a pause &
her granddaughter smiled anxiously,
because she always looked up to her
nana for guidance, advice & wisdom---

but her grandmother didn’t say a thing 
after that---she just looked out the window
& kept rocking in her chair.
 


Details | I do not know? | |

REST IN PEACE MUM ANN BROWN 18 AUG 2011

MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me


Details | Free verse | |

Sincerely

Her letters came with regularity,
full of news and everyday ordinary things.
"I love your letters," she said.
"They're just like talking to you."

I wrote to my grandmother,
for all of her days. 
My missives spelled graduation,
my first job,
our hurry-up wedding,
your mission in Japan,
the move out west,
return to mid-country,
and the birth of each child-
everyday ordinary things.

I think she hovers over my shoulder
as I write to the grandchildren,
those chatty emails full of news
and everyday ordinary things.

No stamp required, 
	say what you want,
		        press send.

They'll read them, 
	         perhaps, 
		        and hit delete.


Details | Narrative | |

He Left These Here for You

Granddad saved change under the paper in his dresser drawer.
We never dared to look and see how much he had to share.
He saved it there with a purpose; to give when I was there.
For a nickel I would comb his hair; a quarter bought a shave.
He loved to give me money; I loved the way he cared.
A playful sort, he loved to laugh; he always teased and joked.
There was endless time to play with me; that’s how my granddad was.

My granddad grew a garden, the prettiest one in town.
I would help him plant the rows of corn.
Three seeds dropped in each hole that he made.
Row after row, together we worked our way down.
And when the work was completely done, it was time for fun!
A shave, hair comb, and a pedicure would make him fall asleep.
Grandma brought bright red polish to decorate his feet!

When he'd wake up, I’d sit on the floor, knowing what was next.
He would bring out coins from his dresser drawer
And laugh about his toes…  (A tradition as my grandmother knows.)
He was always amused while I counted all of my loot.  
He would tease and laugh and taunt.  To me, he was number one!
At age eighteen, while in the Army, the horrible message came.
Granddad had died from an allergy; life would never be the same.

I tried not to cry, like I promised him; I could not bear the pain.
He loved me so and I loved him.  I felt so alone.
How could I go through life and never hear his voice.
I must go on; we had talked of this; even now, he still is missed.
I didn't go home for many years; when I did…he wasn’t there.
Emptiness came over me, and an ocean full of tears.
Then, Grandma took me to his drawer… “He left these here for you.”

© July 9, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen 


Details | I do not know? | |

It Was Just

It was just the other day when you were born 
When your father cut the umbilical cord
when I heard your first cry
When I held you in my arms for the first time to feed you
When I heard your first burp
When I laid you on my chest to sing you to sleep
When I brushed your long brown curly hair
When I changed your first diaper
Time has past and memories have been formed to have me realize that time has flown by
You are about graduate high school
You have learned to keep positive friends
You have chosen to surrender your life to Christ 
You have joined the choir without me even asking if you wanted to
You have decided not be the average teenager but take the challenge of studying Chinese
You have decided to keep your virginity even though it's not the popular thing to do
watching all of these transitions before my eyes leaves me with gratification that GOD saw fit for me to experience all of these wonderful stages of your life and to that I say THANK YOU GOD may you see favor upon me for me to see this wonderful gift obtain a carrier that she desires, see her walk down the isle with a God fearing man and allow me to become a grandmother with your blessings IF IT IS YOUR WILL
 


Details | I do not know? | |

REST IN PEACE MUM ANN BROWN 18 AUG 2011

MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me


Details | Couplet | |

ROCKING ALONE IN HER ROCKING CHAIR

I SAW AN OLD MOTHER WITH SILVERY HAIR
SHE SEEMED SO NEGLECTED BY THOSE WHO SHOULD CARE,
HER HANDS WERE ALL CALLOUSED AND WRINKLED AND OLD
A LIFE OF HARD WORK, WERE THE STORY THEY TOLD,
AND I THOUGHT OF AN ANGEL, AS I SAW HER SIT THERE
ROCKING ALONE IN HER OLD ROCKING CHAIR

BLESS HER OLD HEART-DO YOU THINK SHE'D COMPLAIN
THAT HER LIFE HAD BEEN BITTER,SHE WOULD LIVE IT AGAIN
AND  CARRY THE CROSS THAT'S MORE THAN HER SHARE
ROCKING ALONE IN AN OLD ROCKING CHAIR
IT WOULDN'T TAKE MUCH TO GLADDEN HER HEART
JUST SOME REMEMBRANCE ON SOMEBODY'S PART
A LITTLE WOULD BRIGHTEN HER EMPTY LIFE THERE
JUST ROCKING ALONE IN HER OLD ROCKING CHAIR

I KNOW SOME YOUNGSTER IN AN ORPHAN'S HOME
WOULD THANK THEIR OWN HEAVEN IF SHE WERE THEIR OWN
THEY NEVER WOULD BE WILLING TO LET HER SIT THERE
JUST ROCKING ALONE IN HER OLD ROCKING CHAIR

I LOOKED AT HER- AND I THOUGHT - "  WHAT A SHAME"
THE LOVED ONES THAT FORGOT HER, SHE LOVES JUST THE SAME
AND I THINK OF AN ANGEL AS I SEE HER SIT THERE
ROCKING ALONE IN HER OLD ROCKING CHAIR



Written By My Grandmother Mamie Rachel Sterling/Sinner/Earl 1950


Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Memories

Where do memories that are forgotten go?
It’s as if the events never even took place.
She searches for clues about a life long passed,
with confusion painted on her face.

She is visited each day by a parade of strangers;
never remembering any one of us.
If you don’t recognize the people you lived with,
how can you know who to love and trust?

