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Narrative Girl Poems | Narrative Poems About Girl

These Narrative Girl poems are examples of Narrative poems about Girl. These are the best examples of Narrative Girl poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Sweetest Love Note

One night a guy & a girl were
driving home from the movies. The
boy sensed there was
something wrong because of the painful
silence they shared between them
that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over
because she wanted to talk. She told him that her
feelings had changed & that it was time to move on.
A silent tear slid down his cheek as he
slowly reached into his pocket & passed her a folded note.
At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down
that very same street. He swerved
right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.
Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she
pulled it out & read it.
"Without your love, I would die."


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Let Her Dream

She'd smile sometimes in that rocking chair
I'd wonder what was going through her mind
Sometimes joking with her about going cruising
Radio blasting, and she'd laugh
Get a six pack, Peggy, and we'll put the top down
I'd watch her eyes light up and she'd be back there
Doctors say it won't be long
But for a while, Peggy was a girl again
So let her dream
Let her dream of days long past, memory fading
Childhood fantasies, little girl laughter
Let her dream
Hey! How's my girl, ready to go
Big smile and a “Yeah” then fade off
So let her dream.
Stopped in one day and they told me Peggy's gone
Life's too short no matter what the years
Said a prayer, shed a tear and asked Our Lord
Please let her dream.


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To Elizabeth

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eye'd,
Such seems your beauty still. 
~ William Shakespeare


I have looked into the mirror
Looking for a trace....a trace of my youth
A trace of the girl that I used to be...
Is she there?  Buried deep? Is she still part of me?

Years can't be halted, change can't erase..
And there...in my face, are the lines of experience
Stories and time...I see staring back at me
A part of me wants to grieve for that girl
The girl that I was..   Has she vanished for good?

Oh, I do understand....
That I can't hang on to "then"..
To days long ago, when time was our friend
When summers, together,  seemed never to end
But, then............ , here by chance, we meet up once again.....

Our friendship born in childhood..so young, and carefree
You...with bright eyes, and brown hair that fell long
Around your high cheeks ...and a wide, gamin smile!
You were the one who's light shined so brightly
Who's charm, laugh, and wisdom I fondly admired
A girlhood where we danced together in sweet grass under sunny skies
And under nighttime stadium lights, to the music of the high school band

After years, that have taken us to separate worlds
In my mind, and in my dreams you have always been
The fair maiden, the one who held my hand
Two girls who made promises...who sat in the dark, under a summer sky
And talked of our "somedays", of our future, our hopes
By the light of the moon, we wished upon the stars

Now here in this moment, I have found you again
And here in this moment, I have found "me" again....
I can be that girl again....as we share our history
our moment in the sun, ....I am "her", again!..
I can be that child, I can be fifteen, I can wear a crown, upon a teenaged throne... 
And I can still dance to the sound of the drum, and the tuba,
I can sing football songs, and gossip about the boys, 
   and make fun of the stuck-up girls
     and laugh about the teachers we didn't like, 
                   and about the night of the prom, when I cried in your arms

I can hear Johnny Mathis singing "Misty", and the words will make me weep
       I can hear "Canadian Sunset" as it lulls me off to sleep

Perhaps the stars have faded a bit...but beyond the weary miles
They still shine when I look into your eyes...my dear friend, from the past...
They will shine through the ages.........where a summer will always  last....
         
                      ~                                    ~


For Frank's Contest:


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Wild Flower

Wild Flower
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 In Death Of A Rose by Nate Spears
 
Rescue this sunflower
It's capable of being a ray of light
Nurture it, value it, and love it
Its petals are more delicate than they appear in sight
 
 A wild flower it is; but it displays beauty
The facts of its species remain unknown
Its fight to reach its true potential is admired
It’ birth to existence is undetermined
 It’s roots shows trauma
Its presentation brings hesitates to potential caregivers
No one's prepared to take a chance
This flower is destined to win
 
All earthly roots sprout from above
At some point in a life’s span; we could use a kiss or hug
 He who refuses to display any element of the wild
Is merely real
An artificial representation of life
Stuck in Styrofoam surrounded by fake moss and dust
No breath, no soul, non-existence
A human being choked from an outer dimension.
Rescue this wild flower with love.


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Me Myself I

                        A girl was born a beautiful summer day
                 She had beautiful blue eyes and light curly hair
                            The girl ...... it was me myself I
                      My mother has told me that I was a kind
                                     and happy baby
                    The baby became a chubby girl who liked to
                          play with soft teddy bears and dolls
                           Chaunted and singing all day long,
                                 yes I was a happy little girl


                             When I was seven years old and the
                                 commitments hour had come
                       First day at school, dressed in a dress with
                                  flowers and ribbon in my hair
                        I wanted out of the classroom, I wanted to be
                      free to play, sing and dance.... be free like a bird
                          Plus, minus and A-B-C... yes it all could wait
                      School years passed by and I learned: plus, minus,
                                   A-B-C and more than that


                   "Almost adult" - a teenager, yes waithing for the time
             Girls with menstruation, and acne wich we covered with powder
                         Boys with pimples, wich reflects like flashlights
                           Girls who "giggled" of everything and nothing
                          Boys who speakes with deep voices that bursts
                                     Interested in the opposite sex
                                       It`s was an exciting time ... 
                                     Distance love, blushing cheeks
                                              Will you be mine?
                             Go hand in hand and perhaps a gentle kiss
                               Heartbreaks....well who has been there?


                But as in a fairytales the princess meets her prince, they are
                   in love....married... and have many other commitments,
                                         work, home and children
                               Fairytales have always a happy ending
                                          What about the reality?






02212012
A-L Andresen


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A Woman's Worth

A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears


Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
She works
She cleans
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
The house 
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth 
I’m giving you


Despite of all the stress 
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman 
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.


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The Christmas Kiss

I was sitting in the crowded train station with time to waste, waiting on the train to take me home on Christmas Eve.  A very pretty, young lady, carrying a full backpack headed for one of the only open seats across the aisle from me next to a rather dirty and disheveled older man.

As she removed her backpack to sit down he glared up at her; she smiled a beautiful bright smile and said to him, “Merry Christmas”.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas”, he barked up at her.

“Yeah?  Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy on the day that I celebrate Christmas.  And I hope the day is merry for you as well.”

“What is there to be merry about”, he moaned, “A bunch of hypocritical religious zealots pretending to be nice to one another while the world goes to hell in a hand basket.”

“Well, at least for that one day, most of us believe the hypocrisy, and even for just a few hours, we practice the morals that our religion tries to instill in us.  At least on that one day, for us religious zealots, there is a glimmer of hope that we can save the world from going to hell and, I, for one, believe that is reason to be merry.”

“Terrific!  And, what does that get me,” he whimpered.
	
“Well, what you get is this one time of year, when a twenty-two year old college girl is not afraid to sit next to you; smile at you; and, wish you a Merry Christmas.  And, if you just say, ‘Thank you’ and ‘Merry Christmas’ back to her, she just may give you the biggest and best kiss you have ever experienced.”

She stood back up and started to put her backpack back on as he simply stared up at her.  Once she was situated and ready to move on towards her train, she stopped; smiled at him again; and, said, “Merry Christmas.”

It seems I was not the only stranger that was witnessing this exchange.  All of those around me were perched on the edge of their seats waiting to see what might happen.  The old man cracked a little smile.  A glimmer came to his eyes, and he said, “Thank you.  And, Merry Christmas to you, too.”

The girl leaned down and planted a kiss right on his lips for what seemed like ten minutes.  Smiles lit up the faces of all the men, women and children watching this take place.  When the girl finally pulled back, the old man was frozen in place with a big ole smile on his face.  She adjusted her backpack and started heading towards the tracks.  All the men she passed on her way who witnessed this exchange anxiously yelled, “Merry Christmas” as she passed, hoping for a kiss as well.

I looked back at the old man who was still in a dream.  Suddenly he caught me looking at him and barked, “What are you staring at?”

I just shook my head back and forth and said, “Merry Christmas”.

“Yeah!  Well Merry Christmas to you, too” he shouted.


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True Valentine

True Valentine
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears

A lost woman the mirror reflects
Young; and it’s apparent
I can see it in her eyes
No focus and childbearing
Just ass, legs, and thighs in mind
No marriage

If she knew better
Learned better; and
Wanted better,
He would show her a better way of living
Instead of dealing with cowards
Seek a man with moral and merit
He’s stealing your joy
He’s bringing you pain
Removing your youth
He’s playing games

The truth at heart is
Reality should be your first thought
Loneliness is not your fault
It’s a part of life for most
Don’t let it destroy your values 
Just wait,
You’ll find a true love to treasure you.


