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Narrative Brother Poems | Narrative Poems About Brother

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Details | Narrative | |

You're Still With Me

Rushing  to your bedside,
cars blurred, people passed me by
yet I still looked for a sign
to know you would be all right
but I only felt God's tears on my cheeks that day

You just lay there,
the fire in you set to low
and I could not see your bright smile
but your heart still beat, ever so strong
and I felt God’s arms embrace me that day

For seven days you held on,
a day for each of us 
even then you were so thoughtful...
you could not speak, but we still heard you breathe
then I heard God whisper to me that day…

As I left with papa to buy your mattress
to soothe your aching sores
I heard His voice say, “Go back and kiss him,”
“This just may be your last.”
And true enough, it was.

We left you there still breathing,
not on your own though, but still
Then that dreaded phone call...
No more need to buy that mattress,
your heart had already gone still

A part of my heart will always be numb,
and I shall never be the same again
a certain twinkle in my eye won’t shine anymore,
it died as you took your final breath
but my smile, how thankful I am I have a hint of yours...

Tears still flow from my soul you know
for all my mistakes, for my version of coping
I am just so sorry, I hope you have forgiven me
and I still hope to feel your embrace once more
when I reach Heaven’s door someday...

It may only be in dreams that I truly see you,
only in prayer do we speak
You are here no more and yet I feel you,
inside my heart, the depths of my soul…
Alive






** this is about the last image of seeing my only brother alive...
he was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball 
5 months prior to his seizure which led to a 7-day coma, 
which he finally succumbed to, 
just 2 days before I turned 23...he was 32...

** originally wrote this for Frank's Images contest- 
thanks Frank for coming up with this, 
it's helped me to write and share this... 
please say a prayer for Raphael, my brother--thank you...

** submitting this as well for HG's Personify a Tear contest

--nikko palmario


Details | Narrative | |

Coming of Age

My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.

He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”

In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.


Details | Narrative | |

BROTHER - BILLY

It started growing in a field
Billy Stover watched it grow

Because the corn was tall
Because Billy Stover was small
No one knew
Now one saw

No one saw how the tiny boy watched by the hour    in summer's heat
Even from the top of high elm trees by the road
    who could have detected that small lad    stretched out
    on his stomach    leaning on his elbows    watching

On stormy days    Billy watched from the closest window
    elbows propped up on the sill
He knew it was growing    though he couldn't see it
He'd be down in the field now    in the mud    watching
    but    his mother forbade it
"What do you do out there    Billy    all by yourself?
What is it you do out there instead of playing?"

On certain days    when the wind swayed the green stalks
    and    nipped Billy's cheeks    his eyes would light up
He fought back a burning desire to run into the white kitchen
    to tug at his mother's apron    to bring her out
    and show her his one spot
He jumped up    once    when the flames leaped high
    started running for the house
"Mother!    Mother!"    he silently shouted
Every part of his small body shook with joy    but
The bleak    white walls of the kitchen
    his mother    her hands dipped in bread dough....................................

It started growing in the field    in the dirt    in the mind of Billy Stover
And    no one could have kept a secret better than Billy


Details | Narrative | |

Jess and Mike

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."



There was a time when Jess was young, that we thought we were going to lose him.
It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors on one side joined the headaches.
Countless trips to the Doctor and days of having to leave work to go to his side at school to help him through the episodes.  I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CAT scan.  I think that the only reason that the Doctor agreed, was to shut me up.  But I knew in my gut, that these were not migraines as diagnosed.
The day of the CAT scan came.  I sat in an area that allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first, the techs were very chatty among themselves.  Then, stark silence.  As if a tomb door had been shut.  Then the words that still haunt me were said..."Oh shit"  on of the technicians whispered.   I closed my eyes and felt my heart cry out in its pain.

I sat in the Doctors office, waiting for him to come and tell me my son was fine.  That there was an error in the reading of the scan.  
He entered with his nurse, who was carrying a box of tissues and cup of water.
"Your son has an arachnoid cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain is not there.  In its place is a fluid filled sack.  The pressure of the filling fluid is causing all the symptoms.  He will need to undergo brain surgery."
I sat there....numb.  All I recall hearing are the words...Brain surgery.
The day of the surgery came.  His younger brother was with me in the waiting room. Too young to understand the gravity of the situation.  All he knew was that his brother was very sick.
Now, I want to take you to our sons Hospital room, post surgery.  
There he was, lying in the big bed.  White as the sheet that covered his small body up to his chest.  His head wrapped in bandages.  Tubes and wires everywhere.
As our son was waking up, his first words were  "Where is my brother?"
Mike flew to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand.  "I'm right here!"  he said.  
Very weakly, Jess was able to say  "I love you Mike."
Mike in turn said, "I love you Jess."
My tears that had never flowed through the whole ordeal finally came.   Not out of fear, but for the love that our sons had for one another.


Paula Swanson
8/20/2011
For the A Fragment Of Life contest
sponsored by Constance La France
Placement:3rd


Details | Narrative | |

Summer Matinee

I was only allowed to go
       (after whining, begging, and promises of unlikely saint-hood)
if my big brother, (much to his displeasure)
made a pledge
to keep an eye on me

Disgruntled, but resigned, he took me along.
He managed to keep, at least,  one eye on me, (however, sitting two rows behind me)
in the dim-dungeon of the Tower theater 
on Atlantic Boulevard,
at the Saturday matinee...

There, happily, and rather smugly,..I would eat popcorn by myself...
which was his apparent bribe,
for my promise to keep our Mother from knowing
my isolation.

As the movie unfolded,
(some Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis thing)
my brother, and his assorted, creepy friends
got great amusement
from throwing kernels of their own buttered bullets,
bouncing them off of the back of my head.
I would turn around to glare at them,
with blood-curdling, "I'm going to tell!", threat in my eyes..
which, of course brought even more sadistic satisfaction, 
to four ape-like, teen aged primates..

After three or four long hours in the dark, air conditioned bedlam...
(a sticky floored collisium for juvenile delinquents),   
we were saturated with multiple cartoons, and double features, sugar and soda,... 
then, emerged with squinty eyes into the sweltering, afternoon sunlight

My brother and his friends, would still be punching each other,
 laughing hysterically at private and quite disgusting jokes
(which I didn't understand, but somehow KNEW, were deplorable)...
  taunting me with, "Cover your ears...Squirt!"

At that moment, all boys,...even my brother, (who was always my hero)...  
                 were as icky as wads of gum stuck under the theater seats !

When the obnoxious, poor excuses for the male sex, had finally parted ways,...
 and as soon as he knew they were out of sight,...
   My brother patted my head, and smiled at me,...
    he reached into his pocket, and handed me
      a piece of Black Jack gum,
       then grabbed my hand,
        and we walked the eight blocks to our home.

Later, after supper, as the summer sun was going down,...
he took me for a ride, letting me sit on the handlebars of his bike
We sped around the block, ..I turned to look back at him and smiled...
                                                         He winked, and grinned back at me...
 
Then, he said, "Next week they are showing "The Blob".  Ya' wanna come?" 

 The sunset sky was pink, yellow and red,    pretty as a lollipop...

     It had been a good , ...actually a perfect, ...summer day......


Details | Narrative | |

A Blind Sunset

He glances out the window,
And watches the sunset,
But he doesn’t see the beauty,
Nor the warm rays which, 
Pierces through the glass,
Only the anticipation and, 
Anxiety of a long night,

Carefully, he watches, 
The colors change,
First the bright orange, 
"God I pray this never ends…"
Filling with a deep red,
"Just a little while longer…"
Slowly softening to the, 
Deceptive pinks and purples,
"Please, one more minute…"
Fading into the crimson black,
Which only night can bring,

Reluctantly, he gets ready for sleep,
Yet, knows it will never come,
He tossed and turns,
Half praying, half waiting,
Knowing what will happen,
In the way only a child can,

A light! It peeks through a crack,
In the door as a shadow floods the opening,
Quickly, the figure slips through the door,
And shuts it softly, but not without the,
Empty creak which has become so familiar,
The shadow climbs in beside him,
Touching his trembling leg, whispering,

“Hush little brother, it’ll be alright,
While I’m here, have no fear,
I’ll keep you safe tonight,”

He struggles and writhes,
Sadly knowing he will never,
Break the grip and prays to faint,
To loss all consciousness and,
Memory of that horrible night,
Just for one night without the pain,
Just for one night without, 
The cold empty feeling, 

Several years pass, too many to count, 
A single call, one he had never expected,
He rushes to the hospital to find, 
His tormentor for so many years,
Lying on a cold, hard bed,
Able to move, but only by pushing a button,
Able to speak, but only with a whisper,

He stays by him for weeks, caring for him,
Reading to him, watching over him,
Still suffering, still unable to move, 
He takes his brother home, 

The day goes on, moving slow as all,
The evening comes and he,
Watches once more as the sun sets,
Carefully watching, Orange to red,
Red to purple, and as the purple turns to black,
He walks into the room where his brother lies,
Slowly, he sits next to him, holding a pillow,
Stroking his head whispering,

“Hush big brother, it’ll be alright,
While I’m here, have no fear,
I’ll keep you safe tonight,”

The difference between right and wrong,
Can be hard to find,
But who’s there to see you,
When justice is blind?



Details | Narrative | |

The Nuts fall close to the tree

In the dimmed theater, the stage is set
not for a play though, yet a performance 
one of baton, brass, notes, timpani 
the performance I have waited for has come

As the stage lights grow brighter like sunlight
the theater grows dimmer yet, almost dark
but for the brilliance of the stage lights
then out you come with French Horn in hand

Along with thirty of forty other musicians
you take the stage, you are first chair
therefore you must be at your best tonight
and I know that you will be, you've practiced

The Conductor arrives on stage and announces
Welcome to the Black Hawk County Honor Band
I am sure you will be pleased with our selections
The Conductor takes the podium, opens his arms

With baton in hand he signals instruments ready
You raise your horn along with the others
ahhh the sound is fervent with excitement 
the theater is alive with Parker in G flat

I can pick your horn from all the other instruments
you are playing the best you have ever played
you are caressing your horn like a fine jewel
and it sparkles in the light brilliance unimagined

Like your brother the writer of poetic beauty
you also have talent, musical talent like I
you now can hear a song and play it, by ear
like I you are learning the guitar, teaching yourself

The next song, Bach, such beauty to my ears
you and your fellow musicians have mastered the master
two years you have played, it sounds like many more
I film the whole concert, to preserve the moment

The concert ends with a Beethoven, in B how lovely
again you played masterfully, never missed a note
You even hit high G, and you thought you couldn't 
well done son and it's all on tape, and in my memory

Red faced you leave the atrium, you worked so hard
I hug you and tell you how proud I am of you
all you want is a drink of water, you drank and
the redness is leaving your face, well done I hug you again

I wish your Brother could have been here to see and hear
he would have been proud too, and would have hugged you
You see, talent runs in our family, Me, you and Jared
all have it, So I guess it's in the gene pool, must be for you see

The Nuts fall close to the tree !