Once she was a loving mother,
doting grandmother and faithful wife;
now each day is a struggle for her
and everyone else once part of her life.

The memories were supposed to be her comfort;
those she cherished enough to save.
It is sad to realize they are now long gone
and won’t accompany her to the grave.


Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | Free verse | |

Famous

When I was a little girl,
my only wish, was that 
someday, I would be famous.

My grandmother always said,
"you can be anything you want to be,"
and I believed her, Maybe, I did not believe in me.


Details | Narrative | |

Today Is September 1 2007

On this day 16 years ago a beautiful baby girl was born.
As I cried they took her away.
My grandmother watching as if nothing were wrong.
Photos came for a brief moment then stopped
She was gone never to be herd from or seen.
It seemed as if she just vanished.
The agencies said her new family had moved.
No forwarding address to be found.
They apologize for the inconvenience.
Trying to convince me not to give up hope.
Hope what is this, something I find hard to have.
Years have come and gone and not a word.
The last photo I reserved she must have been 3 or 4 years old.
My search it still continues today, 
but not a trace of her or her family do I see.
On this the anniversary of her birth
 I still cry for the loss of my baby girl I bore so long ago.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tater Sack Annie

On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means."

Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch


Details | Rhyme | |

Grandma's Becoming A Republican

Grandma’s Becoming A Republican!

There was something that I was able to hear…
Grandma is going to be a Republican this year!

I remember her talking of the great depression.
Many years that created a lot of tension!

I remember her talking of days gone past.
Wondering how much longer
 our country would last.

I remember her talking of doing many things.
And has experienced 
what life daily brings!

Because of how things have
 been so dramatic.
She decided long ago to be democratic!

Beyond all of the politics and chatter…
She loves God!  And that’s what matters!

We love her dearly!  And it’s been decided…
Everything she needs…  
God has provided!

We congratulate you grandma with your choice!
We say “we love you!” 
With one heart and voice!

Our prayers are with the choice grandma’s givin!!
May God bless her! Each day she’s livin’!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes its hard not to wonder

Sometimes its hard not to wonder what life your child might lead
 youve taught them everything they know but it was there choice to listen.
 It broke your heart when there was a problem they had to deal with alone or they didnt ask you for help anymore to make chocolate chip cookies 
you feel useless as a parent when your kid doesnt need you
 and sometimes its hard not to wonder what life your kid might lead 
a simple thought that even the best parents ponder is will they be good or bad 
will they help you at the grocery store
 or kick and scream on the floor in front of prejudice shoppers 
will they be successful or counterproductive 
will you wave at them when your ordering your hamburger at mcdonalds 
or will they be the ones saying we found you a new kidney 
will you be a grandfather or grandmother someday watching your grandchildren do the cutest little things
 or will your child even produce kids at all. Will they be sick as we know all children do 
but will they be really sick something that doesnt just require
 hot stew and cough syrup to get better trust youve taught them
 well they know all they know because of you and greater forces at 
play and because of that theyll be okay 


Details | I do not know? | |

hurt

i was just a small girl, when you hurt my  world.
you hurt me for so many days.
days turn into weeks
now i'm left defensive less and weak.
now I've got this big secret on my shoulder.
who can i trust because everyone to busy to notice's hurting me.
what you stole was priceless.
in every one eye sight he hurts me every night.
blind by his kindness.
force to live in hell, my place of home.
faking is so hard, could barely stand too young to make it on my own.
the blood in my underwear, the pain in my eyes; he didn't care.
so young i had to grow up, be strong and stand in the sight of fear.
trap between evil and good.
do other girls go through this? or is this just in my neighborhood.
my hurt and pain how could a little girl take in so much.
i yearn for my mother touch, my father strong hands, my sisters to understand,
my brother to protect me, my cousins to never neglect me, my aunts advice,
my uncles meanest, my best friend hug, my Neice smile, my grandmother 
confront. 
caught  up in sorrow, confuse and daze in my mind  
with my pain i can't go backwards 
yet now i grown and its over and done ,now i leave my past behind and walk 
forward. 
was lost now i'm found
like Maya Angelo i rise! i can to stand on my own ground.
in my soul i forgive but i cant forget, the heartache forever lives inside.
my past i bury and forever hide


Details | Blank verse | |

She Said








She Said
By Spidey Williams

She gave me a kiss followed by a long hug
With the words “Never will I betray your love”
I’m here with you to the very end 
As your grandmother and mother’s best-friend
I know you are scared to trust 
But I understand you’re not much different then us
The longer we live the more we learn
The more we embrace love the more we get burned
The more we refrain from love the more we cry
The more we ignore love the more we lie
Life is what we make it I was always taught
So what life have we made for each other and how much did it cost
Were we over charged or did we fail to bargain for what we bought
Did we buy at first glance?
Or knowingly did we take that chance 
Thinking we could sell it back at a higher price
Not realizing few people would actually want our life
Yet we live life like there’s no tomorrow
Then justify all of our sorrows
Then we act surprise when tomorrow comes and goes
When seasons changes and we finally reap what we have sewed
Realizing today is the aftermath of yesterday and tomorrow is the direct result of 
today
Yet when do we now have time to pray 
Or should I say 
When will we take time to say okay?
I am only me
But I can be more than me
If only I accept the now for now and worry later later
Than maybe life wouldn’t seem that bad now later

I went to interrupt her and to voice my concerns
When she placed one finger on my mouth then
She said,
You said the longer we live the more we learn
The more you refrain from loving the more pain burns
The more we embrace love the more we cry
The more we ignore love the more we lie
Life is what it appears to be
Even in the time of misery 
Life isn’t really mystery 
It is a puzzle with all the necessary pieces of life
You have everything you need you just have to fit them right
  She said!