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My Motivations in Poetry

My love of poetry started when I was still a five- year old child When my parents asked me to memorize verses and rhymes With all my feelings and actions, I recited my poems in front of a crowd Innocently receiving adulations but not a handful of dime The first piece I memorized was entitled, “Cradle Hymn” I was a small girl sent in a poem competition, so naïve When I’ve grown up , I realized it’s a song lyric with Christmas theme So, I sang it and started to develop my good voice quite a bit When I was a teenager, I memorized speech and declamation pieces My teacher sent me in a poem contest for a campaign against drug addiction I tried to deliver my piece like a candidate for a star award actress Acting like a drug addict teenage girl longing for parents’ love and attention As years went by, I turned out to be quite a flirty lady With puppy love and sweet crushes to some guys around me When one of them got me, so happy until I forgot all about reciting poetry Relationship went long but when we broke up, it created another life’s story All my heart brokenness has turned me out to be a poem writer I also wrote few poems for my family, dreams and for close friends’ requests My passion of poetry blazed and turned out to be greater When I found a writing spot, motivated and inspired by my friends-the great poets
Feb. 6, 2013 First Place Contest: Who What Where Judged: 4/23/2013 Sponsor: Poet Carol Sunshine Brown


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Girl Rising

Girl Rising Unwanted Child Since the day of her birth, she was not wanted. Her mother rejected her. She was brought into this world by a mid wife. Her mother already had a lot of kids and didn't want anymore. The mid wife told her - it's a beautiful little girl. The mother said - I don't want her. You can keep her. I don't even want to see her. The mid wife and her husband adopted her and raised her as their own. She would be their youngest child. They already had eight kids. She was loved from the beginning. They raised her, send her to school, she graduated and went off to college. While in collage she fell in love, but her boy friend jilted her. Her heart was broken, but she still went on and finished college. After college - she went to Chicago to live with her sister. There she met a young man, that liked her from the start. They met in church. After a year of courtship, they got married. They had a beautiful wedding. They both worked hard. This was in the early 80's. They raised 6 kids. Two are now married. She has a very important job in a bank. They now own three buildings. She got to meet her real mother at her mom's funneral. She asked her - why are you crying? They weren't even your real parents. She answered - They were the only parents that I ever knew. She went back to Chicago and never saw her again. She lives happy with her family. Both her parents that raised her have now passed away....
08/04/2013 Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo Note: I believe that this is a real success story of a girl rising. It is true. My husband and I were sponsers at her Wedding. She is my best friend's baby sister.... For Richard's contest ( Girl Rising )


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Red

Little Red was riding all alone

but she lost her way back home

Sweet Mommy, ready with her jam and pancakes

waited for her dear Little Red all day

but where did she go?

where did she go?

that night was starless

and the wind was blowing so cold


Sweet mommy got so worried

so she called up Little Red on the phone

and asked the little brat where did she go

"mommy dont worry, please be calm", she answered

"i'm here at the city to hang out.

got a new baby, and by the way, grandma's ok, the wolf is dead

I'll be fine. i promise... I'll be home at ten"

So Sweet mommy stayed awake

waiting for her dear Little Red

But no Little Red came at ten

"that stubborn brat...", sweet mommy said

Again she called up Little Red

but the daughter's phone was unattended

It was already past eleven

"tomorrow, she'll have a good beating..." the mother said


It was past twelve already

when Sweet Mommy's phone rang

It was Little Red with a trembling voice

crying to her out loud

"Mommy, mommy...i'm so scared...please pray!

My baby's drunk and our car lost its brake

Mommy, i'm so sorry for what i've done and said

Mommy, mommy...I Love you...Oh shit!!!"..then the phone was dead



That night was starless

The wind was so cold

Where's Little Red now?



Nobody knows.


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A little girl and her plastic bag

Yesterday while on my way to a supermarket I saw a little girl of perhaps five leaning at
a tree close to the road and watching a blue plastic bag which was drifting in the wind.
She looked very sad with her light blue eyes and her blond hair streamed out behind her.
The bag was lifted by a strong blast and I ran after it, crossing the road. A car came and
stopped, waiting for me to cross the road. A younger man on the other side of the road saw
that I wanted to catch the bag and he was also running after it, but the wind drifted the
bag far over the lawn up hills. After some unsuccessful attempts to get hold of the bag he
finally could grab it. I went to him and he gave me the bag and smiled. I then told him
that a little girl was sad about losing that bag. He wished me a nice weekend and I
returned to that little girl still standing near the tree but this time smiling. She shyly
whispered "Thank you", took the bag and ran to her little playmates waiting for her
anxiously in the background. 


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Lost and Confused

Lost and Confused, with life.
My Pain and Fear is all I have Left.
Standing alone with no place to go.
Just another Piece in this puzzle, I am.
Playing a role, that shall not be remembered.
But a piece that will be forgotten.
One that got lost along the way.
Lost and Confused, with Life.
Love is all but what we have.
Its what drives us everyday.
A motivation so deeply encouraged.
When achieved, all is but of greater value.
Lost and Confused, with Life.
I leave this place with one memory
but of you, and all its glory.


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Red In The Inside, But Black In The Outside

This Poem is about the 'hard to get' attitude ladies portray to interested guys.

Despite my unbelievable swag repugnance is her reaction to my flow despite giving no attention to her she seeks every opportunity to shout "NO!" I seldom want to be friendly but she spits on me like a bitter foe I then don't give a damn about her and she takes it like a heavy blow Out of nothing, she creates a scene but all I can do is shake my head and say Oh! the more I mingle, the worse she gets but I'll not succumb and act so low she flaunts her male acquaintances for me to notice Okay! You have admirers, so? I guessed this is a one time attitude but it has been occurring seven weeks in a row When I register my presence around her her body rhythm increases as if in physio trying so hard to pretend makes her seem like a shy dancing Buffalo Then, I make her seem not existing it's not my fault; you reap what you sow signs of her sufferings begin to show as her body trembles in sight of me from head to toe what a pleasant feeling this brings seeing her drown in her own woe Finally! She concedes defeat and already surrendering showing by the way she's changing like melting snow now playing the nice girl, but my ignore? Makes her want to stone me with a Hoe I'm beginning to compromise emotionally too and I'm scared she will get fed up and go so, I create my chance and kiss her as she shows her joy like a swelling dough revealing her hypocrisy, exhibited right from the beginning. Since this feeling is now reciprocated, she shrugs off the attitude and dumps it below as a new damsel now emitting with an everlasting glow.


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A girl was raped in a bus that night

A girl was raped in a bus that night 
By six men, all drunk, who had lost their minds	
Ambrosia was the elixir of gods, it is said
But godlike men in this age aren’t born or made
Alcohol wrecks judgment, makes beasts out of men 
Deeds under its influence have put us men to shame
Shops abound in our nation where alcohol is sold
The government till overflows when the weather turns cold
A corrupt force is tasked to uphold the country’s law
Incidents occurring on a daily basis expose this basic flaw
Fear of law is no deterrent for miscreants and crooks
The police prefer to look away; with them, they are in cahoots  
But a girl still battles death today aided by a ventilator
Skewered with an iron rod that night, unending was her horror
Demonstrations against this shame were met with brutal force
Citizens showing solidarity were bludgeoned without remorse
The hand that wields the baton to protect civil society
Is now the hand that throttles free voice and liberty
Bad governance, we know is the bane of any nation
Bad policing and lawlessness is responsible for any country’s degeneration
Instead of upholding law and maintaining order
Law enforcers are subdued by their political masters
Whose lack of will to rein in the force given selfish political aspirations 
Stems from a sense of indebtedness for furthering their ambitions 
Burning state fuel at night they stalk and chase prey
Fleecing shady truckers and wheeler-dealers who operate in markets grey
This extortion by night on city road and state highway
Robs the state of much needed revenue and is an add-on to their pay
Similar incidents happen each day of the year and night
In night’s anonymous darkness or blatantly by daylight
With the force preoccupied in matters so vital
Who will protect our girls and control the crime spiral
The government of the day is callous to people’s concerns
Callous to  a daughter’s fate on whom men on a bus took turns


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Malala Yousafzai

Malala Yousafzai,
a Pakistani school girl,
was shot in the head
because she wanted an education.
A cowardly brain dead camel humping
moronic rat bastard raghead nazi shot her
for that reason and that reason alone,
she is a female and she wanted
to obtain a decent education
and have a bright future in this
turbulent world in which we live.
Malala lived and is well on her way
to becoming a brilliant young spokeswoman
for the equality of opportunity for
girls and women all over the world.
I pray for her safety and continued success.
And may every warped brainless raghead nazi’s
sorry worthless soul burn in Hell for all eternity.