Details | Narrative | |

He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


Details | Narrative | |

- YELLOW BOOTS SING -




            A long time ago
            A little boy - he was only three
            Blue eyes and hair white like snow
            The sun was his playmate
            The rain was his enemy
            Drip, drip wet and cold
            He asked for YELLOW boots
            Yellow boots wondered his mom and dad
            Boys use blue or black boots
            No - YELLOW they had to be
            The boy in just three years got new YELLOW boots
            First rainy day the boy was ready
            Drip, drip wet and cold
            YELLOW boots are singing - they will sing the sun back
            Under his big black umbrella
            the boy goes with his singing YELLOW boots
            This little boy was my brother





            * " - A true YELLOW song - "




Sponsor: Monterey Sirak
Contest Name:THE SOUND OF COLOR 
Deadline	12/15/2013 12:00:00 AM



20.11.2013
A-L Andresen :)


Details | Narrative | |

School Days

(and long brown stockings) 

I detest these stockings,
they're coarse, brown and ugly.

I hate the garters more;
elastic circles that cut off 
circulation and fail to halt 
the laddering down my skinny legs.

If only . . . I picture myself
in warm jeans and no teasing
from Tommy Rogers.

I put the garters to better use,
roll the repulsive stockings
down around my ankles. 

Tommy taunts,
"Who gave you
jointed toothpicks for legs?"

I lost it.

Now, Tommy has a black eye
and my nose is in the corner.


Details | Narrative | |

THE CRAFT CAN CAPTURE IT

Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito 
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches 

Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved

Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities? 
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.

Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen 
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.

How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism 
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners 
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo

Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro 

May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din

As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away' 
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?” 
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino” 
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism

Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas 
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks 

I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin 
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta

Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas 
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika

‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it

Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago 
The name of people is Tausug. 
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam 
Is already a nation and state 
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja

Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law

I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts 
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.

I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it 
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.






This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!


Details | Narrative | |

My brother

Nascent you were to this macrocosm,
Blessed  you were to parents,
Dyspoeic, unsounded from mother’s womb you emerged,
Many conceived you were with Jesus,
Afore brought forth into beingness.
Doctors resuscitate with oxygen mask,
Travail, thirty minutes passed brought you back.
Triumphant over death, won life for yourself.
Whence you cried, Father gloating in joy cried a river.
Thence avouch, sweven God’s work as you grow a man.
engendered after, saw father’s fond on you.
Through many years of togetherness;
Pettifogger we fought and punished.
Though non twins, grew more like identical.
when you cried a child, I cried and still does.
Such is the love of brother, my brother.
Thither you went away to boarding school.
Whereby learned ways, good and bad.
And drew more to wassailer, drunkenness.
dissever we became, perceived I abhorred my brother.
Fondly Imbibe in whisky, disremembering your sole purpose,
So fond nearly you died like once when born half dead.
And whence in hospital bed you battled for life,
I cried a river, my brother.
I do not hate as I hate cockatrice,
I care more than I care the girl of my life.
And whence you live wastefully rummy, I rue.
Come at able, find oneself and the purpose, my brother.
The life you once battled and won when first born,
Be not languish in vain.
Be cumbered and hugger-mugger no more.
Ere in final resting place you lay,
I invoke to envision you gratified after years.
Heedless of how you impeach, I despise;
I merely have one brother.
My brother! My brother.


Details | Narrative | |

The Stranger in the House

I wander through this house
As silent as a mouse

Though it is my own I feel I've been away
I'm rather speechless, having not much to say

I see my brother working in the shed
Just passing the time as if he's seen red

I see my other brother smoking a cigarette
With no enthusiasm... has he too seen red?

I do my daily routine
Pace, contemplate and clean

Though something is not quite right
This summer day bears no light

I come into the living room
Usually lively... filled with joy

Now it's naked and abandoned
Like a toddlers chest of old toys

But wait... I see Mother on the couch
She's sad with wet crimson face

She doesn't even say hello
Has my coming here been a waste?

"Why are you crying Mother
Have I done something wrong?"

She just sobs and sobs
... a rather disquieting song

My father looks down at her
With a smile

But something about him
Seems quite vile

"I miss him... I miss him so much"
She cries so helplessly

"Who do you miss Mother?
I don't understand what you mean..."

My dad buts in with no consideration
Revealing horrible secrets in such wicked display

"Alright, alright... I confess... I killed him!
But quite you're crying about it, it's better off this way!"

It all comes to me
In such a sudden burst

I feel the intense hatred
So much it hurts

I'm not here... I don't exist... (at least not anymore)
I'm the stranger in the house!

But soon I'll get my revenge
I'll make Father feel as tiny as a mouse!

I know what you've done
I should've known all along

I will tell everyone
And correct this home gone wrong

I'll come to life again! I'l---






Wait...

Rooms dark...

Blanket wet... I feel cold...

Why am I laying down? Was all that just a---

"Morning son! I've made you breakfast;
Scrambled eggs and french toast, your favorite!"

Could he really? ... no...
Just a dream...



NOTE: This entire dream actually happened to me. The only thing that was fiction was the part about my dad making me breakfast in the morning.



For Russel Sivey's Dream Contest

03 - 19 - 2013


Details | Narrative | |

The Dream

In slumber I lay on white sheets in the barn.
	Sweet thoughts of a lover from which I am torn.
	I can still smell the scent of her soft fragrant hair.
	To my side I find that my Cougar is there.
	Calmly he paces.
	He claws at my arm to warn me, beware!
The ghost that is floating just feet in the air!
	I leap to my feet, my lover is gone, the sorrow I feel will forever live on.
	I run to the woods and I turn to see that the ghost is closing in on me!
	I stop.
	Only a face, just mouth, just eyes.
	But calmness comes over me as I realize,
	The ghost is my brother
	How is this so?
	Perhaps it is love he is trying to show.


Details | Narrative | |

Oh, So Cute - - -

Once upon a time, I was an only child, for eight lovely years, it was all about me, then it happened, the most terrible thing ever, my Mom gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. She soon came home from the hospital, hugging her bundle of joy close to her heart, I peered into the bundle, honestly what was the, big deal, he was wrinkled up like an old prune. As the days past his cheeks grew chubby, he had soft, wispy hair on his head and his body filled out all cute, just like the Gerber baby, at least that is what everyone would say when viewing him. Gosh, why did he have to be so cuddly, always cooing and laughing with those bright eyes of his, blowing bubbles and taking everyones attention, and why, oh why did I love him so much. Narrative January 19, 2013 For the Gerber Baby Contest


Details | Narrative | |

Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
	

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.


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A Tale Of Vampirates

Busy reading a curious series 
Wrapped in the fantasy 
Written within it's covers
A story of Vampirates

A complex tale of lives entwined 
Destiny shaped before life 
Journeys embarked upon
While sailing the open seas

Set in a time ahead of now 
Throughout the past plays it's part
Challenges faced by siblings divided
Worlds apart their loyalties tried

Enchanting descriptions of a world apart
Removed from reality
Still within its embrace
An epic tale of adventure

Thousands of pages
To tell its full tale
A beautiful story
An original, truly one of a kind

Wanting the story to continue 
For the characters journeys 
To not be through
To pick up where we left off

Sailing through the seas
In search of answers
Of treasure 
And more

Twins who were once sheltered 
Exposed to untold dangers
Denied the truth
To who they are

Centuries of time 
Riddled with tales 
Of more than just the twins 
Conner and Grace

But alas the tale is done
With their unusual stories
Left swinging in limbo
So onto the next one

Written by:  Shannon Deane
Written:  June 9th, 2011
Contest:  Sea Of Words


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Five Million New Americans

I welcome the five million new Americans
the president legalized today.
To the new Americans:
don’t trust the politicians,
now that you are legally here
in the good old U S of A,
the political hacks are going to take
a large portion of your money,
screw you and your family members
each and every chance they get
and try to get you to abort your unborn babies
because they believe that there are
far too many humans on planet earth already
and that roaches, snakes, worms and rats
need more open areas on the planet to breed.
Professional politicians are more closely related
to such loathsome creatures than they are
to normal human beings such as you and I.
Welcome my brothers and sisters.
May God bless you on a daily basis.


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The Diet

I never eat breakfast 
since the mornings when, as a small child,
my older brother, 
sitting at the same cheery-blue kitchen table,
would arch one dark, thick eyebrow up from behind the cereal box 
and snarl, “I hate your guts.”


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The Scar

“Only girls cry!…Oh, boo hoo!” laughed my brother, (as big brothers often do)
 He had been taunting me, teasing me, heckling me, as I whined, complained.
 Neither of us would have won a prize, for being the angelic sibling pride, 
 of Kirby street one day outside, in hot July...
              “You jerk!”..I cried,…a laughing stock...his mocking me.. 
               He smirked, while our brawl played out for all the world to see.

No recourse, no remorse..(poor me!!)… I was the butt of his demeaning jokes 
and by then my temper had been stoked, he had poked me once too often!

So HUGE, was my disdain for this smug, big thug, that grinning face, 
so....in retaliation, for my humilation, (as an enraged little sister might do..)
I grabbed one of his model airplanes….and threw....! But then.....
it broke into shards, big shrapnel pieces…I dashed for cover...
cowering behind the hedge…waiting for his own revenge!…

Instead it left a gash, an ugly wound, I was aghast...!
Above his nose.........a bloody rose
Well, of course our Mother got involved.. .
It was resolved by iodine and bandages
And a tongue lashing...
“You could have put out his eye!! ….and then we cried, …the two of us 

Well, we would repent, with orders to spend the day becoming friends...

The afternoon sun was hot in the yard….  
Until, a sudden, lightning shot
..tires skidding loudly down hot asphalt
One unguarded moment fell, and things came to a halt

As if a horrible spell, was cast upon the day ….
 there was a car,.... around the bend 
  the game we played, about to end....
         his dog, (a sweet dalmatiion friend) was hit
               ....and then....  
                      all time suspends........