Details | Rondeau | |

where is caylee rondolet

Where is Caylee?
A little girl with smiling eyes
Where is Caylee?
No one’s seen her around lately
But her mother swears she’s alright
Now Grandma’s nose smells homicide
Where is Caylee?


(*this is supposed to capture the moment in time before they found her body --. for those of you who don't know the story, Caylee disappeard and her mother Casey Anthony told lie after lie about where she was. Caylee's grandmother got suspicious when she smelled the scent of a dead body coming from Casey's trunk. people and police searched for the little girl and eventually found her body buried in a trash bag, duct-taped. Casey just went to trial for it and was acquitted of the murder, much to the dismay of the general public.)


7/25/11

for Dr. Ram's contest


Details | Free verse | |

Why is the rain blue

	

    I shall try to explain,

    but the world is not logical.

    the bank notes are old and crinkling.

    your face appears like it's own negative

    the wind glows and the sun howls.

    why is the rain blue?

    i wanted a new weapon but the rainbow was

    too long,i need something small and portable,

    like a pen i once had.

    just a pencil and paper will be fine,

    but please look round.

    we're all related in the DNA

    but the fighting goes on, for what?

    does it matter my great grandfather was a Viking

    who killed when necessary

    or my grandmother sang in Gaelic

    and swooned over dead children?

    i can't see but i hear their voices murmur.

    a blue and a brown will go together

    like Harris tweed.

    shall i give you some needles to patch yourself

    before it's too late?

    i have long threads and connections for you,

    if you will listen.

    you don't need the A to Z of London

    in this world

    it's not relevant any more

    to know exactly where you are,

    just use the finger tips to feel the cave walls.

    do we know whether to go back or forward

    or even upside down?

    trust the sense of bones and nerves

    and the sea in our veins

    linking us all

    into a human whole.


Details | ABC | |

Dear Grandma

Theres no one in this world who can compare to you or can even come close
Your the best grandmother anyone could ever ask for i love you most
I know I dont always show you how much you mean to me
Im sorry for all the times I was a brat and how I would be
No matter what I say without you I wouldnt have anything and you mean more to me than you know
Im sorry from the bottom of my heart and the good I will try to show
To you Grandma I wrote this for you with all my love
Everyday your in my heart and in my head your always thought of


Details | Narrative | |

take me from this misery

* this poem has been inspired by Breaking Benjamin's Dear Agony....*
* and was written in memory of my grandmother Jeanne Gula *

My name is Jeanne Gula, today i found out that i have cancer.
Its in a tumor, that's very painful, its very rare, its 3 cancers into 1
they already took it out once... and it came back.
The doctor said it was to late to take it out again.
Its not the perfect end to my life, but its all i can have..
I don't really know how much more time i have.
I used to be able to walk by myself, with out help.
I can't believe this happened to me... of all people.
It's be coming torture, they called in hospices.
This cant be good...
I'm in my own home, slowly dieing...
I really don't want to leave, I will leave so many loved ones behind..
So I think i will stay a little longer...
Its January, i now can't do anything by myself, i have to rely on family to help with
everything, my organs are starting to slowly shut down, its very painful to go through.
but my daughters birthday is coming soon... I'm not going to leave now... i don't want her
to be sad, on such a happy day.
I can't hold on much longer.
I'm now out of this misery, its feb. 2nd, and I'm finally free.
Free, of all this pain, and I'm healthy again, I can walk, with out hanging on to anything
or anyone, I can finally be independent again...
now no one cry for me, because i lived a full long life, and no longer in pain..
I love you all.
Love Grammy


Details | I do not know? | |

Fallen Angel

She watched over me everyday and night she always knew what to say when tears 
filled my eyes.
She taught me how to believe, live, love myself, and be strong she taught me what 
a good heart will get you in the long run.
She held my hand even when I wasn’t afraid she told me I was beautiful everyday.
She accepted me for who I was and not what she wanted me: to be she told me the 
best motivation will come from within me.
 She told me this little secret that help me get through life and till this day I never 
ask her why.
She told me “baby you have to smile sometimes to hide your pain your only regret 
will be to look down on yourself because others do, love yourself before you love 
the next and stay away from negative people.”
She was always talking about angels and how they can come in different disguise I 
never question her or attempt to ask her why.
As I grew older I ask for an angel but I never knew that my whole life an angel lived 
with me and that’s when God called her to her final sleep.
“Father could I have my angel back?” I wept one night.
And he came to me in disguise.
I ask my grandmother one night “will Mommy ever come back to say goodbye?”
“She’s here by spirit not body baby and goodbye she will never say because she still 
lives on with us till this day.”
I could never understand why I couldn’t see my fallen angel before me.
“Sometimes you have to small baby to hide your pain” I could hear my great 
grandmother say so I smile like it was my last day.
Still yet I fail to believe that my fallen angel has left this world without saying 
goodbye to me.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Miss You

Grandmother I miss you, the cool times we had,
The memories that I still have are making me so sad.
It's all good though because I know that you're in a better place,
The one that I'm in now is filled with so much hate.
Wars over religion, grandmother I wish I was with you
and wisper slowly in your ear I miss you.


Details | Narrative | |

Gratitude

Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage

The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered

Swimming around the ocean deep 
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper

At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty

In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat

A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high

Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through

Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret

No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy

Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin

Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife


(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg.  Then circled and 
grabbed her left leg.  The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into 
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off.  She was only attended by a nurse who 
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do.  She was 20 hours away 
from the nearest doctor.  She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to 
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg.     The story about the shark caught in 
a fisherman's net was really not true.  The grandmother here was a true story.)