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don't be afraid

DON’T BE AFRAID
I live to please you, 
I live to see the best in you
You and I are the best match
Havens have open mountains
Heavy rains ought to end us
But don’t be afraid

I have created tents to keep you safe
The safest place for you is in my heart
Where only my thoughts and blood play
My blood oozes with oxygen and love
Don’t be afraid this love is forever

I have devoted all my love to you
The clouds have surrendered its beauty for us
This is all for you
So don’t be afraid

This is the love that children will fantasizes 
This is the love that you wished for
Your wishes have come true


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Female Companion

                                                     She is so typical
                                                           So critical
                                                   For most part difficult

                                   I never really could grasp her in such way
                                       She just wants me to some how stay
                               She comes to my man cave and makes me obey

                                          Shy she was and now I am scared
                                              In such way I almost cared
                              She thinks she can do everything for me I swear

                         She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
     Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
                She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening

                So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
                                When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
            Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy


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Mom's Malaise, part two

A couple of years later, at age 19, this farm girl married and, true to her Catholic
upbringing, began having children. She had four live births and four miscarriages over the course of less than seven years, long before the idea of “post-partum” depression was even a gleam of understanding in anyone’s mind.  After the birth of her fourth child, a girl who would grow up to study environmental sciences and eventually draw the correlation between that first atomic explosion and her mother’s first episode of mental, emotional and physical distress, that infant had to be taken by her aunt and uncle to care for lest she perish from failure to thrive because by this time, mom was so deeply depressed, she was unable to care for her newborn.  

In those days there was no such thing as mental health care, no understanding at all of how to nourish the brain or detox the body from the effects of poisons and radiation…for indeed these advances are only recently gaining traction and still only in the realm of “alternative health care”.  With no understanding of her condition, or of what would even constitute appropriate care, her state of mind and body continued to deteriorate. After more than one suicidal episode and losing her children to foster care while she entered a treatment and rehabilitation facility, she was eventually diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic and manic-depressive, giving her husband sufficient justification to divorce her and blame her parents for not telling him that she was mentally deficient before he married her. Even the Catholic Church agreed and granted an annulment of the marriage that produced his four live children and four miscarriages while he served in the Air Force and left her to care for his children while he was away for years at a time overseas on unaccompanied assignments. But nevertheless, the marriage was officially annulled so that he could marry again sanctioned by the Church and his Catholic bride could continue to take unholy communion in mass.


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Burning Desires

Broken in Pieces, we fall.
A burning desire for love,
that will never be found.
A Cause not worth fighting for,
Looking for what I have left of me.
Just to find something left to see,
that's worth of me.
Broken in Pieces, you fall.
A Burning love I no longer desire,
that will be soon found.
A Cause worth fighting for,
Looking for a way not to be alone.
Just to find something I loved,
that I still desire.


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Mom's Malaise, part one

The events that took place in a remote area of New Mexico about 230 miles south of Los Alamos during the predawn hours of July 16, 1945 forever changed the world. In the early morning darkness the incredible destructive powers of the atom bomb, code-named "Trinity", were first unleashed, and what had been merely theoretical became reality. Said General Groves, head of the Manhattan project, "We were reaching into the unknown and we did not know what might come of it".  Some feared the consequences of radio-active fallout on civilian populations surrounding the test site. Observers were sent to surrounding towns to monitor the results of the blast and medical teams were kept on alert. But the hope and the focus was on the feeling that we now had the means to ensure a speedy conclusion to the war and save thousands of American lives.

A bit over 400 miles north, north east of the blast on that early morning in July, in a
small Panhandle farm, a girl of 17 rose, as was her daily custom, to milk the cows by
hand, she being the youngest child and only girl of second-generation Polish immigrants who made their living by raising maize and wheat, cows and chickens and selling their milk and eggs in the small town nearby. But less than a month after the July 16th test of the atomic bomb, this otherwise seemingly healthy girl fell into such a malaise that she could not even get out of bed much less carry on with her assigned chores on the farm. She was brought to a hospital in Amarillo and eventually discharged with no diagnosis other than she must have had a nervous breakdown due to some kind of female hysteria. She was sent away to a convent to recuperate but no one, least of all her parents, ever really knew what could have caused her sudden “nervous breakdown” that took place downwind and less than a day’s drive from that first historic explosion of the atomic bomb.


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The Tea Party

A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives 
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink 
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel 
leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns 
forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the 
horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in 
the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le 
petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of 
disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar, 
don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her 
name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor 
replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A 
top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed 
chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps 
through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary 
whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the 
child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea.  A girl child resplendent in 
golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned 
ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter 
chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake, 
shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair 
at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The 
rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy 
sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes. 
“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table,
 as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat.

*Refer to "The Chairs Have it"
This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)


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De Andy Lee

De Andy Lee (part one)

Talks about the little Lady Lee and me,
It all started at the first flight
Our adventure had an origin---
From Off-ego was where we met
So dazzling was her beauty that
Caught my eyes at first sight
And unresisting, my passion wooed along 
Believe me, my eyes contended and my heart clamored
Though my lips stuttered
Deep down inside me was stamina within
Whispering “You can do it, yes, you can”

As I opened my eyes, unknowingly, I’d reached for Lee’s hands
“Hi pretty damsel… as anyone ever told… you…‘re charming”
Perhaps this was a poor pick up line
But she smiled anyway and then freed herself away 
Like a butterfly hovered from my hands.

Not so long, Terry, a neighbor from Long-town
Knocked at my door, walked himself in as I consented
And handed me a postal, “thank you Terry”, I said
While I thought through who might mail me this 
Piece on my palm which I was about to cut exposed
Alas a nightmare-like knocks from the dark 
I (already) left my door ajar
 “You help yourself in please” I utter’d as expected
“Good day sir, I’m Dandy. There is a lady waiting for you outside
She said are name is Lee De Lee”
Agape! “It must have been that lady from Off-ego,
Yes she’d seized my throat already. I think, my previous 
Chat with her there was not bad after all”
Walked myself out with one of my finest attires
Dandy took me to that spot she picked him for me and left
Me, only me wandering and wallowing nervously in the chilly clouds

“Hail Mary, hope I guess right… and where is little Lee De Lee?”
I soliloquized… and as Heaven helped me, 
She appeared and approached
“My apology for keeping you waiting Mr Handsome,
May be you did wow me like you did other ladies or not
But my question is this… Will you love me like
You never have loved any other lady in this city?”
 Though puzzled me but “I must top this chat” I assured
“Not only love will I give, but all for our short courtship
And the thereafter long and everlasting wedlock”
 I could see from her face, expressions said to say
‘Another clever words from your sweet mouth’ 
But lo she opted for most sensitive part of me,
Which could be very vulnerable sometimes
“What did you say that your sweet name is… Handsome?”
There I unveiled my name, which is Agape-
“A-G-A-P-E, yes, pronounced Aa-gaa-pey from On-town” I said….

A.O
16/2/2014


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The unkown

There are no promises, no real guarantees
You just have to go with it and hope for the best
It’s probably one of the scariest feelings
You want to not think about it and just enjoy it for what it is and live in the moment
Then there’s that little voice in your head saying “why bother?”
“You’re going to be left crushed and disappointed just like all the other time?”
You keep trying to push it aside but your heart and mind start to feel weary
While I consider myself to be the hopeless romantic who longs for that one who completes the puzzle piece, id don’t want to fall so hard again to end up putting the shattered pieces of my soul back together once more
I want to be able to jump and fly
Not fall and cry
It’s much easier said than done, as are many things
There are no promises, no real guarantees
But every once in a good while you got to jump into the unknown


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L O M L Always

The thought of her smiling gave me faith
From when we were little we bathe
My mother and her mother is best friends
They both took care of us and gifts they send
We pulled each others hair
And she was always quick to dare
When I smiled at her she knew it was no good
She learned to pull me up and she understood
I just wanted her attention and that she gave
She knew it in her heart love was my slave
From when we were a child with full of energy I had my way
She was the one who was my guide and she did not push me away
When I saw her cry one day and her eyes was so sad
I gave her a flower and I smiled at her and made her glad
When some one special leaves her heart
I sat by her and never wanted to depart
She is the love of my life always
She is the one who gave me my hope through out my days
So I gave her my heart and love from within
And I did not make it thin
I stood by her side since I was a child
I gave her my support when we were wild
She knew who I was and I let her go the distance
I did not hate her or give her resistance
My mother and her mother are great friends and their virtue will never end
Because of their love they both trusted us to live our ways to transcend
So my childhood friend was my best friend, and now my wife
She new it from the start that we part of each others life