My brother’s sweet dog, who slept on his bed, was gone
The next hours painfully hung…with weight of the memory lingering on….
Ending with me alone in my bed..
Mute with grief ….remembering his words….”Only girls cry”….
Hearing his sobs……all through the night..
And my parent's cooed comfort, the soundtrack to this tragic movie
That still plays in my darkest theater….all these years later

I shudder still, have a lump in my throat…how that faint little scar,
above his nose.... can still emote…    
such feelings of tenderness I felt on that day.  
Over the years…we have shared many tears…
            we have leaned on each other, me and my brother
Big girls will cry, just as little girls do…and big boys can cry,
                    ..And hey,...ya' know what? ..That’s okay, too.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Carrie Richards


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Granny And Your last glass of water

He starts singing songs of Ireland and we are home in a jiffy
"What's a jiffy," my mother wonders
"Guess  where we went Granny?"
"I don't know but I have a feeling you are gonna tell me," answers my grandmother
"And Don't call me Granny!"
"We went to church so Poppy could ask secret questions."
"The priest gave Poppy a shot and a beer and Poppy sent me next store and he gave me money for  taffy."
"He told me not to tell anyone especially you about the priest cause it's only for the priests ears."
"He said God would take away taffy and I'd never get another goodie and God would strike me dead if I told."
"So I can't tell anyone."
"He did," and she starts yelling and grabs a weapon,"what kind of idiot would be scaring a little child?"
Granny is standing on  Poppy's toes and and asking him questions of where he'd been and getting a sniff of his breath
"So what did you tell  the priest and him giving you consolation and a shot and beer."
"That little rat ," and thinks about the money for candy
Later, Granny is chasing Poppy with that big iron frying pan and poppy running and singing
"In Heaven they have no beer, that's why we drink it here."
"You damn fool I'm gonna bust you in the head, "and throws the pan at his head
And later
Cousin Francis has bill collectors come to the house looking for him
Granny was four foot seven  inches and she starts kicking him in the shin
My Mother grabs his Dick Tracy hat and she jumps on it and flattens it
I ask my mom where I was when this happened and she pauses
" You were in Heaven Patrick waiting with your brother!"
The truancy officers bang on the door and want to know where Uncle Charles is
Granny shrugs and says, "He is upstairs and the sound of the window going up sounds
They all run upstairs and see Uncle sliding down the tree and running as fast as his
seven year legs can move
He comes home later that evening holding a goose under his arm
And Poppy has a soft-boiled goose egg for breakfast every morning
I ask Uncle what happened to that goose and He said,"one day he came home  and
they had chicken for dinner."
And Poppy was gone to heaven to get me and my brother ready Mom says
And Granny sits my brother and me on her lap and says,"you two knuckleheads listen up."
"This is very important so don't forget it."
"Treat people the way you want to be treated, because you never know who is going to hand you your last glass of water"


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Family

A decade in to
a new millennium,
a woman, nearing
a century on Earth,
braces herself in
a doorway of
the house,
she has lived in since birth.

Her oldest son unfastens his belt, and takes a seat at the end of her table,
where her middle son just fixed the legs of the chair; to make sure it was stable.
Her youngest son brushes the webs off the wall, and scrubs the stains from the floor.
Her only daughter packs up her pictures, and helps her through the door.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a life, almost
a century long,
comes flooding back
to the thoughts of a woman
who feels removed 
from where she belongs.

Her daughter tries to lift her spirits, (from the room in which, she slept as a child)
but no one could easily witness their memories, all being sorted, and filed.
Her house is dissected, and put in a truck that waits - like a thief - in the drive.
-The cumbersome stance; the delicate dance; together, they help one another survive.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a woman approaches
a century - passed.
A man in the attic
waves from the window -
Assuring her: 
This home will not be her last.


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Soul of a Son, Life of an Addict '

There in a small town in Mississippi, a very poor family of (7) seven are yes struggeling but are yes abound. Jimmy the youngest of them at now 17 tell his father that he wants to be a Preacher The desire to teach is a privilledge that he inherited from his Uncle, and nowat that prunitive age he goes to his uncle (home) town. The soul of a son is one thing, but the life of a addict is another. My Brother, my brother he sit's down one day and listen in on one of his uncle's lectures as this friend of Jimmy is being lestured too.  You don't need to be weak at the knee's in this stage of dealing with certain issue's and as he comes to the end of his lectures he himself (jimmy) is in need of some "tissue". Jimmy is a member of the debate team(at school) one of the student is this friend, who is dealing with crack-cocaine habit that he just began doing for about a month now.  So this-this-ss partic-ular day jimmy takes him to see the preacher (his uncle) after this young friend said to him, "help-me". {I believe you can be of some help}. "Don't be afraid to seek God as your first step".
So after the two of them have elaborated over the matter for and hour, Jimmy feel's a
need of concern, so they leave together.  My Brother-my brother. "Life of an Addict",
will carry you places you never thought you'll be and keep you in situation's and you
will never be free.  Free to enjoy (life) and freedom from the depentacy of drugs
and living on the streets!!....
 These phrases becomes a part of the mindset in one's attempt to go forward with the
"Power of Prayer", and the belife of knowing you're not a "Coward".  "Soul of a Son",
is to surrender your all onto the source of everything(Faith).  And "Life of an Addict",
is knowing that God places people in your life to possitivily restore your faith in your-
self.  So when life throws you a "Nippy", (storms) that is when you're not to give up,
because the enemy wants you to think that you are always running on empty!!.
"For he is everywhere (Jesus) even there in this small town of Mississippi".


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Son of the Morning

Once, he had the most brilliant light
In Heaven, he'd been the star even at night
The most favored, the most beautiful
He never thought one day he'd become a fool

He was always pure, never felt insecure
Until Heaven borne one special creature
And the angels cried, the angels wondered
What would happen if they are no longer favored?

Angels watched as Heaven gave the man a special woman
My beloved one walked away, flame in his hand
Why the special gift for a man made in soil?
That was when anger and envy started to boil

The most beautiful star sat alone in silence
Heaven's in peace, can he dare start a violence?
Yes, he would for the love of Heaven
So he called all his beloved brethren

War would never do good for anyone
He knew from the sight of blood in his hands
And stared at the ground where his brethren laid
From the bloody battle, my beloved angel turned away

His wings unfurled, made of pure Heaven and glory
They were as black as night, magnificent and lovely
He made once last glance as he begun to descend
He knew he made a mistake he could never amend

It was his nature, no other pleasure than flying
But his heart broke knowing that he's falling
He landed to the ground, broken and wounded
Tears from his eyes, he felt ashamed and abandoned

He stood alone in the middle of the night
His wings dimmed, slowly fading its light
For the first time, he felt the rain on his skin
And for the first time, he shivered from the coldness of the wind

He looked up and saw his brethren
Why did they follow him, he's a Fallen
They bowed their heads, still loving him
So he decided, He's Lucifer and no longer the Son of the Morning


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How to Burn a Field

(Good Advice Spurned)

Grandmother packed a picnic lunch.
Brother, sister, and I, with two uncles
traipsed into the woods,
in search of adventure.

We found it.
We ate our picnic lunch, sitting 
on a fallen tree, spanning the creek.

We sampled “Rabbit Ice,” formed 
on weeds, hugging the stems
in smooth, thin white curls.
We drank creek water in cupped hands,
so cold, we shivered.

“Let’s build a fire,” my brother said.
Uncle Larry cautioned, “You’d better not. 
You’ll set the field on fire.”
We built the fire,
warmed our cold hands.

As the circle of fire began to spread,
we beat it with branches,
water carried from the creek in our hats. 
Undaunted, the fire ate up the dry grass,
spreading like a pond ripple
from a rock thrown in.

Uncle Larry refused to join
our efforts to ‘beat out’ the fire.
He stood, callously laughing
at our futile efforts.
The entire field burned.

We worried all afternoon.
What would Granddad say,
when he saw the black field
from the kitchen window?


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Dance Above The Stars

The laughter I see,
is hidden so deep,
a memory of yesterday,
mine to keep.

Those that know you,
or think they do,
can never hold dear,
the days of me, and you.

Saying goodbye,
hurts me so bad,
my eyes now misty,
my heart is so sad.

No one knows,
when time is no more,
eternity takes over,
when we enter Heaven's door.

Sing so joyous,
dance above the stars,
my heart will know peace,
for I know where you are.


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Cancer Took Him

His memory I have,
mine to hold,
no one can take it,
cherished as if gold.

Cancer took him,
but his fight was strong,
my brother is with our mother,
now their pain is gone.

His only sister,
treated so cold,
by some of the family,and friends,
the truth shall be told.

Take what you want,
go on your way,
you will pay dearly,
and answer one day.




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Remembering the Scar

“Only girls cry!…Oh, boo hoo!” laughed my brother, (as big brothers often do)
 He had been taunting me, teasing me, heckling me, as I whined, complained! 
 Neither of us would have won a prize, for being the angelic sibling pride, 
 of Kirby street that day outside, one hot July...
              “You Thug!”..I cried,…a laughing stock...his mocking me, 
               and worst of all, our bitter brawl played out for all the world to see.

No recourse, no remorse..(poor me!!)… As the butt of his demeaning jokes 
By then my temper had been stoked, he had poked me once too often!

So HUGE, was my disdain for his smug, big thug, that grinning face,
in retaliation, for my humilation, (as an enraged little sister might do..)
I grabbed one of his model airplanes….and threw……THREW HARD...
It broke into shards, big shrapnel pieces…I dashed for cover...
Hovering behind the hedge…waiting for his own revenge!…

Instead it left a gash, a bloody angry wound, I was aghast....!
Well, of course our Mother got involved.. .
It was resolved by iodine and bandages
And a tongue lashing...
“You could have put out his eye!! ….and then we cried, …the two of us 

Well we would repent, and spent the day becoming friends...

The afternoon out in the yard….  
One sudden, unguarded moment ….
 there was a car,.... came ‘round the bend 
  and as our game was 'bout to end....his dog, (his mongrel friend) was hit
       ....and then....
             all time suspended........