Details | Rhyme | |

My Strength Renewed, My Rock

On the day of July nine 
In the year of ninety and six. 
Her heart was so pure and so fine 
But too weak for the surgeon to fix. 
Her eyes still shown bright as day 
But her frail body had wasted away 
Her smile as warm as the love 
That she gave through Jesus above 
She knew she would not pull through 
But not one moment of sadness or blue 
Did she cast to her loved ones there 
Who waited and prayed for her care 
The Day was the twelfth of July 
The hours ticked endlessly by 
Many friends and family too 
People I never knew 
Came to say their farewells 
To a sister who with Jesus now sails 
On a peaceful and gentle tide 
To ever abide at his side 
As the service came to a close 
And the time was as everyone knows 
To cover her body with earth 
Though her spirit had now a new birth 
From out of the crowd stepped a child 
Who's heart like her grandmother's  was mild 
She picked up a shovel and prayed 
As everyone stood there dismayed 
Some tried to keep her from her task 
She looked to her Grandpa with eyes that ask 
He said to those who had tried 
To stop this child at the side 
Of her grandmother's still open grave 
With shovel in hand and heart so brave 
Let her be was his reply 
She's strong enough I won't deny 
She then began her chosen task 
Permitted to do what her heart had ask 
Shovel by shovel and tear by tear 
Her respect paid true to a lady so dear 
At the tender young age of only ten
This little girl whose life has been 
Directed and sculpted by the events of that day 
And by the grandmother who taught her to pray 
Just ten precious years she shared with her here 
But forever in her heart her grandmother is near 
I am the mother of this brave little child 
And never has any heart been so mild 
The day was the twelfth of July 
And to my Mother I said good bye 
A new strength was shown to me that day 
In the child I had birthed and taught to play 
Grandmother's shoes are not easy to fill 
But with a heart of gold and the strength and will 
She to this day has been my best friend 
In absence of Mother my rock to the end 
Now twelve years later a woman full grown 
No longer here with me, elsewhere on her own 
No matter the distance in miles or in time 
She still fills the shoes of that Mother so fine 
And knowing her task will never be done 
She looks to the Heaven's, The Father, The Son 
But also she looks for a glimpse now and then 
From the Grandmother she knows will hold her again


Details | Free verse | |

For Molly Powell

I  see you South Carolina’s  motherless child….
The chains of slavery set you free…
You are my history book and the link to my pit less soul…
Love began with you Mississippi midwife…..

Smells of Sage and Catnip, fried green tomatoes and pot liquor…
Your veiny swollen hand healed the sick and brought in new life….
Missy Anne played for your time without a lamenting thought your sister you chose ….
With loving respect I see you gazing back at me on Murdear’s bedroom wall…
Your picture yellow and cracked yet fresh with the dawn….

As your soft brown eyes and pomaded hair blew your aura into the busy confusion 
of my present…
I wish for you….
I long for you…though you have transcended poverty, inadequacies, and time…
You are the balm of ancestral roots…
My darkest love is your eternal strength…
Your great gift of strength challenged me to be….  


Details | Rhyme | |

Fragments of Design

Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces,
Makes each one of us who we are, and do become,
Each passing moment joins us and then releases.
Each passing human secures a piece and then some.

We are and will be the essence of everyone we meet.
I remember the smell, his words, my grandfather left for me.
I recall the wisdom my grandmother shared non-discreet.
Scents of her baking and cooking Sunday dinner for three,

These and so many more are embedded for natural recall.
Never searched for in your mind, etchings of time gone by,
Fragments of normal design, remembered forever after all.
They may deliver happiness, or create mourning or a sigh.

For every person you meet you take a part of their spirit.
Fragments of their emotions stick with you for at least a while.
Along with they acquire fragments from your little tidbit.
These fragments that we apportion make life so versatile.


written by
Cecil Hickman

Date written: 06-22-2011

written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~  
Contest Name All The Little Pieces 


Details | I do not know? | |

Grandma's old ring

Grandma's old ring

Everyday grandma put on
A diamond ring
With words engraved 
On the back.

I never got a chance to see these words
For they were always hidden.

I built up courage 
To ask my beloved grandmother about this beautiful ring,
Her crystal eyes filled with tears
As a knot tied in my stomach,
"This ring was given to me by your grandfather,
My husband,
Before he was killed in war.
I've kept it for many years as a memory."

She took this jewel off her frail hand
And with a swift motion 
Set it down on a table.

Crying tears of agony
She rest her head 
On my shoulder.


Details | Pastoral | |

Bird Songs

I wake to the songs of the birds
I hear them calling my name
I know their comings and their goings
Just as they know mine.

I have woken to the songs of the birds
They know me as I know them.
Season after season
My age has kept the count.

Generational eternity
The going's on of time...
I know these birds
Just as my grandmother before me knew hers

And hers before her knew theirs
And so on, and so forth
Ongoing forever
Forever and ever throughout time.

Repeating, always repeating
Just as a repeating decimal would
Always and forever repeating
with no ending ever in sight.

 

(January 22, 2011  Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved


Details | Lyric | |

Old Wise-Tales

Somedays I think back to my 
Grandmother, my mother,
My daddy and all the things 
I so many times heard them say.

I can recall them as tho I heard them
Again on yestersday.
They were always telling us children
Things to do to help us become
Matured adults.

They tried to keep us healthier
So we would live as long as we should
I remember so often
My grandmother saying
Keep heat in your body
And don't get chilled.
Put something around your neck
And something on your head.

I remember daddy warming our shoes
In frount of the big gas heater
As we got ready for school.

He knew our feet would get cold on the bus
For there wasn't heat to accommodate us back then
And the warmth would remain in our shoes
As least part of the way to the school.
 
Mother would always correct us
For she was that kind
Daddy would tell her 
Keep those girls in line.

We had meals together
That was the house rule
You ate at the table
Like your were suppose to do.

You didn't back talk
And carry a rude nature
Or you had a sore spot
Right where mother placed it.