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The Trilogy Ends

The brutalized girl breathed her last in faraway Singapore
She met her fate returning home, a couple of weeks ago
To shift the focus of the masses on an issue so emotive
And moved to a hospital in a distant land with a purely political motive
Reputed for organ transplants in which their hospital specialized 
What good did it do to a grievously hurt girl whose condition had not stabilized
The six hour flight to the distant shore was surely a misadventure
The government was uneasy with restive crowds near their hallowed seat of power

The government paid lip service to the girl who is no more
Making promises to a nation, both aggrieved and sore
But in the interim, another girl in a neighbouring state
Ended her life, harassed and denied for weeks from recording her rape
The administration’s handling of such incidents
Are not far and few and have many precedents
A woman parliamentarian and doctor to boot
Said something very strange in a television interview
Referred to a victim from the past
And on her character, aspersions she cast
Pronouncing to media that it was not rape at all
But a call-girl’s transaction gone wrong; what gall!
Another MP, this time the President’s son
Sought to have fun with his knowledge of the English lexicon
And portrayed the women demonstrators of civil society as ‘painted & dented’
The backlash was so vicious, on national television he recanted  
With red lights marking them as their sirens wail through the streets
Breaking traffic rules and followed by a bureaucratic fleet 
Politicians think that from their ivory towers they have seen it all
As elected office bearers they never cease to appall
In times of crisis you can sense the disconnect 
But democracy is about people’s choices, who do we elect?

And to men, I must ask why bestiality has become our way
Together we can surely change the world for a better day
Please resist if opportunity demands when you see a girl harassed
Or at the least seek help fast, you have to save the lass! 


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Friday night in the Ghetto



It's Friday night 
In the Ghetto
Screams 
From the dark ring out
A little girl crying
Daddy don’t hit mama
Sit down and shut up
Yelling
Banging 
On the walls
As neighbors threaten
To call the cops

Drugs in the hallways
Drugs on the streets
Who will that pretty girl meet
To make the money 
To feed the habit or pay
The bills or just to eat.

And still around the corner
Near the shops
The people stand 
And talk about the promise land
Its Friday night in the ghetto and the
Promise land is
The pawn shop
Fried chicken
Peanut butter and jelly.

The music from the barber shop
Makes a fellow stop
And touch fists
With a friend 
From around the way
Hey remember the day
Then out of the night air
Shots ring out

That little girl
Sitting on the floor
Playing with her dolls
Ken and Barbie
Dreaming of a time 
When she will meet her
Ken and maybe
Falls on her face
This is the place
The ghetto
And its Friday

Poem by SGSteverson
From the book"Four Pieces of a Silver Coin"
Posted 09/14/2011


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The Girl Who Flew Away

The grass, a glossy emerald green
beneath an azure sky;
the breeze was blowing to and fro,
a noontime in July.

The birds were singing melodies
of flying in the wind;
they didn't want to go alone,
so they sought out a friend.

A little girl with flowing hair
was dancing 'round the tree;
her dress reflected rays of light
that shone among the leaves.

She clapped her hands; she clapped them twice;
she clapped her hands three times;
she then began to spin around
and jump just like the chimes.

And then two birds atop the tree
began to plummet down;
they swirled together as they traveled
toward the emerald ground.

The little girl had stopped her spin,
her arms were at her side,
until she stretched them out to let
the birds give up their glide.

They landed on her little hands,
their wings extended still;
the girl began to run to find
a place atop the hill.

As she ran up to the top,
a bird began to follow;
then all the birds soon did the same
and left their wooden hollow.

The girl, still running, birds in hand,
finally found her stop;
she slowed her feet and caught her breath
while on the mountain top.

The birds, still flying, followed suit
and tried to slow the flight,
but when they got to where she stopped,
they couldn't stop their plight.

So 'round and 'round and 'round they flew
around the little girl;
she felt a breeze begin to blow,
then she began to twirl.

She twirled and twirled and twirled until
her feet were off the ground;
she felt herself move toward the sky,
and then she looked around.

She saw the tree beneath her feet,
The oak, so far away;
she was flying with the birds,
what driving disarray!

Summer's eve is not yet here;
The time is now or none;
So fly as high as you can see,
Or else your summer's done.


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A Sister's wish

"It has to be a girl," she had firmly announced,
My sweet little daughter, always craved for a sister!
So the news of a would-be sibling, did make her glad.
She had jumped and bounced.

"A girl would be perfect, boys are messy,
"I'd play my dolls with her and read princess stories",
Said my daughter, who was all girlie-girlie
She kept things in order, was neat and tidy, even a bit fussy!


She'd shopped for pink blankets, rompers, spoons and forks!
Smart girl that she is, she very well knew
"Babies don't come from hospitals nor gifted from temples
Neither are they dropped by visiting storks!"

She would be there for pregnant momma, a helping hand to lend.
She'd pat the sick mother and soothe her with a touch
Fetch her a glass of water
would not allow her to bend!

"My sis would look like me", so said Sara
Ecstatic she was about the brand new arrival
she promised even her stuff to share!
Found a rhyming name, "I'll call her Aura."

One fine day, mommy gave birth to a son
Hale and hearty, Sweet and chubby.
The family rejoiced but the sister said,
"Its not going to be fun."

"Give him back to the doctor, We won't keep this boy",
She said over the phone and with a frown on her face
She came visiting. Took the baby in her lap,
Saw his Angelic face and was filled with joy.

"He is cuter than any baby in the world can be", said she
Stroking her brother
"His skin is so soft and his fingers so tiny,
Well, we'll take him home, he looks just like me!"


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Turned Tables

What if the tables had been turned...
And it was her, looking at me
Seeing what the eyes can't believe
And what the heart can't embrace

I'm looking into sorrow's face
The sadness wraps itself around her 
Like a blanket of grey fog
A face so pale, so ashen and cold as a winter's day
Betrayed and abandoned by her youth
The girl she used to be....why can't I find a trace?
A youth taken away by choices,  
By circumstance, by life experiences 
By things that I cannot know
My memory of her has been stolen away 
In this unexpected, brief encounter
I swallow tears in my grief, as I mourn the vision
That had been tucked away in my heart for so long
Is it regret, or is it a guilt I cannot name?

A friendship born in childhood, so young, so carefree
She, with bright eyes, and blond hair that curled
Around her high cheeks and rosy smile
She was the one who shined so brightly,
Who's charm, who's gay laughter I had so admired
A childhood where we danced together in sweet grass under sunny skies
Where is the innocence, the radiance?
No longer there, not even a glimpse of the girl I knew

Oh, how I weep inside
Now, here, this meeting by chance
After years that had taken us to seperate worlds 
In my mind, and in my dreams, she had always been
The fair maiden, the one who had held my hand
Two little girls who made promises
Who sat in the dark, under a summertime sky
By the light of the moon and wished upon the stars.
The stars now gone from her sad eyes, the look of weary miles
Now fill the void ......as one more time.....
                                         we say our goodbye.

What if the tables were turned
And it was her, looking at me.....
......................................................................................................

In honor of Desiree's Contest "What If"


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Morning Raga - "Tell Me A Story!"

In the first grey light of dawn, a young woman begins the morning song.
The simple cadences of her song are as tranquil and liquid as the monsoon rain, 
Trickling down the broad leaves in her mother’s garden.
The steady drumming on the veranda roof echoes her rhythms. 

She sings of joys, of sorrows, and of love … always of love … 

This morning song is as familiar and comforting as a lullaby.
Her mother brought it with her from the South, 
And sang it every morning for her father.
Now, she sings for them both, as they begin the day.

Today will be special for her.
She is to meet her future husband for the first time.
She has never seen him, but she trusts her parents’ judgement … 
After all, they love her, don’t they?

She hopes he will be kind, and maybe a little bit handsome … 
Like the boy she’s seen in town.
But she must try to forget him … 

On another veranda, a young man sits silent, listening.
He sits here at every dawn to hear the morning raga, 
Entranced by the voice of a girl he cannot see.

He, too, is to meet his betrothed today.
He wishes she might be a singer, or at least enjoy the morning song,
When she comes to live at his mother’s house.