My brother’s sweet dog, who slept on his bed, was gone
The next hours painfully hung…and long is the memory that still weighs a ton….
Ending with me alone in my bed..
Mute with grief ….remembering his words….”Only girls cry”….
Hearing his sobs……all through the night..
And my parent's cooed comfort, the soundtrack to this tragic movie
That still plays in my darkest theater….all these years later

I shudder still, have a lump in my throat…how that faint little scar, can still emote…    
such feelings of tenderness I felt on that day.  
Over the years…we have shared many tears…
            we have leaned on each other, me and my brother
Big girls will cry, just as little girls do…and big boys can cry,
                    ..and hey,..that’s okay, too


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Brother and Sister

Susan sits by an open window
Remembering her brother
It was during the sixties when it happened
The exact date was May 8, 1966
They called the Sixties liberating
A time when America accepted change
But it wasn’t like that for everyone
Her brother Stevie
Was two years younger than she was
The guys in school used to call him names
Like sissy boy and queer
Saying if he got into trouble his sister would have to stick up for him.

But Stevie was better
Way better than the bullies at school.

At home Susan and her brother 
Would move the living room coffee table 
Push the old couch back 
And then sing the old favorites 
In close harmony
Songs about teenage love
Like the sad love ballads by the Everly Brothers
Or the Righteous Brothers
The sadder the love song
The more they liked it
They would stand together
Moving ever so slowly
And sing those songs so loud 
And so close 
To each other’s face 
Over and over 
And then Stevie would whistle the ending
While their parents 
Clapped and clapped
And clapped. 

Then one late afternoon
When Stevie didn’t come home from school
The phone rang and rang
With a strange incessant kind of ringing
That jarred their mother  
It was someone from the school saying 
That horseplay got out of hand
Then the police came 
A man in a suit spoke to father in the kitchen
Whispering over the clouds of cigarette smoke 
Susan could barely hear his hoarse whisper 
Only things like “We‘re going to investigate this”
And  “I promise I’ll do what I can”
Her family never did find out what happened to the investigation.

Along the way
Away from home
Something peculiar happened to Susan 
She lost something of herself
And would sit   
Staring out of the window 
Not seeing anything
Just thinking of her brother.

She still does it today
Just staring
Out to nowhere
Every time she hears one of those old songs
She feels that Stevie is still with her.

Forgiveness is a long word
For what happened a long time ago
All Susan has are memories
If she could just absorb them  
And put them in a little bottle 
And carry them around
So whenever she started feeling down
She’d open the bottle 
And all those good memories 
Would remind her just how special life is 
 And Stevie would still be there
Their bodies entwined
Singing harmony
She holding the last note
He snapping his fingers
Whistling the last sad tune.



.
 


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A Dragon's Tale

Kicking up dust with my Mary Jane shoes
too many years ago now to be counted
in the darkening shadows of one bronze summer day
I was holding his hand, with assurance and trust
filled with concoctions of sugared excitement

I remember our feet crossing the plank
My Dad, (for the fourth time, with a smile on his face)
giving me a chance to back out with grace
giving me a chance to change my mind
"There's no disgrace,"....he said once again

But I was determined, insistent and firm!
How many times, had they taken a turn...
my brother and Dad....while I had to watch and yearn
standing below, in the infantile shame of the nowhere zone?

Dad finally relented, to my mother's chagrin
then took my hand,.......and with bravado...I had won!...

Sticky was the heat, and so were my hands, while we waited
that with a fidgety impatience, leading to the front of the line

We boarded the Dragon, a faceless contraption, 
that seemed quite familiar...and oddly resembled
the creation my brother had made on our living room floor 
with his 'million and one piece' erector set

A strange looking man with a sunburned face
and a head that seemed too small for his burly, puffed up size
escorted us to a red metal bucket, and strapped us in

Before the sound of train wheels began to grind
I buried my face in the arm of my Dad....
Blinded by fear,  too scared to see, too scared was me!

I know we had the ride of my life....
The Dragon, I'm sure was fierce as could be
But I was not harmed
But for the life of me....
I only remember my shaky knees, 
and walking the plank back into mother's waiting arms



__________________________

Inspired by Lisa's Contest: "Unamed County Fair "


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Ten Brothers

Beneath a flag of red and white
A soldier quietly lies,
His mother sits just to his right
Tears falling from her eyes.

Brothers lie all laid in rows
Around his final bed,
A cross for each one shows
Their names above their heads.

Seven more stand by his side
With rifles standing tall,
Dressed in honor, feeling pride
For this brother who gave all.

One more stands by his feet
A bugle in his hand,
Plays that melody so sweet
Of taps now for this man.

Two more now step up to fold
Old Glory from her pall,
And place it in Mom's hand to hold
A present from us all.

Ten brothers stand by this man's grave
With respect in just suffice,
For this soldier who proudly gave
His life for freedom's price.

Ten brothers came to send him on
To take his final station,
But thousands more sit at home
Giving thanks with the entire nation.

Somewhere, lying overseas
The man who took this life,
Ten buzzards now has he
Giving thanks at his grave site!


                          Timothy I. Brumley


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So Much Love From God

God loves me so much From the heavens above He has truly given me So very much love Different types of love Each starts like a seed That grows deep inside Creating a special need First the undying love Is where it all starts With Jesus Christ placed Perfectly in my heart Then the individual love Of being one’s self As God made me to be Like no other one else The peaceful calmness That nature shares Offers the serene love To wash away cares The caring love of parents Is such a wonderful gift So many others have not And their spirits I try to lift The loyal love of siblings I am very thankful for Even with lives apart Our love is evermore Enduring love comes from My wonderful large family No matter the ups and downs They never give up on me The precious love of children My most cherished gifts of all Though my angels have all grown They are to me little dots so small The kind love of in-laws Is such a bonus I am given Making my loved one’s lives All worth a reason for living The joyous love of grandchildren Each a true blessing from above Bubbling joy flows from them all Filling me with a delightful love The devotional love of pets No one could closely compare To the never ending devotion That will always be there The faithful love of friends With truth of consistent fact I can always count on them To be there to catch my back True passionate love of a man I thought would never bloom I only dreamed of how it’d be So wonderful I would assume Now that I’ve been touched By the true passion of a man I feel the dreams come true Feeling so wonderful ‘tis am All these gifts of love God gives to me within Are opened very carefully As each is specially given For a seed of love to grow Takes patience and then some I enjoy each moment of growth As there is so much more to come Florence McMillian (Flo)


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dead letter mail

the evening was a beautiful blue
when i got home from my workday

i went to the mailbox, retrieved a pile
and quickly perused the stack

i saw it quickly and was surprised,
my brother got a "handwritten note"

no return address, i noted,
yet it all returned, flooding back to me, 
the pain, the grief, the gladness,
all the stages of grief and life.

i held it up to the light, to candle it,
like a fresh egg from an older time

it was, as i suspected, a sales promo,
for foundation repair or perhaps 
for whole life insurance, or some
equally ironic useless instrument as,
my brother has been dead for many years.

i smiled, after the startle had subsided,
knowing, remembering, how my brother 
would have reacted, with a wry comment,
and perhaps a joke about always hoping 
he'd leave a forwarding address.

i got to thinking...do the dead, 
just like us, long for a note, a letter, 
some quickly dashed off postcard? 
"Having a time of it here, wish we could talk.".

perhaps, a little something 
with cologne-sprayed paper, 
or a glittered envelope,
or more my siblings style, with
some hot habanero, or heritage 
cantaloupe seeds inside. - 
just a quick note that says 
"You are remembered, and missed".

{looking up}
"i'd like a fifty-cent postcard, 
and a book of forever stamps please."

© Goode Guy 2013-05-13


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On Call

 			
My sister called, “You must come now, to see him still alive.”
He’d had the dreadful verdict just a week or so before,
my precious younger brother, last remaining one of five.
“You should accept the Hospice care, we can do nothing more.”

“I’m tired, Sis, “ he answered, when I asked him how he was.
He didn’t need to tell me, I could see that it was so.
It was strange to hear him say it; he had always been so brave,
suffering for years in silence, and not wanting world to know.

I stood there a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to say
and hating my own healthy hand that patted his thin cheek.
I battled back the tears before they had a chance to flow
as I prayed to God to help me find the proper words to speak.

It was not the first time I had come when Brother needed me,
like the time some years ago now, when he’d lost his only son.
I made all of the arrangements and wished I could do more
to help my grieving brother when things needed to be done. 

He had raised that boy by himself, after his wife ran away
and didn’t try to fight him, for she knew that she was wrong.
Joe’s life was lived around that boy until the accident. 
I was afraid that it would break him, but somehow he got along.

I was nine years old when he was born and I adored that baby.
He was so good and happy until the hated illness came.
Inflammatory rheumatism is what they called the sickness.
It affected him in every joint.  He never was the same.

I helped my mama care for him and loved him even more,
and promised God I would be good if He’d just make him well.
Finally the swelling left and he could walk again,
but he’d not be strong like others, almost anyone could tell.

But what he missed in brawn he surely made up with his brains.
He became a radio announcer and found some small town fame.
Then he moved to the big city and hosted a political talk show.
It wasn’t long before a lot of people knew his name.

But the good years were not long before the dreadful wear and tear
of his chronic illness  caused his joints to  deteriorate. 
He had most of them replaced but another one would go. 
And he had to accept the pain as just his fate. 

The pain medicine he took for years has come at a big price.
And he must give his life to pay the bill.
All I can do now is to be there and to stay until the end
for the brother that I’ve loved and always will.




For Paula's "Crisis" contest  Won first place











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august march

overcome over fifty years
I have a dream, in arrears
we shall - shall we?
well - we'll see
fifty years later and
the Negro still is not free
tell 'em about the dream 
again Martin
tell 'em Trayvon - tell Martin

© Goode Guy 2013-08-25

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/august#Adjective
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/March_on_Washington_for_Jobs_and_Freedom
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Have_a_Dream
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trayvon_Martin#Trayvon_Martin


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The Smith Boys

At Sixty-One I write these stories not for fun or prosperity....
Or profit.....

You have to understand the times.....It was the Fifties....
The Smith boys..all three of us...
Greg, my brother Reggie and Me...
We had it all....and didn't know it.
Our Summers were spent
Running wild...In Ontario California....

Mom would tell us get out of the house
In the morning....So she and my sister
Could clean the house in peace....

Yahoo....

My big brother Greg always had
An adventure for us....and Reg and I
Were always up for whatever he had planned....
Let us not forget that Greg was only Ten....
And I was a tender kid of Eight....

This adventure as I recount was
Greg's idea....

He told my Dad that his grades were good
And a trip to Holey Jim's Canyon was in order...
A place my Dad had taken us before....
Trout streams and shade trees....