Oh if only I could go back then
And just enjoy the whole thing 
All over again.

Tho tempting it would be
I wouldn't want to stay there 
For I have to tell these wise-tales
To my son's children.
They will have to know them
So they can tell them 
To their children's children.


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to Audrey

Glamorous, fun and full of life
Always an interesting and loyal wife
Around the village she is known
For living life in her own particular tone

For her family she does prepare
Many a feast beyond compare
For the animals so oft alone
She has given much love, shelter and even her home

Come Christmas time the house is all a glitter
As Audrey runs around doing the annual jitter
Smiling from within is this special being
Generous, giving and all seeing
Her energy would seem to overflow
Never one to leave others low
This is my grandmother The Great Grandy
Whose life runs circles around those less than 80!

To my life you have brought
Something which can never be taught
You gave yourself, you made me smile
As I saw you go the extra mile
Within my thoughts I hold you dear
And in that way you are always near
I close my eyes and picture your face
And know that time cannot displace
The essence of the inner you
That in my life now follows through

Thank you for always being such a dear
Your effect on my life is more than clear


Details | I do not know? | |

Still at This Time---Mystery

As I went to my sons school
I entered into to go speak 
with one of his teachers 
as I had checked in
and went along the hall
to where my son teacher was
as I done so....

As a woman appoached me
then she spoke and told me to stop... 
Stop right there... 
Startled me...
As I stopped I turned around
Then she said... Young lady 
Where are you to be???
You are skipping Class...
You need to come with me...
Right Now!!!

I smiled and then said...
I am sorry but you have mistaken me
I am actually a parent 
I am here to see my son and his teacher

She then looked at me...
and said... as laughing in the air..
she said... that is a good one..
Now... Come with me..
I am taking you to the Principles office

I thought and then said..
oh... no your not...
Then she said... Oh...Yes I am..
then she called on her radio..
then some others.. men came
Then she said... 
Please Escort this young woman to Principles office

I could not believe my eyes...
I then pulled out my ID...
But she said... She still didn't believe me...
For tis I must have made the ID
Very Tricky...

So we all went to the Principles office
There I had a Very hard time
Proving I was not a Teen...
I had to get my son out of Class
to verify who I was...
As well again displaying my ID..

I can not believe...
as Still in this time
is the same... 
I no longer go to my sons school
Unless I have an apt.... 

As many say... I look so young..
I not know why... 
my looks have not changed
but I myself... am grown
I am not that old 
But nor am I that young

As I always must explain...
I am not a Teenager...
I am an adult
I am a mother
I am maybe what tis be
a young grandmother 
I am a Woman... of Christ...

God has His Reasons
Why... I still be looking young
As many state a Teenager... 
Even in the Schools 
of my daughters and son

As many of my friends 
ask me... what tis my secret
how do I stay looking so young
Tis is crazy... for tis 
as I say... a mystery

But tis I must say... tis quite embarressing
for me and my children..

As God's Wills so shall be
but tis a True mystery to me....
For way I see.. tis be
As With God... is the Fountian of Youth

Come to Jesus...
For With God.. All things are possible


Details | Free verse | |

Mi Abuelita <---> ( My Grandmother)

I see your smile within my mother
I hear your laughter in my own 
I miss you every waking moment
The first granmother I had
And the first grandmother that died
I love you Francisca but I never got to tell you that
I know you look down on me from Heaven because that is your new home
I hope I can be some one that you will be proud of
I love you very much for the beautiful person on the inside and outside that u were
I know our family struggled but you were always there to help us
My mother misses you so dearly but she lives in your wonderful memory
Mi Abuelita you are my true grandmother
You loved my brothers and I before you knew us and you still do
So this is for you my Grandmother you who smile down at us each and every day
I apoligize for the wrong my aunts and grandpa did you but they were so confused
I love you forever and always Mi Abuelit en el Cielo ( My grandmother up in Heaven)
One day we will be together again you and our family.....


Details | Bio | |

Karma

The muslims say assalaam alaikum
The jews say shalom
But there isn't any peace in the home
My grandmother just called the police on the neighbors across the street cause 
they don't get along
She thinks they are selling that "cane"
And since they moved in, the neighborhood hasn't been the same
When you angry with life you need someone to blame
And when you hurt in life you want anesthesia for the pain
When bad days turn to months and then turn to years
Sometimes you are crying inside and no body sees the tears
So much is going on people don't see
But beyond that I got something I to teach 
About whatever you sow "that" you will truly reap
Now I know I ain't talkin to farmers but I know y'all some people that know about
Karma
Like when my boi Matt didn't pay his tithes and his car wouldn't start up
And He had to start catching that marta
He thought he was smarta
But God proved to be smarta
If you play hard with Him 
He'll play harder
And if you got a seed, a little boi or daughter 
Make sure you tell'em you love'em and give'em that water
Man! We need some fathers 
But ain't no body fathering fathers
So we got a generation thats caught up
In retail and tearing the mall up
And little girls growing up looking for ballers
The fertilizer of pop-culture and the hood is mass producing a generation of 
Shoulds and coulds
Should be better, They could be better 
If they would pursue character than that cheddar
But it starts in the home and the home starts in us
If we can't confide in our parents then who can we trust
Train a child,raise a child in the way they should go 
And when they're old they'll be sure not to depart
Because of that seed you placed in they're heart
Plant a seed in your seed
And watch the fruit 
Whatever is placed in them is what they'll produce


Details | Light Poetry | |

Haystack

Been looking for love
And I know it’s very near  
But every time I find it
It always seems to disappear

Maybe I don’t know what
It is really I’m searching for
What if I had it already?
And let it walk out the door

I feel so lost in this world
With a monkey on my back
Finding some one to love
Is like a needle in a haystack