He remembers a lovely girl he saw … sly glances, shy smiles … 
If his new wife is half as pretty, he will be well content.
Yes! He will … 

He believes his secret is safe, but mothers see everything … 
And his mother loves him. So she whispered to a friend,
And her friend whispered to another, and, well … 
A good husband is not hard to persuade … 

The sun has risen above the clouds.
There is much to do today – and if the young people agree,
There will be a lucky Monsoon wedding to arrange.

But first, the song.



Entered in Elaine's "Tell me a story" contest


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Baby Fawn

Im scared
Im absolutely terrified
My knees shake 
Like a baby fawn learning to take its first steps
I want to leap into this wondrous field of possibility
I just don’t want to be dropped like a hot potato 
Like so many other times before
I want to believe and have an abundance of hope
But how can I when I’ve been left with a broken heart
Picking up all the jagged pieces, one by one
How can I believe that this time will be any different?
How do I dare risk it all again
Knowing that im putting it all out there once more


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Jar of Love and such

She walked around this earth with a jar filled with love
Dipping into its commodities when she saw someone in need of

a smile, encouragement, understanding and compassion
Her jar was always running over bringing others satisfaction

Oneday while on a daily routine she saw a tattered old man
Sleeping on a bench, in his right hand he had an aluminum can

She dipped into her jar and pulled out a mysterious note
She had held it for quit sometime a poem she had long ago wrote

She parked her car around the way
It was a cold and rainy November day

Then walked up quietly to this sleeping guy
and suddenly formed tears in her sensitive eyes

She took the poem from out of her jar
Put it inside his portable bar

Then quickly tip towed away
Hoping to God he would read what it had to say

The poem was a love letter to anyone
That had given up on life and had completely shunned

the world out because of many horrible trails
The poem was written to encourage someone and inspire

It was signed with just a smile and a phone number too
A nearby church and rehab center who

Took men in for absolutly free 
helped them to discover who they were really meant to be,

A week later this girl drove that same way
There was no sign of this man she so often saw on that bench during the day

A month later, on a Sunday morning she could not believe her eyes
She was in church and to her surprise

The same old man that had been dirty, drunk and out of social reach
Stood in front of this giant congregation and made a beautiful speech

All bright, clean and with tears in his eyes
He told a story about an angel who stopped him from suicide 

He said there had to be a God for he woke to take his last sip
And in his “jar” of beer he found a poem and decided to read it

And now he had been sober for thirty days
He found his two lost sons and he just wanted to give God praise

This girl and her "jar" never said a word
She just sat in her chair as her soul sang like a bird

So never be afraid to carry goodness in your life jars
For you never know when you may be a persons saving star!!!


Sabina Nicole
Written:1-17-12
Based on The contest :JARS


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Hidden Faces

In a house on top of a hill
A young girl lies awake in her bed
Feeling Restless and anxious, she wonders
What these feelings she has
Towards the boy that lives across the street
Wondering if he feels the same way she does
The girl walks to her window
Hoping the boy is somewhere in sight
But she can't see him anywhere around
"Maybe he's inside sleeping," the girl thinks to herself
"He's probably not thinking any of these silly thoughts like I am."
The girl returns to her bed
Wishing the boy knew what she felt for him
But little did she know
The boy was also watching from his window
Having the same feelings she had
And wondering if she felt the same


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The Mall Santa

One crying kid after another sat on Santa’s lap.
He tried to remain jolly while holding onto squirming, screaming, kicking and 
scratching children.
Those who did not cry had endless lists of toys and games they wanted for 
Christmas.
He was not aware of the electronic gadgets and accessories they asked for in 
abundance.

He had been pee’ed on.  Had his real beard pulled and tugged on.  He had been 
kicked and clawed.  He was even slapped by one mother who did not like the way 
he held her daughter.

Picture after picture for ungrateful parents who commented, “Last year’s Santa was 
much better.”
One spoiled brat after another, disappointed with the snow globe they got for 
sitting on his lap after over an hours wait in line.

Christmas had lost its meaning and joy to the, underpaid, Mall Santa Claus.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, the line had come to an end and one last child waited her 
turn to sit on his tired, wet and weary lap.

Void of enthusiasm, he motioned with his mitten covered hand for the girl to come 
sit on his lap.
He wondered if this would be a crier, a wetter, a silent stiff, a whiner or a spoiled 
brat with a long list of gift orders.

She felt frail as he lifted her up onto his lap.
She removed her cap and displayed a totally bald head.

“Hello, little girl.  And what do you want for Christmas?”, he asked with no emotion 
left in his voice.

She could only answer in a sweet, soft, whisper of a voice, “I came here to say 
thank you, Santa.  I already got my Christmas present.”

“You did?  And what did you get?”, he asked.

“A bone marrow transplant,” was her answer.

“Oh,” was all he could respond with.

“Mommy said it came from Jesus.  So, I thought maybe you could tell Jesus, ‘Thank 
you’, for me.”

“Yes,” he said, with rejuvenated spirit, “yes, I can.”

“Thank you, Santa.  Oh, and Santa, can you give my Mommy and Daddy a nice 
dinner away from the hospital on Christmas day?  They have been there every night 
for a long time and I think they could use a night off.”

“I will see what I can do,” said Santa, with a tear in his eye.

The little girl climbed down off of Santa’s lap, thanked him for the most beautiful 
snow globe she had ever seen, and wandered off down the mall holding her 
parent’s hands.

Santa sat there in the dark for the longest time, having forgotten the hundreds of 
kids who soured his Christmas spirit and smiled, full of Christmas joy for the present 
he had just received.

“And, Jesus,” the mall Santa said, “Thank you from me, too.”


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grand pappy's chest

A chest now sits where her grand pappy sat. The old worn out marks on the floor where he would rock. Sitting on his lap eating crackers and cheese. He would talk of the past like it was a beautiful dream. He had it harder than most boys. He lost his father before he was born. Raised by three women, he was great in the kitchen. Not having an abundance of money he would make due with what he had. She would ask him, "what was it like as a kid?" He would tell her, "there were no electronics." We had tops to spin, crayons and ink. All the neighborhood kids would gather to play, A game called imagination. Your imagination is a wonderful thing, never forget you posses it. You can sail far over the sea, or travel horseback to another country. Be president one day, or the big wig in a corporate company. Here is a chest for you to keep. The little girl opens the chest and reply's, "It is empty inside?" Her grand pappy says, "look again!" Tell me, "what do you see?" I see I can be anyone or anything I want to be! Her grand pappy passed away. About three years ago now. to this day the chest covers up the worn out marks on the floor. Her daughter asked, "mommy what is this chest for?" Telling her daughter what her grand pappy told her. Her daughter open the chest and replied,"there's nothing inside!" She told her to look past the emptiness. She told her daughter to use her imagination. Explaining that your imagination can take you anywhere you want to go. It can make you whoever you want to be All you have to do is dream! I do not usually write story's but this story of a grandpa and little girl just flowed from my pen. And it is so touching how the story unfolds..


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The Curse On The First love

The Curse on The First Love I cannot marry you I must take another The love I felt for you was really as a brother The girl is astounded as his child grows within her She know it’s a lie now how could she endure The young girl curses as the village she leaves The man left behind now for him she will grieve He chose another under great family pressure She cursed all and his like for taking this measure. The century’s passed but the curse still endured The first love of each man or woman incurred The wrath of the Witch that cursed years ago When her first love abandoned for wealth, or she thought so. A young girl a descendant of that first Witch fell in love with a boy But the father was not happy and said there would be no joy The girl was not good enough for his beloved son He would marry for money or he would marry no one The girl was angry and hurt beyond her belief She heard of the curse and to assuage her grief She called down the wrath of the Witch on the mans first love She got on her knees and prayed to above The father of the boy fell under the curse His first love disappeared and what was made worse The Witch’s descendent he knew the story of But the girl was his daughter and was born out of love. The grief of the father, of the boy he would not let wed Had struck home at the family right at the head The girl from next door was gone, his first love no more The daughter given birth too by his sweet paramour.
13/02/2012 Entry For The Twisted Minds Contest


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Haunted contest

At the corner of Ocean an Atlantic,
Late at night neighborhood kids would get frantic,
A run down building that had been condemned,
One night is where I took my friends.
The hospital house was known for the mentally insane,
In the 50’s experiments were done on peoples brains,
Many people died beyond those walls,
We were told if we went in we could still here their calls.
It was right around Halloween,
We were five bored kids that wanted to have a little scream,
The only way in was to crawl through the basement window,
I was scared but did not want it to show.
Once inside it was too dark for us to have any sight,
Someone brought a small flashlight,
The room was all dusty, cob webs draped around,
Cold chills ran through my body, I could not hear one sound.
The boys decided to explore, I couldn’t move,
I just sat by the window so I could still prove,
But the others went on in sheer fear,
I was afraid of what might appear.
The smell of death lingered in the air,
After five minutes I knew we shouldn’t be there,
With everyone gone on there own little tours,
In the silence I began to hear much more,
A little girl crying, faintly, I heard,
I thought it was in my head, a girl crying would be absurd,
Suddenly I heard the boys all screaming,
I jumped out that window so fast I thought my heart would stop beating,
They came running down,
Screaming" look what we found,"
A skull of a baby wrapped in one boy’s hand,
“Through it back” I said, with a violent demand,
We all went running down that dreary street,
To the old oak tree were we all swore to meet,
The boys heard a girl crying and thought it was me,
I told them I heard it too and was ready to flee,
That week the small hospital was torn down 
We never told anyone what we found
 A year later they built a bran new house,
I saw a young lady walking out one day in a white blouse,
Then two months later I saw a for sale sign,
I wonder if it was because that young lady heard a child’s wine.