He told my Dad that he'd make sure we
Would be okay....If  he would give him five dollars
for food for five days...  

Yep!  It was a done deal...
Against Mom's appeal...
We said good bye with fishing poles
And blankets In hand we watched them drive away....
No fear we shared as we were
The Smith Boy's.....

I remember Mom crying just before they drove away...
Her little boys away from home....and all alone...
But hey...it was an adventure....
Dad knew the value he was teaching us...
 
We swam and played and fished all day...
At night we built a fire....
Bathing was a thing we did
In the morning....after the fish stopped biting...

I remember going with my brothers to a 
Little store....they had an ice box machine there...
For five cents you could choose a soda pop...
My favorite was an Orange Crush....

Sitting on an old wood bench outside
This country store...I was in heaven....
We ate peanut and jelly sandwiches
For most of the five days...as far as I can remember....
And slept under the stars...

I think it was the day before Mom and Dad
Were due....when playing and running...we found
To our dismay a hive our honey bees...
Run...run...Greg told us....
I was just behind him....the bees were made as hell
As I ran.....poor Reggie last in line...

While I know we all got a sting or two...
Reggie got the worst....
His eyes were swollen almost shut
His face was just a mess....

But a true Smith he was and never did he complain
As Mom and Dad drove into camp and took us home
That day.....
What a great adventure we did have....The Smith boy's
Us three great traveler's unafraid.....


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Telephone

When I was a child I waited for Your call

How could You do this to me

We stood by the phone but You were busy

How could I have thought You heard

The youngness wasn't enough

You were too disconnected to answer

Unaware we dialed You again and again

The others waited too and starved

I believed in Your love

The Omnipotence fragmented



For you Brother 
 

The signal was one ring and I should ring back

But the Power said disconnected

I tried You again but the voice said no

The number you have reached is not in service

So I checked the number and again  it said clear

Those tears turned into a river and we saw You sail by

You were needed at the church and the glory

Two children stayed and together was no matter

Dancing we made new games and prayer

Oh Dio

 

Am older now and the prayer

My brother is gone cause he took a cab

Their was no fare

He doesn't wait now but I still

I hear him in the night

I see him in strangers and glances

Begging You I wait as before

The toys help with those moments and dialing

Your phone rings off the hook

God help us all


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My Brothers Op

My Brothers Op
To everyone that added their prayers to mine
My brother came through the op - he’s fine
He gave us worries at the start
But now they have re tubed and flushed his heart
It kept him quiet for a while
If you knew him you’d know that’s not his style
I can only thank you for caring
And thank you for your prayers and sharing.

My new brother as we call him 
Is very dear to me
We never even met
Until he passed the age of fifty- three.
We had been searching the web, as people often now do
To find ancestors out there, bet you have done it too.
We came across a tree, while searching for some other
You can imagine our surprise, when we found we had a new brother

We are very close my big brother and I
I lost one and found one new
He will never replace my other one 
But he is my brother true.
I love him as if he’s always been there
We’ve missed so much time together.
But then we may have been complacent
If we had known each other for ever. 

Thank you for all the good wishes and prayers you sent. I would like to respond to all of them and congratulate all your wins but it will take me forever so please accept a huge thanks and congratulations and I hope to get back in the swing soon.
Mandy xxx


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Saving the Bunnies

John Deere riding lawn mowers in fields of high grass 
can sometimes be cruel to small creatures that live within.
My brother, Jimmy, twelve years old at the time,
noticed a puff of fur fly out from the side of the green beast
as he ran screaming and flailing his arms at my father.

With tears running down his cheeks,
Jimmy searched the surrounding area for other rabbits
that he could secure away from the rotating blades.
He came upon the brood of new born bunnies that
must have been the offspring of the clump of fur
now nestled in the shreds of grass.

My father tried to explain to Jimmy the futility
of trying to save four newborn rabbits,
but Jimmy would not listen as he removed his shirt
and placed the four, still furless, wet bunnies inside.

At twelve years old, Jimmy had already saved
the life of a robin from the mouth of a stray cat;
raised frogs from tadpole eggs found in the small
pond of water formed in tire tracks down the old dirt road;
helped our pet dog deliver a litter of eight puppies;
rescued a butterfly cocoon from a fallen branch;
and nursed back to health a box turtle ran over by a car 
on the road in front of our house.

With a shoebox full of grass, a light bulb for warmth,
and an eyedropper of milk, Jimmy stayed with those
bunnies day and night.

As days slipped by, eyes opened; a bigger eye dropper was needed;
lettuce was introduced to the shoe box; and furless bodies
became covered in a soft brown fur coat.

Jimmy was never one to become too attached to his patients;
he did not do what he did to try to add to his menagerie of pets.
When he was confident that the bunnies were ready to live on their own
he began his long hike into the fields, far removed from John Deere tractors,
farmers, cats and dogs; and, released the four, healthy bunnies into the world.

Twenty years later, no one was able to do for Jimmy
what he continuously did for the creatures that he so loved and adored.
We lost a good man that day.  May he rest in peace.


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My First Date

My first date was when I was 14. He was older then me. We went for a walk on the beach. That took us back to the car. Things were going great until there was a knock. That is when it all started to fall apart. Looking up like a deer in the headlights. As he suggested we leave for the night. Meeting up with some friends never would have expected my brother there. Now the date was officially done my brother is who took me home.
Cory long My first date contest carol brown


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Tim in the Skies

I woke up screaming
from one of my dreams.
Stuck my face in a pillow
to muffle the screams.	

It's hard to watch
someone else die.
Are you up there watching
as I search the sky?

I'm looking for answers.
God gives me a few.
The answers are empty
down here without you.

I should have died.
Not you my dear friend.
You just tried to help me
and I dreamed it again.

The knife in your heart.
Your eyes that just stared.
I hate to admit this
but I was so scared.

I was the first one
to fall to the floor.
Kicked,beaten,and stabbed.
But there would be more.

I curled into a ball
and I should have stayed there.
Frank and your brother appeared
and both asked me,"where?"

I pointed as they ran.
there were to many to fight.
But they both rushed right in.
It was satan's delight.

I got up and followed.
Didn't know what else to do.
I walked right through the carnage
and that's when I saw you.

You asked me what happened.
But I was out of my mind.
I said I was jumped 
and then we both looked behind.

There was your brother falling
with ten guys on him 
and like Frank and Dan
you just rushed right in.

We both watched in horror
as Dan curled into a ball.
Then you grabbed this guy
and threw him into the wall.

Then everything was slow motion.
Guys were flying through the air.
I could barely see anything 
but all I did was stare.

You were making them run
but one still wanted to fight.
That's when I rushed in.
He had this big knife.

I got there too late.
I grabbed you where you fell.
The look in your eyes
is my own private hell.

You died in my arms.
Some of me died there too.
It's been thirty years now.
Thirty years without you.

Why did it happen Lord?
Will I ever know?
Will Tim ever forgive me?
Do I want to know?

A nightmare that lives
after I close my eyes.
A dream that makes me
search for Tim in the skies.

For my Best friend Tim Gitchel who was murdered on 2/12/1979 in Oxnard CA at the 
movie theatre when we tried to see The Warriors. I miss you buddy. RIP


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The Red Kite and Wagon

Brother had made me mad so I knocked him down the basement stairs.
Choicely words he hurled my way-His teary eyes reflected pain and back at me they glared.
Like a viper he laid around the house daring me to come his way.
Sorry am I now for I have no one with to play.
After several weeks had passed, he still snarled and hissed.
Only his foot- to-hip cast kept him constantly at bay.
But I grew lonely with no brother to rumble with; no one to share my day.
Then the thought struck me as a jolt of reality-tomorrow is his birthday.
Off to Mr. Green’s corner store I went for a birthday present- I had fifty cents.
I spied a red kite- asked him to rap it and back to brother as I whistled and skipped.
I presented the little red kite which brother threw down-saying you ain’t right!
Sadly I looked for a solution of how brother can fly his new birthday kite.
It was in the backyard, positioned under the lean-to – the answer to my prayer.
I dragged it out and cleaned her with new found hope and no despair.
I carried my brother and placed him in the little red wagon with difficulty as he held his kite in hand.
The school yard was empty- we tailed the kite and then pulling the wagon I ran.
The little red kite stilled high in the air as brother and I where once again a pair.
The kite soared the faster I ran and finally at the end of the day, a brother’s love had been won again.


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My Scars

We were both 16, we shared many firsts with each other. First girl I ever kissed, First person outside of family that I told "I love you" to and we took each others virginity. We were both young and foolish but to this day I still say I honestly loved you. The day you told me you never cared for me the day when you told me it was all just a game was the day I cut my first scar into my arm. I knew you longer then my own brother. We were best friends grew up together, we even got a house when we both left the "nest". Those were the best 3 years of my life we became brothers we became blood. The last day we ever talked is the saddest day in my life, even to this day I cry when I think about you walking away. The scar you gave me stands out from the rest, it's deeper and longer then the others. You were my star I gave you everything I had. I would of walked through the pits of hell just to see your smile. I thought you were the one, I thought we had a future and would be together forever. But one day I came home early to surprise you with this ring, yes I was going to ask you to marry me. When I walked into the house my heart was shattered and blown away by the wind. The image of the two of you is burned into my brain I did not say a word just dropped the ring on the floor and walked right back out the door. The pain of the knife cutting into my arm shocks me out of my thoughts. I watch the blood begin to drip onto the floor this makes 13. 13 scars on my arm


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SEA TO SHINNING SEA

SEA TO SHINNING SEA,
 
...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
 
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
 
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
 
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
sparkles,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
 
...gazing
 
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
 
being so true...
 