Though I found some one
But I was so wrong about that
She made it crystal clear 
When she hit me slap

So I said ok no problem
Just another notch on my knife
Another pair of high heels 
Stepping all over my life

Went down the road too far
And I can’t make my way back
 Just left wondering lost
 Like a needle in a haystack

Why do we hurt our self? 
For those who are not worth it
If my grandmother was alive
 Would say stop being so stupid

My Grandmother was very smart
It’s like she can see the future
If she says that girl is trouble
Bet your dollar it ends in disaster

So from today I’m done
 Stop looking for love completely
If a girl wants to give me her love
She has to come to me

We know it’s not going to happen
So why give my self a heart attack
When it’s clear for me to see
I’m just like needle in a haystack


Details | I do not know? | |

My Grandmother

You never caught this person frowning, because the thought of life made her smile. This
person made an impact on my life in many ways, from being a great person and just knowing
she always cared. Life throws obsticals at you, but she always seemed to know how to fix
them to where they didn't get in her way. No matter how much pain she was in, she seemed
to always have that big smile on her face to light up the room. My grandmother will always
be my heart, because she's an amazing person I think everyone should meet. But no one can
have her, because I need my heart to live.


Details | Free verse | |

Babylon

my uncle was married
before he met her
sure it was to his first cousin

My brother was trying to help her
she cried for days about being raped

My grandmother gave her a job
and a place to stay

Friends with benefits
to my uncle and brother
family upset
not realising she is a con artist

My brother and Uncle
kindling a family feud
over a woman who conned my grandma
my brother and then my uncle

I live in the same building as her
after my brother lost his head
and i don't blame him
evicted from a whole village
leaving me stuck here, trapped

she walks into a room
the men bend over backwards
I try to tell her to stop wasting men's time
for their money
lieing about love is a dangerous game
men get upset when they have been conned through sex
when they could have spent that time
with someone genuine

The village in unrest
busy trying to justify her for being the victom she claims to be
In this situation at no fault of my own
I just sit here and wait for her to make the same mistakes
so it will be clear to them what the truth is when i tell them all

she conned my grandma
lied about love to my brother
split up my aunt and uncle
and now shes in a position of power over what people here think of me

Not for long though
the truth will rise
They will all know soon
the black and white of her inbetween the lines
She is babylon to me
a headless beast with breasts

apparently no oone thinks of the situation through my eyes
just easier to use babylon for sex


Details | Free verse | |

Step inside my head

The instructor said:
Right a poem expressing yourself
using Langston Hughes’ first poem 
as your model.

When my mom had me it was just me and her. 
We went through hard times yet she never let our 
problems effect me. Now that I have grown up
I see things differently. I can understand when there is 
a problem and know when things aren’t right.

Now I’m just looking for my chance to shine. I am preparing
to see the world through my own eyes. And it is hard. But I 
get through. Most kids my age are academically preparing themself 
for their future. They go to school and they learn but me I am creating 
mine.  My voice is my instrument and as long as I have it I plan to use it. 
My passion is singing and my heart is in performing but my money always
gets spent on shopping.

Yes I am a women and I was created to be of a helpmate to my spouse
but that doesn't mean that I am not human. Though I may have breast and
my hips may make the shape of my body different doesn't make you 
suprerior. I have a mind and I am an individual. I can think and 
make decision for myself, all while taking care of all responsibilty. 
I am your mother and your grandmother I was responsible for your up bringing.
Don't belittle me because of my sex!


Details | Rhyme | |

What Is A Mother?

Mothers stay up late when
Their kids can’t sleep..
A mother’s affection
Will always run deep.
 
A mother silently watches
Her child asleep in their bed.
She looks back on her life before she
Was a mother and her soul was dead.
 
How could she have been so lucky
To get this precious angel?
Knowing that if anyone hurts her baby
They are sure to be mangled.
 
A mother’s heart swells with pride 
As her baby takes her first step.
When a child says “ I love you Mommy”,"
It was so emotional she wept.
 
To know that she is a parent 
Is her greatest title.
Hoping that her child will be  
Someone that others will idol.
 
A mother caresses her child’s 
Face when she has been crying.
A mother comforts her child
When her grandmother is dying.
 
A mother hopes she’ll be
As great as her own mother.
She hopes she won’t fail
And be like the others.
 
A mother protects her child when she  
Caught a tennis ball with her face.
And beating her step-son
Was definitely not a waste.
 
A mother sneaks down a phone when 
Her child is unjustly grounded.  
A mother makes damn sure when her
Husband insults her daughter he is fiercely pounded.
 
A mother looks over her mom 
Perming her child’s hair late at night.
She pretends she doesn’t see her 
Hiding so there won’t be a fight.
 
A mother comes to her child’s aid in her
Time of need when her own child is sick.
A mother cries when her father dies at the  
Same time and she is forced to pick.
 
Does she go home and bury her father?
Or does she stay and comfort her child?
The fact that she’s put in this position
Is nothing short of wild.
 
A mother lets her child and her best friend
Plus their kids move back home.
Living eight hours away while her grandson  
Is sick, she might as well have lived in Rome.

A mother comes to visit her sick
Grandson after a hard day’s work.
A mother comforts her daughter
When stress and chaos lurks.
 
A mother loves her children
No matter what the future holds.
Whether it’s life or death or
Runny noses from their colds.
 
A mother loves her daughter
In spite of all the troubles and tattoos.
A mother loves her daughter 
In spite of their difference in views.
 
A mother loves her child
No matter what they do.
The feeling is mutual and
Mother, I really do love you.