BY: Sabina Nicole
Contest: Haunted
Written:9/13/11


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TRAPPED IN THE FOG

Can somebody please explain to me?
Why is it that she hates what she sees?
A seemingly perfect life
She is forced to hide behind a smile
Scared to face the truth
With a glance in the mirror, she doesn’t recognize her own reflection
A young girl’s view so distorted she feels so lost
Terrified to disappoint, she forces herself to smile
The girl trapped inside, so desperate to break free
And with every passing moment, the beauty inside begins to fade
It fades further and further away
She has lost herself
So desperate to belong, yet she is unable to move on
Unaware of the damage she has caused, she lives in a dream
She is trapped in the fog
She continues to live her seemingly perfect life
Never showing the fear
Never showing the pain
Never showing the tears, she hides from herself
Her reality is one where the truth can no longer be found
Why is it that no one can see the beauty of the girl trapped inside?
Why it is that no one can see that this girl is me??


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Today Is September 1 2007

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


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Twin blood

How can i Rest!!!
How could you take a girl child from me
How could you forcefully take her
Shes only 6 years of age 
All she needs is a motherly care
Do not do this to her and her sister
Because they will never forgive you
Why keep them apart
Is it that you want me bordered
Well you can please yourself 
But justice comes soonest
There after you have lost it all
How can i rest without uniting the innocence
I will fight to the last blood in my vein
As i will never give up on them
Finally!i see you loosing them forever
The clock of  their freedom is ticking 
Silence! I can hear the voice calling....


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Each Day and Each Night

Once upon a time, 
lived a princess 
who wore a robe 
which covered her feet 
each day and each night 
she dreamed of the day 
her prince charming found her

Once upon a time,
lived a young girl 
who wore barely nothing 
and shivered and shaked
each day and each night 
she dreamed of the day
she had food to eat  

Once upon a time, 
lived a baby girl
who wore no nappy 
and lay there stone cold
each day and each night 
she dreamed of the day 
her parents cared
 
After a while, 
the pretty princess 
who wore a crown on her head 
which shined so bright 
searched for prince charming 
each day and each night 
but still no luck 

After a while,
the yawning young girl 
who wore bags under her eyes
grew tired of looking
but kept on searching 
each day and each night 
for scraps to eat

The end, 
for the pretty princess 
who wore a white dress 
on her big day
found her prince charming 
together they stayed
After a while, 
the beautiful baby 
who wore teary eyes
gave up all hope 
but tried so so hard 
each day and each night 
for a loving stare

The end, 
for the pretty princess 
who wore a white dress 
on her big day
found her prince charming 
together they stayed
each day and each night 

The end, 
for the yawning young girl
who wore a pale face
on her final day
never found them few scraps 
starving she stayed
each day and each night

The end, 
for the beautiful baby 
who wore a clean nappy 
on the new day 
finally found that loving stare 
with a new family she stayed
each day and each night


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What Do You See

I found this old poem while helping to clean out a house that was vacant. I hope you 
don't mind that I didn't write it but it was too awesome not to post. Enjoy--------
          

                                   What Do You See

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?	
What are you thinking when your looking at me? 
A crabby old women, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say with your loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will.
When bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what your thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, your not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.
As I drink at your bidding, as I sit at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother.
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20. my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows I primised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own.
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40 my young sons near grown will be gone.
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more babies play round my knee. 
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young ones are busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old women now and nature is cruel.
It's her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and loving life over again.
I think of the years, all the few--gone to fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses, open and see.
Not a crabby old women, look closer,  see ME.

This poem was found among the effects of a patient who died at the Oxford
University Geriatric Service in England. Author is unknown.


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Fireman

It's 1 AM
And we're making sweet love.
There is a house burning in the distant, cold morning.
You're called.
You rush to the firehouse,
Leaving me cold and empty.
How I wish you'd stay with me.

You throw on gear like so many times before.
Your son cries in his crib,
        He knows you're gone.
I cradle him in my arms,
Like you did me only minutes ago.
I put my breast to his mouth, hoping he's hungry,
Hungry as you were only minutes ago.
But it's no use.
    He knows you're gone.

You arrive at the house, which turns the black sky
Red with the burning of its materials and souls.
You search for the souls you can protect and save.
I hope you're protected, but I now know what your son has known all along.

You find a small girl in her closet, barely conscious.
You give her your oxygen and take her out of the fiery hell.
She thinks you are god, come to save her.
You tell her you're not.
You talk, trying to keep her conscious. She asks if you have a child.
"Yes, I have a son."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes, with all my heart."
"Did you say goodbye to him?"
"No, but I'll say hello when I get home."

The Little Girl sees her mother's burnt body carried out.
"Is that my mommy?" she asks.
"Yes. She told me she loves you more than anything."
"Hey God, where will she go?"
You pause and say, "Honey, she isn't going anywhere. She'll be right here with you,
protecting you as you grow up."
"Good. I love my mommy. And I love you too, god."
She closes her eyes
And falls on the stretcher she was sitting on.
You feel pain-the little, lifeless body will always be in your mind.

I begin to cry with our son.
I sway back and forth, gently rocking.
       He knows you're gone. So do I.
You find another body with a soul still alive.
A young boy.
You hand him past the door between the two worlds.
You've just let him go.

The house collapses upon you.
You're gone.
My strong fireman is gone.

I cry with our son, we both know you're gone.
I wait for that call.
I hold our son, close to my body.
I get that call at 4AM.
The sun is not up yet.
What they say to me, means nothing. I knew you were gone.
I cried, but not violently.
Tears just curved down my face.
I ask for your gear, after they remove it.

It smells of dust, fire, death, but
I can still smell you.
I shake it and my eyes fall upon your pocket.
It was full.
You never leave things in there.
I found a note, entitled to James and me.

"I love you both more than anything. I need to say it more often. I love you."

Dated today
1:45 AM


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Box of cats

Hurriedly, I raced to the grocery reaching the door, when a girl ran up to me with a box of 
cats.

"Miss,  would you like to have a kitten"?  I had just searched the kitten ads and cheerily 
replied, "I sure would"!

She tilted the box to show me her large litter. She said,  "You can't have this one, it's been 
promised! You can't have that one either because I want to keep it."

"Fine then! Which one can I have"?  "Any of the others but I have to charge five  dollars 
because if I give them away, people might be mean to them!" 

"Mean", said I horrified?   "Yes mam, they feed them to the alligators or snakes"!

With that said, I proceed to sneak a peek at the screaming Mimi's. All were jumping around, 
except this one tiny orange and white kitten who was fast asleep. 

I grabbed the kitten saying, "Okay, I'll take this one, if it's a girl?". "Oh yes mam, it's a girl 
and it will be a flat faced cat"!

"Okay, what's your name,"I asked?  She seemed surprised and mumbled, "Loretta".  "Alright, 
I'll call the kitten Loretta, and if it's a flat faced cat, I'll just call her, ugly Loretta"!  

We said goodbye. Me,  five dollars poorer but with a darling kitten
and the girl with a sad, concerned look on her face. I could tell she was worried and so I 
walked back and handed her my calling card. "Come over anytime, Loretta". Her expression 
did not change.

A quick stop at Pet Smart left me $275.00 poorer and I needed a larger car to get all the 
toys and play swings in. I then piled the front seat with enough Science diet to take care of 
an elephant. 

Now armed with cat fuel ammunition, I headed to the vet and it had to be the best vet in 
the world. No other would do.  I called everybody I have known since my birth and wound up 
with a vet very near my home.  They have 5 vets on duty all the time and would meet me 
anytime day or night for an emergency.  I could live with that and with my master card, I 
charged in.