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
 
Sea to shinning Sea.
 
mb(2011)
 


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THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER

Written for Grace Keithley-Lee to express her thoughts on a particular matter

THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER I want to express my thoughts On this matter at hand A matter concerning A relationship of a good man Though it’s not my business To interfere or say what’s what He happens to be my brother I feel his pain down in my gut The relationship started off With so much love flowing They were the perfect couple And all could see them glowing Their happiness was an example That inspired me all the time To know that a good relationship I certainly would also be able to find I did find my true love About three years ago At that time their love Was still perfectly so I really don’t know Where it all went wrong A seemingly perfect love Now ending and saying so long It really matters not why Or what the reasons may be We should wish them the best In both their separate journeys Sure everyone has their sides To the story as it now goes It is really just between them Their feelings no one knows We should not speculate Of who did what or would Or even dig around for the dirt We should only remember the good There is good and bad in everything That’s one thing we all know is true They both need our support because Breaking up is hard enough to do There is no need in degrading To either one or the other The cruelty of the words Are painful to my brother Sometimes relationships Just need to come to an end Even if both are good people We can still lose a good friend Things were said in a hurtful way And were not really necessary Now I’ve also lost a close friend And that really does hurt to me Just a note now that it is over It was her choice to walk away I choose to remember the good No matter what any others say I ask all of you to please Let them handle it, if you will With moving ahead in their futures Letting their hearts to begin to heal Florence McMillian (Flo)


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There is Life Beyond Death's Door Part IV- (Most Awesome Paranormal Experience)

stammered, “Because, if Brian ran away, I saw him earlier today, downtown!  And  
he bought me an ice cream cone! And we talked and were even laughing at a joke 
I’d just told!  He was all dressed up and I asked him where he was going all 
dressed up on a Saturday. He just laughed and said that, he was on an errand and 
he was going back home. He said that he would see me later.  Then I said that I 
would come by to tell him about the trip. We said good bye and he walked away!

Papa’s face turned to stone as he starred in silence, and poor Thomas just stood in 
that spot like a statute.  My oldest sister or someone asked him what kind of 
clothing Brian was wearing.  He answered that Brian was wearing a grey suit, white 
shirt and a burgundy bow tie! He described the outfit down to the shoes Brian 
wore. With that said, Papa, wide-eyed called was rising out of his chair in slow 
motion as he called out to Mama to come and hear this.  Slowly, his tall frame stood 
in silence. Those were the exact clothes that Brian was buried in. There is no way 
Thomas could have known what kind of clothing Brian had been buried in because; 
his parents weren’t at home when he returned from camp.  He had returned much 
earlier than was expected. He didn’t unpack his bags, being in a hurry to get to the 
store downtown as they closed early on Saturdays. After, he would go and visit 
Brian to share about the trip.  Brian’s burial clothes were all new and made by the 
local tailor!  Thomas ran out of the house and my Father ran after him. The grieving 
had begun all over again. We never did see our dog, Blackie again.  The following 
year we moved away.  I am grateful for memories because even though my brother 
Brian died long ago, I still remember his handsome face, even his voice, the way he 
walked, his beautiful smile, and the many times he would carry me up on his 
shoulders to safety in escaping from an abusive uncle.

Next time I see my brother Brian, we will be together again, this time forever.


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Stormy Christmas Eve

A Stormy Christmas Eve It had been snowing all day and the skies were looking glum. My mama started crying when the mailman didn’t come. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day; Dad said, “I’ll ride to town.” He put his warm raccoon coat on and pulled his big hat down. Then my mama began to fret. I saw her fingers drumming. “Do you think that you really should? I fear a storm is coming”. My daddy said, “I’ll be okay if I am riding Dan. You know that horse will find the way. He’s smarter than a man.” Then Mama gave him a big kiss and said, “Now do take care.” She waved him off into the storm and wiped away her tear. My mama plucked the turkey and kept looking at the clock while little brother prattled on about his Christmas sock. The storm was growing stronger and the light turned into dark, while I was just a wishing I would hear old Ringo bark. Mama lit the kerosene lamp and started slicing bread. “I should have told him Christmas could be late.” I think she said. About then I heard Ringo bark and saw my mama smile. I knew I’d hear my daddy at the back door in a while. That horse of Daddy’s brought him safely home through blowing storm. He said that he was glad to be back home where it was warm. Then he said he’d met a stranger while on his homeward way. He recognized old Santa Claus with reindeer and red sleigh. Santa said he would be happy to lighten up his pack and be obliged if Daddy would relieve him of plump sack. So little brother went to bed to wake to a surprise from Santa Claus whom our Daddy had seen with his own eyes. By Joyce Johnson (inspired by “Seein’ Santa” picture)


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An Old Photo

That still fresh old photograph of you
astride a spotted pony, bare feet
dangling as limply as your torn dress:
the background was a high veranda,
cool green trimmed with gingerbread.

A small boy sat the animal with you --
two solemn and handsome children
upon a well-fed pony, photographed
by an itinerant in the thirties --
the time frozen as long as the picture
or our fading memories of it may last.

The boy, our brother,
did little in his forty years;
but now, we see his boy's eyes,
soft, liquid, serious, sad,
no hint of smile about them;
we weep his loss.

And you, sister:
alert, protective, girl's face
set to fend off the world --
cast so early in your role
as the family glue
holding us all together.


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Digger

It was on my way home from school
         Up the trail on Broken Oak hill
           That overlooks Herbert Hoover High School's baseball field
               Where I could never hope to play..
           
                    I stood and watched my brother on the pitcher's mound...
                                                                                                                                    
With profound, tangible, and my tom-girl attitude...
                         I looked on, with green-eyed envy....

It was then I caught my first glimpse of you
      Huddled in the drainage ditch
        Among the sodden seeth of leaves

I turned quickly....afraid you might take a bite
Of the heel of my magic Keds...that would sweep my feet away like wings of a hawk...

Instead..like lightning...you were beside me...
Tail wagging, as if we were meant to be...side by side...
Two of us sprinting over the stretch of road
        Feet scarcely touching the ground...lickety split....
           Down the hill, around the bend...across the nettled field that took me home

Of course...it took a bit of convincing...
       Begging, pleading, cajoling, 
         Offers of impossible and implausable promises...
           But YES! I was allowed to keep you!
            You were MINE!!   I named you 'Ditch Digger'....
               Never was I happier!!....
                 And even better....
                   was the simple fact...
                       that for the first time....
                          my brother looked on with green eyed-envy........


----------------------------------------------------------------
For the contest "Somewhere a Pet is Waiting"
Sponsored by A Rambling Poet


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Change of Plans

Pete always greeted me politely, but without enthusiasm.
Between fourteen and eighteen years is an unbreachable chasm.
He was my older brother’s good friend and was often at our place.
I flirted with him, teased him and even got into his face.
He treated me as kindly as my own big brothers did.
I know now he must have thought of me as an annoying kid.

As time went on and I grew older, I learned to act with more decorum.
To no one did I divulge the fact that I was yearning for him.
He invaded all my daydreams and disturbed my sleep at night.
I knew that once he noticed me, his arms would feel so right.
To me he was as handsome as any beloved movie hero
And I vowed that when he came for me, I’d just get up and go.

In time my brothers left home and their friends no longer called.
I missed my brothers and their friends so much, sometimes I sat and bawled.
I thought often of my lost love and of my romantic dreams,
but young hearts will heal in time while sweet memory remains.
Before too long my heart was mended by a boy with laughing eyes.
When he put his arms around me they were just the perfect size.

Meanwhile, my Pete had moved away to a very far off state.
My brother heard from him sometimes and kept me up to date.
He had a wife and family and his life was a success.
Hearing how well he’d done without me, hurt a bit I will confess, 
until my brother told a secret that he hadn’t told before.
It was something Pete once told him in those golden days of yore.

Teasing him my brother asked why he'd had no girl and kissed her.
Pete’s answer quite surprised him. “ I am waiting for your sister”.
So though I wouldn’t change a thing in the life I have today,
I must tell you since you asked me, “Pete’s the one who got away.








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There is Life Beyond Death's Door Part II

missing dog, Blackie. Besides the sound of our voices, the hymns playing softly in the 
background, the noise made by the porcelain plates as Mama wiped and put them 
away, the humming of the refrigerator’s motor, the house was quiet.  No body knew 
what had happened to Blackie.  We were really concerned about the whereabouts 
of the dog, even though Papa had assured us that he would return at some point.  
Since the funeral, he had vanished.  Even the old man who lived across the street 
from us and who loved Blackie, had not seen him, nor had any of the other 
neighbors. We had searched in all the usual places.  He had never run away from 
home before.  As far as I remember, Blackie never did come back home.

As Papa sat in his usual chair, quietly playing with the food on his plate, the kitchen 
door opened, and in walked Thomas, Brian’s best friend. They were the same age, 
and were very close even though they did not attend the same school, or the same 
church. The two had become friends since they met at a Junior Boys Scouts meeting 
at the age of seven. Thomas lived some distance away but they maintained a 
special friendship.  Out of school, wherever Brian was, so Thomas would be. They’d 
both turned fourteen last September. Throughout those years they still were active 
members of the Boys Scout, and had risen together in rank. Thomas had been away 
on the recent Scouting trip. They had traveled to a neighboring country for a Scouts’ 
Jamboree. Brian should have gone too but something to do with school exams came 
up so he couldn’t go.  Thomas had just returned from the Jamboree that Saturday 
afternoon, the second week after Brian’s burial. Lena, Reggie and I got out of 
our chairs and ran to greet him. It was like welcoming him and Brian home as the 
two were always together. He picked Lena up as he greeted our parents.  Mama 
standing at the sink, turned around, took one look at him and walked briskly, almost 
running out of the kitchen, with my other sister in tow.