Details | Free verse | |

Addicted

 I didn’t know what had happened.
Suddenly my world was turned upside- down.
One day he was fine.
The next day he was sick, very sick.
The day after he was lying helpless in a white hospital gown on a bed not his 
own,
and he seemed to be getting stronger.
The day after that he was gone.
He used walk around the house high.
Smiling and laughing like some demented fool.
Once he knocked my mother’s favorite crystal glass off the dining room table and 
all he did was laugh,
laugh right in her face.
But of course he had complete control.
He could stop whenever he wanted to.
They just made him feel good; they weren’t addictive like that other stuff.
Each time my mother, or aunt, or grandmother confronted him about it,
this was his response.
But soon he needed more.
He slowly but surely progressed from a puff to a snort to a
needle in the arm.
Until one day he was addicted,
completely and totally dependent.
The days when he leapt out of bed on Saturday to play basketball with my 
brothers were gone.
He simply lay there in the hospital bed,
hopeless and scared. We were all scared.
 
As I sat my his side with my Mama I remembered the last time I saw him outside 
of that white hospital gown—
at a family barbeque my mama invited the whole family to.
The sun was shining brightly and I was sweating pretty heavily but as I looked 
over at my uncle I saw he kept shivering, violently.
I wanted to talk to him real bad 
and no one else seemed to notice how lonely he was,
so as frightened as I was by this strange shivering I went over to him.
He spoke kindly to me but most of the time he just kept scratching himself a lot, 
and rocking back and forth in his chair, muttering to himself,
like he didn’t even know I was there.
It was just days later that he passed.
 
 
Mama said he was out of his misery now,
in a better place,
and that God would give him a second chance.
I resolved never to walk that path.
Idiots around me say I will become curious,
that it doesn’t hurt to give something a try.
My uncle was curious too.
I love him but I cannot be like him.
Curiosity has its limits.


Details | Free verse | |

how many dead grandmas

how many dead grandmas?

one idiot calls into work saying their grandma died &
the next week that same idiot tells their professor 
that they missed class because their grandmother 
died & the very next week calls into work saying their
other grandma died & a day later tells their prof that their
other grandma died & the classmates & coworkers talk
amongst themselves saying that the same idiot held other
jobs before this one & frequented other classes before 
this one overflowing with dead grandmother galore---
how many dead grandmas can one idiot have?

 


Details | I do not know? | |

Lingering Moments

Thy precious golden leaves of time
Only within a child they shine.
Lingering moments of a mother
Watching her little ones grow
A moment of silence
Beyond thought of her earthly guidance
She knows that yesterdays and tomorrows
Love will carry them on through life.
As night drifts in reaching out are arms
For goodnight hugs in belief that shields them from harm.
Her voice is softly spoken she whispers gifts of love will always be there.
Hold them closely within your heart to share.
She watches them sleep with a feeling of tenderness
She kisses her precious little ones with gentleness.
Knowing the touch of their smiles the echoes of their laughter lingers.
Lifetime moment remembering every part of then from their toes to their fingers
All of her joy is fulfillment in itself for nothing can measure.
She is a mother capturing moments of pleasures.
She feels her children are her priceless treasures.
Through laughter and tears
In her heart are lingering moments of those years.
Those given moments are memories she holds so dear.
She is a grandmother looking upon thee gifts of love.
That has been held closely to their hearts, she prays for them up above.
The precious golden leaves of time
Only within thy precious gifts of love they shine.


Details | Bio | |

Save Everything

Mom feeds us gingersnaps and saltines
when we get sick to our stomachs,
but I never eat any of it.

With sweaty palms I nervously 
stuff the crackers into my pockets,
telling myself
that I am saving the crumbs for later.

Before we moved my grandmother,
she would collect food like a pack rat.
I’d take her for groceries,
and before she was done hiding them,
she’d ask me to take her for more.
It wasn’t the forgetting that made my stomach churn.
It was the smell of rotten heads of lettuce,
and the sight of curdled milk,
gallons and gallons
with expiration dates long past
neatly lining her refrigerator.
At night she would lock herself in her room
with her stockpile of produce and frozen dinners.
The next morning she’d scream:
“I have no food. I am starving!”

We lose everything we try to save.
Fear is a shapeless starvation,
a hunger born of forgetting.

My grandmother survived the atomic bomb,
hiding in the Japanese countryside,
starving while cities burned alive.

Every day during school,
the teachers would take the children
to pick any living vegetables.
They would celebrate Teruko-san’s honesty,
never sneaking a bite for herself,
always presenting the day’s bounty to her father.

Sixty years later she is starving again.
I am dizzy.
I am sick to my stomach.
My hands dive into my pockets,
but the crumbs are gone.







Details | I do not know? | |

Life's Little Pleasures

    A walk on the beach
Feeling the warm sand between your toes
    The smell of the salt air
Sounds of the waves crashing ashore

Finding a old love letter from your husband
    Filling you with memories

A summer breeze blowing in your hair
    Feeling the arrival of fall

Laying in bed thanking God for his blessings

The sound of your Grandmother singing gospel songs
    As she rocks in her chair

My most precious memory

It's the little things that you treasure


Details | I do not know? | |

You Never Walk Alone

You never walk alone, 
in this life you live; 
You never walk alone 
for God will surely give; 
All the love that you need 
to live a life of peace, 
And the blessings of the 
Lord will surely never cease. 

You never walk alone 
as on through life you trod; 
You never walk alone 
for you are a child of God. 
You are precious to your savior, 
your master and your King, 
And for the love he gives to you 
your heart will surely sing! 

You never walk alone 
even when death is at the door, 
For Christ will surely guide you 
safely to his kingdoms shore; 
And in this kingdom you will dwell 
in the masters care, 
And all the glory that is his 
you will surely share. 