I had not looked at Loretta good when I snatched her out of that box.  She was gorgeous. A 
calendar cat.  It didn't really matter but I felt good checking her out as I waited my turn to 
see the doctor.

Finally, Loretta sat on his table and the vet remarked, " This is a laid back kitten. If my wife 
wouldn't fuss, I'd take this kitten away from you"!   He continued praising Loretta, "Are you 
going to change Loretta's name"?  Horrified I stammered, "No!  Why would I do 
that"?  "Because, he said,  Loretta is a boy"! 
 
 
 
 


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Naughty Girl

There was a naughty girl 
And what a naughty girl she was! 
For nothing would she ever do
But daydream all day long!
She wouldn’t eat her oatmeal
Instead, would quietly suck her thumb
When came time to dress for school
She wouldn’t comb her hair
She'd much rather munch on a cookie 

Scolded, run to Papa in tears
When the school bell rang at eight
She would be running late
And when walked to her school house
She wouldn’t enter her class!
She spent a whole year sitting in her eldest sister’s class
The nuns, they tried to bribe her
With cookies and some milk
There were times she’d eat the cookies
But wouldn’t drink all the milk!
She was taken on her first field trip  
To the ocean’s shore one day
And Excitement filled those eyes
That widened at the sight of rolling waves  
She screeched endlessly and clapped her hands in play!
On the next day she went willingly to her classroom
And was asked to write about the trip
She held her pencil to paper and wrote 
Her very frst poem at the age of six


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Emily's Song


Many days have gone and past us by, Still in my memory live cherished stories of an angelic voice and a girl named Emily. A young lady of no more than sixteen years with a beauty few could see. With tattered clothes and dirty face, she lived in poverty. But a blessed voice was given to her like an angel, heavenly. She sang out from an innocent soul with love and harmony. She shared her gift and praised God's name. Light shined on Emily. Though, she could not enter the house of God, with clothes and face grimy. On street corners, she sang to the Lord. Her songs carried from sea to sea. Until all the countryside knew the angelic voice from a girl named Emily. She brought God's message of peace and love to all with hearts to see beyond the station given in life to the gifted Emily. Then one cold day in the little town, a young stranger blew in to see if he could get a glimpse and hear the song from a girl named Emily. He walked the streets from dawn 'til dusk listening for her melody. When he heard her voice he was not prepared for it's soulfulness and beauty. He fell in love with the angelic voice and fair girl immediately. He did not see the dirt and rags only beautiful Emily. The stranger was a handsome prince from across the sea. The church members who ignored the girl now all loved Emily. She bestowed on them love undeserved from the heart they would not see, and sang for them in the same church where she was once refused entry. Emily married the handsome prince and moved across the sea. But she never forgot from where she came and her life of poverty. Until the day before her death, she sang for all, songs heavenly, and gave her fortune and riches away to children in poverty. She used her gift to spread love and joy, this girl named Emily. Her life to God was a gift returned, the song of Emily.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, June 4, 2012 for Heroes and Heroine's Contest (David Williams)


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Christmas Desire

Each and Every December 
the material things surface
I want, I want 
But what if the thing you want most 
You cannot buy or have ?

Each and Every
gift given or recieved
One after another
Is not the thing you long for most
Tears surface as it hits you 

Each and Every
tear that is shed
Drop after drop 
Cannot bring you your desire 
as the thing you desire is gone

Each and Every 
wintery night that comes
Snowflake upon snowflake 
melts just as your heart does 
as you look at that picture

Each and Every 
smiling child
smile after smile
reminds me of what i long for 
my beautiful girl 

Each and Every 
Christmas season 
Santa comes Santa goes
reminds me of what my girl has missed
and deepens the hole in my heart

Each and Every December  
people of this world
nationality after nationality 
all desire something they cannot have
but yet this happy season 
does not bring them comfort 
but pain and memories
What is it you want ?


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Wonder If He Feels The Same Way You Do

And his arms become the webs of crawling insects
The kings and queens of his time

Out of all the stars in the sky, the shiniest one stood alone on the binge of falling apart
Now what does that tell you?

The bright lemon yellow is now fading to a dull speck of what you may think is light
The edges no longer sharp, but chipped away

The lines connecting together are no longer straight; they have grown crooked
His insides now twisting with agony and guilt; regretting he never told her

What he should have done, he never did; didn’t even try
Thoughts of her is all there is in his head, her face is everywhere he goes

Trying to move on, but the next girl looks just like she did
Closing his eyes doesn’t ever work, but still he tries, yes, pretending he tries

But never did he try to love her; never did he say the word love
The word has been stuck in his throat next to his Adam’s apple

Nothing would come out but a croak; the word never made it
Now he wishes she would have grabbed his throat and forced it out

Even with the next girl he cannot bear the word because of his regret
Why did he not tell her how he feels? Why did he not use the word?

But it’s too late, yes it’s way too late; that girl found a new him
A new him that can get the word unstuck from his throat

And there is no regret or guilt, not with her
There is now only happiness and fulfillment for once, like she had wanted for so long

And him, he is alone, nothing to comfort him
But his own cry and footsteps about an empty house

Never will he be as happy as what he would have been with her
Never will she be happier then she is now with him

Written February 6, 2009


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The Chairs Have it

“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table, as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunks into his well-worn seat. Tufts of fanny fur tickle between his spokes. “Aahhh chhhooo!” Windy sneezes. The rabbit toppled over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose.

“Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” Tex the horned back chair at the tables girdle chortles. 

A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake, shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter chocolate icing on my skirt?” She moans. “Mon Dieu.” 

A girl child resplendent in golden locks and white pinafore tears into the room planting herself on the caned ladies rocker Mary. The loose tails of her apron catch beneath Mary’s rocker and the child tumbles face forward into a full cup of Assam.  “Awww now what a shame,” Mary whispers to Tex. She lisps through the spider web pattern of her seat. The child rights herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string.

A top hat flies through the air and lands on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed chair. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder back mutters, between its back straps. The windsor replies “Her name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “She looks familiar, don’t she?” A girl child runs screeching, around the far end of the table chasing a set of disembodied eyes with a cat tail? “Ou a le petite fille?” Matilda groans. A single, rose-pink, button popps off Matilda’s back and lands in the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the horn-backed chair. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns forming his head. His humor is short lived. A putrid pink flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel leather seat. A pot and kettle band arrives through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A game of musical chairs begins in earnest.


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Dream in her head

There once lived a girl, 
With a dream in her head.
She had a plan,
A goal,
A husband she would wed.
And as the years flew by,
And the girl grew up.
She realized how living a dream, 
Could be so tough.
And the girl tried and tried,
For the goals she could not achieve.
The plans she could not complete.
The husband she could not meet.
So the girl gave up on all of her dreams,
'Till one day a boy stitched up some seams.
They fell and love,
And soon got married.
And a few years later,
A child they carried.
Then the girl realized that her plans and her goals,
Were never met and were far too old.
So her husband helped her achieve her plans,
For he was kind and sweet a a civil man.
Once her goal were met and her family carried smiles,
She found that she lived a fine life, 
But still, 
Her dreams went on for miles and miles.


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I'm Looking

I'm looking for someone I can kiss Oh I'm looking for a good girl but finding a good girl is like surfing the web and not seeing porn. I'm looking for someone to hold at night, Oh I'm looking for a good girl but finding a good girl is like going to the strip club and not getting glitter on your lap. I'm looking for someone to love and love me back. Oh I'm looking for a good girl but finding a good girl is like going to the beach and not getting sand in places there should not be sand. Oh I'm just looking for a good girl.


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The Golden Chandeliers Glow

The room was alive with colour, dancing rainbows swirling under the glowing golden chandelier.
Laughter filled the air, no one noticed the young girl tending to a single tear.

The warmth of the room was not felt upon her pale skin, she felt only the harsh frost of her fathers love.
The white ivory keys from the piano played, with each striking note she once again felt her fathers riding glove.

Whilst lost in her thoughts, soul searching upon an empty river bed that dried up seasons ago.
Her fiancé walks over to her and reaches out his hand, an offer to dance was all he could do to ease this young girls woe.

He was not a bad man as his bank glowed with gold, his heart was warm and kind much like that of her late mother.
Alas for these kind qualities could not change the fact, her heart had fallen for another.

They twirled and danced, clapped and smiled her ears were filled with music and laughter.
But beneath it all was pain and confusion, her mind was filled with the spiteful words of her father.