Papa greeted Thomas, his voice almost inaudible.  Thomas looked puzzled. I guess 
he thought he had walked in during a family argument. He was about to turn back 
and walk out because he felt a little intrusive, I guess.  It was extremely quiet in the 
room; very unusual when everyone was in Mama’s kitchen at the same time.  And 
Mama, walking


Details | Narrative | |

There is Life Beyond Death's Door Part III

away like she did, made him ask what was going on. That yielded no response. The 
silence hung heavily in the kitchen. Finally, he asked, “Is Brian in his room?”  He 
looked at my oldest sister, Winnie who sat next to Papa. She didn’t respond. 
Instead, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  Thomas was as tall as Brian.  
At 14years old, they were 6’ tall. Winnie bowed her head to hide her tears.  She 
looked down at her plate before her. Thomas turned halfway around and was about 
to head towards the door leading towards Brian’s room, when Papa let out a deep, 
long sigh and motioned to Thomas to come sit next to him. Winnie got up to give 
Thomas her chair and Papa, with his voice low and cracked, told Thomas that his 
best friend had passed away. The humming of the fridge seemed much louder 
then.   Looking back now, seeing Thomas’s face, I knew he wanted to laugh but he 
stopped just short of that, and his countenance changed in an instant! A painful 
grimace appeared on his face.  His voice became shaky as he tried to mumble 
something.  He looked at each of us as if checking each face to see if someone 
would soon break into laughter, at this absurd joke. After a while, he took a deep 
breath, convinced now, that he was reading everyone’s face correctly. Brian’s Dad 
wouldn’t joke about something like this. He thought to himself. Then all the reactions 
he had seen as he entered the kitchen, finally registered, confirming that this was 
not a joke.  He nearly fell out of the chair, as it toppled over to the floor.  He began 
retreating slowly towards the kitchen door; his whole body still visibly shaking, he 
said loudly, shaking his head in disagreement, that it wasn’t possible.  “It is just not 
possible!” He shouted. Yet, there was no response.  Winnie was sobbing, tears 
rolling down her face.  He then asked if Brian had run away or something. Still the 
room was as quiet as a tomb. Not a sound from anyone, only the constant humming 
and the hymns being played on the local Christian radio station softly wafted across 
the room. He then blurted out, “Because,” he


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FLESH AND BLOOD

He is my flesh and blood
For we are forever connected
Troubled from birth, he knows no peace
He dreams of a normal life
Yet instead he is forced to live in constant pain

When I look in to his eyes
I see his beautiful soul
For he is slowly drowning
With every passing day he loses strength
I want to save him, but I can’t imagine how

I sit on the sidelines, watching the world pass him by
I live in constant fear and sorrow 
For he is my flesh and blood 
Wondering will this boy ever be free

Such a gifted and caring person
His brain his very own prison
He has never harmed anyone so why is he condemned to live the live he lives?
He wants to be normal
He DREAMS of being happy

He is my flesh
He is my blood
I wonder everyday if today is the day that we must part

I have never loved someone
Who I hate just as much

The bruises always fade
The hysteria always clams
Injuries heal
But my heart will forever always be scarred… 


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Gunfight in a Frontier Town

Chic Waco was the marshal of our little town.
   Stood near six-two and usually sported a frown.
Never said a lot but what he said, was said mighty clear.
    Most likely if he was talking to you, it was something you wasn't wanting to hear.
Chic was a mighty good marshal and did his job the best he could,
    There were those that gave him problems and he'd let them know just where 
they stood.
This one good for nothing family were as ornery as could be.
    When they got to drinking they'd threaten anybody they would see.
That's when Waco usually always earned his keep.
    Most times them boys didn't want to go quietly, so Waco would just rap them 
on the head, and pile them in a heap.
Them Trusdale boys packed an awful fierce grudge and just wouldn't let it lie.
    When they got sobered up they said reckon that marshals just gonna have to 
die.
Well they thought and they planned for about a month and a half.
    Then the youngest got caught stealing a Circle D calf.
He was brought to town and sentenced to hang.
    Word got out ain't no Trusdale, what would ever swing.
They said marshal if you try to hang our little brother Jack.
    You just painted a bulls eye on the middle of your back.
Well that didn't set well at all with Waco and he told em flat out don't be a 
threatening me.
   If your wantin gunplay just whip em on out, then we'll all get to see.
Chic said Trusdales I'm calling your bluff.
    He said you're backshootin, yellowbellys, and you ain't got the stuff.
Bout that time the oldest I think they called him Will.
    Reached for his iron with intent to kill.
Waco saw him reach and he shot him dead.
    Then he felt the bullet that was fired by Will's brother Red.
It didn't do much damage it was fired in haste.
 Then Waco pointed at Red and let him have a taste.
The only brother left was a shaking like a dog.
   Waco looked at him and said scat on out a here before I unleash this hog.
Little brother Jack they hung him out back.
    The one that ran somebody found dead , snakebit outside their old shack.
Reckon that the moral of this story is don't mess with Chic Waco
    Reckon them Trusdales hadn't heard in Chics younger days he was known as 
Kid Wacko!


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five sec in my life

just like any other day, going to the market, mom, me, and my brother my life.
talking with my mother as i notice the armored car, i saw a guard go in no cross in 
my mind anything could go wrong.
got off the truck. my brother behind me like always no big deal, first to go in the 
store were me and my mom as the gaurd past by us with 3 bags of money in a dolly 
i cared less but two seconds later.
"move away now" those words hit me hard it triggerd a nerve, blood boiled ready 
for a fight, rage, anger it all got collect so fast when i turned back and saw the 
rookie guard reaching for his gun and my little brother standing in front of him.
first sec, where were the cameras, how far was the armored truck who else was 
around, wht was around me.
second sec, i was faster and stronger than tht guard i could easyly take him down if 
i got next to him, i could run rush him n smash him against the candy stands.
thrid sec, i rush him he pulls the gun i smash him in the candy stand take the gun 
and shoot him down for even trying to reach for a gun at my brother.
fourth sec, run at him and just beat the crap out of him intill i got pulled off.
fifth sec, how would i explain my action, self defense? i just was trying to protect my 
brother i just got blinded with fear of my brother? i thought of so many things to say 
for my action for wht, i was going.
"move away" he said it in a lower voice and my brother just stepped aside,
i dont know becuase he lowered his voice, tht safed him from me taking action, what 
if would of yelled it again? would of i taken action?
thats something i think about because when it has come to my brother i care, i 
protect him with all my might n yes my life. but i always have tht question in my 
head  "wht if".


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There is Life Beyond Death's Door

Mama stood at the kitchen sink, quietly drying the dishes and putting them away.  I 
knew 
she was crying because every now and then she would wipe her eyes with the hem 
of her 
apron.  She hadn’t been eating much, lately. She looked so tired and drained.  She 
was a 
tall, beautiful woman.  At 40 years old she looked as if she had just turned 30.  She 
was on a 
leave of absence and had been keeping busy around the house, constantly 
cleaning, 
scrubbing and washing.  In hindsight, now I know she was only trying to keep busy 
so she 
wouldn’t think about her first born son. Mama had slept so much the week before. I 
remember wondering, back then, asking myself, was she also sick?  I was too afraid 
to ask 
out loud.  I would lie next to her in her bed and watch her sleep.  Her stirring 
reinsured me 
that she was fine-only sleeping.  You see, my oldest sister, Winnie, after Brian died, 
had 
explained to me what dying was.  So then I knew that dying was like sleeping, only 
you 
never wake up. I was not going to let my Mama die also. I would bring into her bed, 
my 
coloring books and pencils and would sit on that bed until she woke up. Sometimes, 
I would 
fall asleep, then awake to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, saying her rosary 
and I 
would join her. In some ways I was like Mama.  We were both of quiet spirits but 
she was 
strong and also an extrovert.  She made friends easily.  I on the other hand, was 
shy, 
stubborn and introverted. Later on as I got older, our personality would clash on 
many 
occasions.

It was a Saturday afternoon in May.  We were all sitting at the kitchen table.  We, 
kids were 
eating all the sweets because Mama and Papa were distracted. There was still 
plenty of food 
left over from the week before. Mama’s many friends had really showered her with 
love.  
They had cooked and cleaned and comforted her as much as they could. Mama and 
Papa 
very seldom ate any food, which seemed to last forever. My older siblings were lost 
in their 
own thoughts and grief, my younger sister, Lena, my cousin Reggie and I ate 
heartily of 
anything we liked. Being the youngest of the group, we did not fully understand 
what was 
going on.  We were talking amongst ourselves about our


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Within Your Reach

A loving heart you have always had,
it shows in many ways,
and I will hold you dearly,
until my final days.

A brother by blood you, and I,
to walk side by side,
you helped me through some trying times,
with words you tried to guide.

Sometimes I listened to what you said,
and followed your advice,
then sometimes I didn't,
you just wanted me to do right.

You are so independent,
never needing to much help,
I guess in your silence,
tears you must have wept.

I was always  the loud one,
and I needed people around,
you are so private,
your thoughts so safe, and sound.

I just wanted to tell you,
how special you are to me,
and if you ever need me,
I'll be right here always within your reach.


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We all stand alone

When all of time has elapsed & the moment for us will be no more
No, plight of fancy given hence to even ponder the ego
An explosion of sorts that marked a pulse on some plotted page
The door way of hope where no one bothered to offer your way
Through pillage of inner torment many will stand at heaven's door
With no intention of ever entering yet their will be w vast chasm to explore
A new exploration of that of content in nature

We have planted our seeds
Now is the time we will wait for the harvest to grow
Through vast fruition in timely exploits we will search further then ever before
To never relent in the place we will reach which will be in effect heaven's door
A given chance at which to humbly explore
A challenge to be made free is a question in time
Hope knows just where the stained glass window adjorned next to it's borrowed pew

To name just a few from the sheltered dormant of the chasm again
The given chance at which to humbly bow the head to count to the number ten
We must search ever vigilant to look within once again
Is their something that I had missed
Perhaps a fond lady that I was ever sorry that I had kissed
We stand alone on the promises of God
As we search within again
The given sphere on the oblonged gem'
Through portals of jest timely circumstances
We search even further then ever before

Through golden portals of emmense filled water that has been quenched to humbly 
nurture the inner palate'
Abounding in ever more stimulation,
We may need a break on some long awaited vacation
Then again to wander within
We all stand alone in that final day
One may never get a second chance at which to ever bow the knee to pray ?
Yet its all safe to say that it never had to be this way.


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Once Upon a Christmas 1954 Part 1

.              Each year as Christmas rolls around, as I buckle under the pressure and stress of 
shopping for gifts for people that already  have everything, I find myself remembering that 
Christmas of 1954.

	Dad had joined the army that year and we  moved from the East Coast of Canada 
to Ontario, leaving behind our extended family and the only home I had ever know in a small 
fishing village along the Bay of Fundy.

	Now we stood gazing in horror at the rows of ugly buildings sitting on barren land 
in the middle of nowhere.  This was the housing provided by the army and was a major part 
of the wage agreement.

	My mother was inconsolable until dad rented us a small apartment over a Chinese 
restaurant in downtown Barrie.  There was no remuneration by the army for forfeiting the 
housing, so it left dad with a very small pay-check

	Pay day was once a month and we usually ran out of money in the last week, so, 
off we would go to the pawn shop with dad’s prized possession; his short-wave radio, won for 
superior marksmanship.

	Being kids, we finally adjusted to our new world as we watched the Santa Claus 
Parade march below our living room window amid the honking horns, blaring bands and 
throngs of people lined along the streets as far as the eye could see as we laughed with glee.

		                              ~~~
	
	We had seen them on our way to school in the window of the bicycle shop; 
gleaming with chrome spokes and handlebars and hand grips adorned with multi-colored 
streamers.  There I would stand until my feet grew numb from the cold, daydreaming of 
riding back to the East Coast.  I could actually see the sun glistening on the waves as I raced 
along the ocean on the way to grandma’s house.  More than once I had to stay after school 
for being late. 