So please remember as you live 
and walk upon this earth; 
You've never walked alone 
even from your day of birth; 
For christ has always been by your side 
taking care of you. 
And if you'll look back over your life 
I'm sure you'll find its true. 
You never walk alone! 
Dedicated to my loving Grandmother Helen M Miller



Details | I do not know? | |

A Grandmother's Love

A Grandmother’s love is as warm as a summer rain 
A Grandmother’s love can cast away any pain 
A Grandmother’s love will last ever after 
A Grandmother’s love is as sweet as laughter
A Grandmother’s love should never be forsaken 
A Grandmother’s love can never be taken
A Grandmother’s love will be there even if you screw up 
A Grandmother’s love will never let you give up 
A Grandmother’s love will always be shared 
A Grandmother’s love shows you that she cared

So take just one moment to sit back and remember 
that Grandmother’s love you have in your heart 
and love one another as your Grandmother loved you.

She loved the good you, the bad you, and just you.



Details | Narrative | |

Match made in Heaven

My voice
Alive with tone
Yet sharply censored
By a mind's take on years
Of historical notes

Tongue no longer sweetened 
By optomism
Or spiced with
Mischievous humor
Suddenly all I taste is
So dry
So predictably dull

Night steps forward quickly
Like a woman whose
High heels carry her too loudly
Over hardwood floors
I hear her sharp 
And definite approach

Darkness surrounds me
Like mink
Soft to the touch 
But cruel in creation
I lay my head down
And begin to dream

My lonely place in the
Darkness opens
Like a curtain
To reveal a carnival scene
Where pale pink cotton candy
Weaves itself gracefully
Around paper cones

I taste the 
Incredible sweetness
Its pure reminiscent aroma
So filling with the 
Portrayal of childhood innocence
A time lost and
So light in texture
I draw the moment in deep
To remember it well

My grandmother is with me now
Baking her rhubarb pie
Picked fresh from the garden
I'm sitting at her table
A bright-yellow vinyl tablecloth
Neatly drapes itself around
Oval-shaped wood

Loud carnival music 
Compliments my meal
I open my mouth wide
Grandmother, serving the perfect balance
Of sweet and spice,
Says softly
"Eat child...Eat"
And then walks away

Alone now 
I see the faint outline
Of a crowd in the distance
Lining up to take their turn
On the Ferris Wheel
I'm driven to the
Perfectly straight horizon
Vividly painted beyond
And to them

A wise-cracking clown
Accompanies me
Telling off-color jokes
And showing me "the ropes"
On how to effectively
Cut in line

I see my lover
Jeans torn and hair
Perfectly backlit by
The midday sun
He is at the front of the line
He is waiting
For me

All those behind him now
Have grown impatient
After all
It's been 
A very 
Very 
Long time

The clown presses my hand
Firmly to my lover's
Like a rose forever saved
Between brittle pages
And with a wink
Waves goodbye

The crowd is cheering now
As brightly-colored balloons
Lift up
Released
They have found 
Their rightful place
In the sky


Details | Bio | |

The cycle

My grandmother was poor 
and she didn't do a thing
She let men abuse her body
and had a dozen kids to account for her sins

She taught her kids the worst message
She taught them to be content with what they see
Now my mother is a seed from her but she raise me differently
What she taught me is how to survive
the lessons she told me are ones she never got

she made some mistakes and had kids at a young age
But she worked really hard and my mother has a lot of heart
People in higher positions are envious of her
Because she has the capabilities and the smarts 
But she never had time to get that safety net degree
the one you can shove in people's faces 
whenever they feel like your beneath them

So she'd say sha you have to do better than me
you have to stopped the cycle or we'll never be free
She got herself a good man  before she had me 
who stuck by her side and loved her completely
So when I was born I lived a full life 
filled with joy and beautiful opportunities

But nothing good ever lasts
and my father eventually passed
So did the money and my fun times crashed
but I understand what my mother said completely
that's why i'm gonna get that safety net degree
cause I don't want my mother to struggle any more

I want to break this cycle so when she reaches and old age
she will be safe and secure 
I don't want her to have to worry anymore 
that's why I strive for better 
A better today, there's a better way
to make a better tomorrow 

 


Details | I do not know? | |

Borrowed Time

Borrowed Time
--------------
As I watched my grandmother close her eyes for the last time,
I’m reminded of something my father told me many years ago.
“We all live life on borrowed time” as he patted me on the back.
His words were confusing at the time, but his soft voice was comforting.

How can you borrow time? And from whom?
And if time was so easy to borrow, why didn’t grandma borrow more?
My little mind was perplexed.

Time passes like leaves in the wind,
And all too soon my father met the same fate as my beloved grandmother.
And though I had no son at the time to pass along such words of wisdom,
My father’s voice came clearly to mind, and I thought to myself.
We all live life on borrowed time,
What I wouldn’t give to be able to borrow just a little more.


Details | Free verse | |

When the Rain Stops Falling

My Grandmother use to hate the rain
Said it reminded her even angels share her pain
But when the sunshines and the clouds clear
The world will be clean and full of cheer

Here lately the world is covered in clouds and gloom
The bright days are left in the shadows to loom
Wondering what the morning will bring
Will it be sunshine or rain

Angels are crying
young men and women dying
This world needs a bright clean new day
We could use these cloudy ones to pray


Details | I do not know? | |

Blow Out The Candles!

Today is your Birthday mom
You just turned fifty-five
Yet you don’t look a day over forty
Still so beautifully vibrant and alive

Preparations we’re all making
For the woman who gave us life
To help celebrate her special day
Our mom, grandmother and wife

What do you buy for someone?
Who already owns what they wish
A families love, health and closeness
Instead of jewelry, roses or even exotic fish

So close your eyes and make a new wish mom
Blow out those fifty-five candles now
Make a wish entirely for you
For selfishness today is undeniably allowed 

© Stacy Lynn Stiles