	My brother thought maybe if we were really good, Santa would bring those 
bicycles to us.  I being the older and therefore the wiser, knew the state of the real Santa’s 
affairs and promptly convinced my brother I had heard from a reliable source Santa had a 
shortage of bicycles this year and we would just have to earn the money and buy them 
ourselves.


                                                    Continued in part 2....


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My Brother

MY BROTHER:

               Used to think that God's name was "Harold,"

                         you know, after the prayer:

       "Our Father, whom art in heaven, HALLOWED be Thy name."

           (When he learned of his error, he was never the same.)

One time when I was three years old my parents wanted to go look at a house they were 
thinking of buying and they couldn't find

MY BROTHER:

              so they just left and took me. I was three. When we got back

MY BROTHER:

                  was sobbing so hard he was sick.

MY BROTHER:

                thought we had moved without him, abandoned him.

                                          HE WAS SIX

MY BROTHER:
    
                     Got my mother's beauty and my father's genius.
           (I got my father's looks *%#@%^ and my mother's brains #%@&*^)

MY BROTHER:

                     Also got my mother's insanity and my father's alcoholism.
                            (I guess I won, having inherited their stoicism.)

MY BROTHER:

                Was a comic genius. He was so funny, he could make a dog laugh.

MY BROTHER:

                         Was such a tragic figure, he made the angels weep.

MY BROTHER:

                       Is gone now, and I have only these odd memories to keep.


©Danielle White


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making it great in 2008 (part 21): help a brother out

the rumor was noised about that Jesus was on site
and the spreading of the word was faster than the speed of light
Jesus was in the house preaching the Holy Word
telling the people about things of which they had never heard
when Jesus is in the house the atmosphere is electrified
the Holy Spirit is present and all things are amplified
a transformation is on the horizon
if of Jesus the Christ you keep your eyes on

excited, expectant and enthusiast
knowing that the Messiah was here at last
inspired and encouraged were 4 men who were most devout
looking for a way to help a brother out
their friend was paralyzed and needed spiritual assistance
so they went to see Jesus in a manner most persistent
the house was overcrowded and through the door they could not enter
so they cut a hole in the roof and lowered their friend down front and center
they placed him with his mat right in front of Jesus the Christ
praying and hoping for a miracle to take place in his life
Jesus then said "your sins are forgiven, stand and arise"
the Pharisees were most critical until they came to realize
that standing before them was God's righteous Son
Jesus the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed One

to have compassion and to care for your fellow man
to help a brother out in anyway that you can
to be willing to climb up on a roof and lower someone down
just to be in the presence of Jesus standing on sacred ground
to have cooperation and coordination to work in unity
to know that together we can claim the victory
for no man is an island and we all need one another
so do what you can in order to help out a brother

to collaborate with others despite your personal feelings
to get the job done so that we all can get some healing
with cooperation, coordination and collaboration first in mind
those 4 friends were determined that of Jesus they would find
with true faith, total trust and nary a doubt 
they did what was needed to help a brother out
by any means necessary with a radical concept
they did a risky thing that no one would ever expect
Jesus looked at that paralytic and immediately dealt with his sin
for in order to be healed you must start with the spirit within
and after the absolution He told him to stand and arise
and all who were present were amazed and stupefied
so when you walk with Jesus walk without doubt
and trust that the Lord will help a brother out


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Brian Emil Carey

Brian Emil, my Brother, 
Tall, lean and handsome with
Beautiful almond-shaped eyes,
Always wearing a perfect smile
You never hurt a fly
My protector, my friend
Mama’s handy man
At such a young age
What special gifts you possessed
From fixing radios and ovens
Pianos and furniture
Every thing that broke you mended
And handled with such care
I only knew you eight years of
The fourteen you spent here on earth
Sweet memories of you live abundant 
In my heart after all this time
I remember you just as you were
I love you Brian, I always will

To my Brother Brian (RIP)-went home in many years ago.


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Two Brothers

There were once two brothers
Who may have had different mothers
But they still regarded each other with a lot of love
They were not that alike, as some people thought of

You see, one was gentle and kind
He always had a peaceful mind
While the other was so fierce, so bold
Even though he and his sibling were only four years old

One was closer to his mother
But on the other hand his brother
Felt more closer to their dad
Than any other sibling ever had

They each had their own little friend
One took their friend to the movies on the weekends
While the other did his very best
To try and study for every big school test

Even though they were not exactly the same
They still enjoyed each other's company, played video games
They made absolutely sure that even though their mothers
Did not get along, they would always be brothers


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The Might Of A Man...

The Strength of A Man
… is in His Eyes and Arms
And in His Harvest hands
… to Hope, Heal, or Harm

… Look into His Eyes and See The Storm
Will You Be Safe… in Sinew-Arms?
He Can Use His Hands to Help His Girl
But He’s Used This Strength to Harm The World…

The Power of A Man
Is in His Legs and Loins
In His Tongue to Command
And The Seed in His Groin

Every Woman On Earth, Has Felt Man’s Pulse
Or Pleasure – Pain…One Way or Another - Push!... Push!
Do What He Says, to Pull The Pressure
… He’s Pouring Passion, into His Pasture

The Force of A Man
Shows in His Face
The Way, He Walks or Stands
In The Human Race

He’s A Walking, Breathing, Forest-Fire
He’ll Burn You Up… with His Desire
See, The Way His Veins-Pop… Stands Out…
If A Tree  is Torn Down… Better ‘T I M B E R’ Shout !...

But The Might of A Man
Is in His Heart to Love;
And Mind, to Understand
The Higher Chamber Above…

With Spirit, Flesh, Blood, Bone
Might, Power, Force, Strength
… and A Woman, to Help Man Put On…
Some Breadth, Height, Depth and Width…

The Marvelous Might Of A Man


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To The Band Of Brothers From Viet Nam

  
What did I do when I was a kid?
    Loved life, had fun that’s what I did.
Enjoyed what I had, and had what I enjoyed.
    Never to be bothered seldom ever annoyed.
Stood tall, felt proud, proud of this country, The Home Of The Free!
    Proud to be an American, lucky to be a part of such a great society.
Then something happened that ripped this country apart.
    It was called a police action but it ripped and tore at the very soul of this country 
it tore at her heart.
 Was it right or was it wrong?
    So many mixed emotions were played out in the words of yesteryears songs.
The seventy’s brought on free love, drugs, and the start of a decline in our morals 
in this story.
    Viet Nam brought both shame and honor, but very little was given in the name 
of glory.
Many young Americans lost their life or were crippled and maimed.
   And had to come home to a country that held them in contempt or made them 
feel ashamed.
They were pushed aside refused work treated like second class dirt.
    And what did they do they too had feelings they too could hurt.
We blamed our soldiers instead of the politicians that sent them there.
    They were the ones that were dying but no one seemed to care.
So to the Viet Nam Vets I say I for one am proud of you this very day.
   And may God Bless you all each and every one is the prayer for you I pray.
And maybe someday there will no longer be wars are reason for blood shed.
   In thanks to The Band Of Brothers from Nam we should all give thanks as we 
bow our heads.


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Transaltor

Transaltor
A Dialect Poem
The Transaltor is here again Sahib he has something to say to thee. Jobor is 
speaking.
Transaltor is speaking: Sahib eye must travel many moons to visit the aged yew 
it must be hard to understand the English of this madman he is typo mad he 
makes eye the I the pronoun and the ewe his wife she must be happy to have 
him oh wait no we cannot judge a poet it must be style to bring a smile to every 
poets faces
Sahib speaks now: just tell me he sent me message and disturbed my aged 
wisdom in my places that eye visit are we still friends
Jobor speaks again:
Yes Sahib he would not answer thus without a reason.
Narrator speaks to crowd: What devotion if his servant is thus happy with this 
poet than he must have a very good reason to speak so off the wall and seem so 
badly wronging them
Transaltor says YES it seems so he says he is very sorry he called yew the back 
end of a camel can we still be friends my friend
Sahib says YES


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The Blizzard

Mama was just saying, " I guess 
the forecaster was wrong",
when the storm struck.
It came from a clear blue sky.
The sun had shone on one
of those false spring days
that sometimes come in March,
on the North Dakota prairies. 

Spring was abolished instantly.
The Arctic wind picked up snow,
hurling it at anything 
in its pathway, and though
we were safely home, we
worried about those who were
shopping and had lingered over
coffee in the cafe.

We knew that my brother and his
wife and two children 
were among these stragglers.
There was no way  we could check. 
The phones were out 
with that first blast.

Daddy tied himself to a long rope
to get to the coal pile.
We sere safe,
but knew nothing of others.
It would be two days before
phones were restored,
roads cleared and news came
that my brother and family
were safe.

Others were not so fortunate.
Some died in their cars.  Those
who left their cars perished anyway. 
March 15, 1941. My last big storm.
I married and moved away
that summer.


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They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse _ _ _ _
Now, they’re Looking for Us
Up and down the Street
Drive-By-Boys …. Packin’ Heat !

We Dissed’ A Gang-Sign
They Took… What was Mine
Left a Blood-Soaked Message
On A Pain Wracked-Package

… Is He Breathin’ ?
… or is He Leavin’ _ _ _ _
If He is… Then He Must _____
‘Cause They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse
Which left Us  Furious
Gotta’ Let em’ Know, We’ Serious
Do Somethin’ – Delirious

… We gon’ Take They Pulse !
Gon’ do something Perilous !
So – Infamous  !
… we took each other’s pulse _ _ _ _


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How Do They Sleep

Not a day goes by , my thoughts are not with you,
thinking maybe, someone will have the guts, and 
courage to say, "OK, I was wrong."
Daily our troops are killed, and  wounded so bad,
trying to start their life over, but it will never be what they had.
Is this a war for peace, or a war for oil, all I know for sure,
our tempers are ready to boil.  
Our leaders are backing up, when it comes to our troops,
but they don't have a problem sleeping, for what they do.
How many now have been killed in this war,
How many now will never walk,
How many now can't see their children,
How many now have been abandoned,
How many now have been burned,
How many now can't hold their wife,
How many now can't get help,
I think our country has done enough,
If they can't handle their problem,
well that's just tough.
Our troops, our money, our sacrifice,
something here is not right.
Their land, their oil, and they keep it all.
Somebody better open their eyes, and
then maybe explain to a mother, why her child had to die.