Earlier that day he had tried to beat sense into her, she was to marry a decent man and that was final.
With a loving blow only a father could give, he believed that her desires of sharing a bed with another woman was alterable.

They both knew that his attempts were in vain, she had been like this for years and nothing would change.
Her father had always despised her, the daughter he believed to be strange.

No one would know that tonight's dance would be her last, that her life would be cut short upon the morrow.
Her death much like her mother, suicide or murder one would never know.

But until that moment comes her father stands silent and alone, holding a crimson glass of his favourite Bordeaux.
In the corner of the ballroom he watches her with a stern look, his face cast in shadow by the golden chandeliers glow.


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The Bestest Thing

The bestest thing I ever did was to give a girl a kiss 
I was just a little tyke and don't know what I'd missed 
She was only five years old and I a grown up six 
The bestest thing I ever did was to give a girl a kiss 
Her hair was blonde and curly and her cheeks a rosey red 
The wonder of something exciting and new danced inside my head 
I don't know why I did it I guess something inside me clicked 
The bestest thing I ever did was to give a girl a kiss 
When I kissed her, and on the lips, my temperature did rise 
I felt my stomach turn upside down and I wanted to take off and fly
What a tremendous, fun feeling, when I saw her wearing a smile
OHHHHHH yes! the bestest thing I ever did was to give a girl a kiss
 

David Gary Pennington 


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That Girl, Eve

A small place in England
a city rife with crime 
full of the homeless
the jobless 
lives a small 
defenseless girl 
who was once a happy child 
transforming 
into an angry woman 

Eve was a small girl
missunderstood
Life was hard on the estate
Father and Mother deceased 
when she was three
She came home 
But for what? 
Empitiness  

Twelve years on 
Eve sobs 
as noone is there 
to answer the questions
anger has built itself up 
Why me? 
she often asks herself 
questions fuel the rage 
till one day it becomes too much  

The tragic day 
came after her fifteenth birthday  
life was the death of her
the poor girl 
with glazed eyes
who watched 
other children at the park 
with their parents 
couldnt handle it anymore

The local papers
portrayed the whole event 
as if they cared 
if they had cared sooner 
this girl, Eve 
would be happy 
enjoying her life 
like the other girls her age  
but they didn't
and still nothing has changed


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Guardian Angel

A little girl lie asleep in bed
Enjoying the dreams within her head
She dreamed that she was in a cloud
Then heard an angel call aloud
Her name once more
She knew she'd heard that voice before
Then there before her stood a figure all 
Wrapped in white with wings much bigger
For a moment she felt she couldnt breathe
She knew her prayer had been recieved
That god had sent a guardian angel
To guide her as her life went fatal
He came to take her in her sleep
He couldnt stand to watch her weep
He had to take away her pain
He knew she had no more to gain
That night the girl had passed away 
In heaven she will always stay


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THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY

The blind man waited, 
at the intersection, for someone
to help him cross the busy boulevard...
and he was accustomed to live in twilight,
fumbling for a hand on his right;
and he finally found mine!


Judge humanly...not pettily,
you could be in that situation 
and feel abandoned and helpless,
unless somebody extends compassion
and lends that hand in time of need;
only human love can render a good deed!


The orphan girl recognizes a greed so mundane,
her body has grown, so has her world's view;
that person who abandoned her at the orphanage
when icy rain pelted against the foggy windows,
was her own mother that refused to knock on the front door!
She still feels unwanted, unloved and rejected by who,
for some shameful reason, dropped her off and was gone
into the dreary autumn's night to forget her despair!


Judge the pain...not the circumstance
that impels a misguided heart to err;
beneath an appearance of denial,
there's a certain humanity we can't conceive,
and what prompts us to act in unreasonable and strange ways,
is still not quite understood by all;
all we can perceive is the guilt we can't bear,
and the resentful restlessness which shortens this very existence!


The elderly woman, sitting in an old wheel-chair,
waits at the traffic light as the whisking wind
brushes her frizzy and gray hair;
the sunken-cheeked lady is the regular beggar,
whose life has never been mellow,
but full of tragedy and sorrow!
Her frail voice is not insincere, but thankful and kind... 
when I hand her a dollar out of my car's window!


Judge fairly... that could be you standing there,
or someone you love;  fate can be changed if we dare...
we assert truths without clarity and condemn unjustly!
Let's take the mendicant's place, at the same corner, and beg all day;
wouldn't we be humiliated, be scorned or even be ignored
by the glances of passerby that regard us not as their friend?


The run-away teenager with lots of make-up,
looks like a madam out of a brothel,
who tries to hide her identical age by smiling at strangers...
and her trade is that of an inexperienced gal,
unprotected and exposed to many dangers;
and it might cost her life...that's already a living hell!     


Judge not too harshly...when facts aren't known,
and the only assumption rests with our pity;
along the side of the street there are many eyes that weep,
eager to return home, to a home that was so warm and cozy!
And the lucky ones will make until dawn,
others will not open their eyes, but eternally sleep!



THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY 


The blind man with a steel cane  stooped and waited
for someone to help him across the busy boulevard;
he felt warm sunlight, and wished his sight back without living in darkness,    
then he saw a glimpse of that light when he was touched by my kindness.   
The orphan girl wants to escape, but she is afraid to venture in the outside world
still feeling unwanted, unloved and shivering unable to shield herself from the cold.   
On many rainy nights, she sits by her barred window recalling her frail mom fleeing 
into the Autumn dreary night, and inside she longs for caresses to begin the  healing.
Another teenager, hustles in the dangerous streets of night...she barely 
can walk on high heels, but she endures pain for gain;
her home was blessed with good parents, but she rebelled and ran away... 
she has no choice but sell her body...what will she attain?  
Lend a hand to anyone in time of need,
only human love renders a good deed;
How can we help abandoned babies and run-away
and get rid of all the plagues of our day that infest society?


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Boy and Girl

A young girl runs around the park looking at flowers.
She looks at them and smells them. 
This littler girl eyes lights up.
She sees all these yellow flowers and started to run around.
She goes through them.
She stops in the middle of a yellow patch of flowers.
She raises her arms up and smiles and screams happily.

A young boy was running around in the brush he sees her.
She has long golden brown hair and a great smile.
He notices that she had green eyes.
He notices that she likes flowers.
He runs around and looks for the perfect flower.
He sees several odd looking ones.
He does not know what she would like.

The young girl sees this boy running around in the bushes.
She tries to ignore him but she could not.
She saw him with short black shiny hair and light brown eyes.
She thought that he looks mischievous.
She also thought he was a regular boy who likes hide and seek.
It also looked weird that the boy was looking at flowers.
She thought.

By now the he saw her looking at her so he purposely started to hide.
He got into the bushes but these bushes had thorns in them.
He looked at the bush and saw a yellow and red flower.
He thought this was the right flower to get her.
He peeked out of the bush and sees her playing.
He looked to make sure he did not get a thorny stem.

The boy meets the girl and ran around her and showing off.
She sees him do this and thought it was ok.
She looks over at her mom and sees another mom.
The only two people other than her and her mom must be these two.
She stopped dancing and looks at him.
The moms see both of them and realize that something was going to happen.

The boy’s mom takes out a camera.
As he had his hand around his back hiding the flower, he notices her mom.
He stopped and looked at her and smiled.
She stopped and looked at him and smiled.
He has her attention and gives her the flower.
The flower was a red and yellow rose.
They became friends for life.


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A Girl I Once Knew

She was quiet
Almost shy
And kind.
I was crude
Rough
In a hurry
I only thought of me
She thought of us.

When we dated
We frequented local places
Never venturing beyond
Our quiet town
We had some good times
But I grew tired of the sameness
I wanted to see the world
Meet the smart money
Feel the hustle
And take in the give.

Eventually things faded
Our calls were infrequent
Her voice became cold and formal
A tiny crack seeped between us
Growing into a fracture
That couldn’t be healed
When it ended
We went on our own
But it hurt me more 
Than I admitted
Walking home that night I bit my lip
To keep from crying.

One day my mother said
She thought she saw her
In town
Holding a young child by the hand
She looked happy.
“I thought you didn’t like her” I said
Stopping, my mother searched my face
“I was used to seeing you as a couple that’s all.”


We met by chance years later
We changed
The world changed
Things happened
We stared at each other
Not speaking
Just staring
Standing
At arm’s length 
In awkward silence
I was going to ask about children
But I didn’t
The anguish 
And bitterness of rejection
Was still buried somewhere inside.

We parted the same way we met
Awkwardly
Memories came back
And I realized 
She was comfortable where she was
A place where time moved 
In its own peculiar way
A world of
Small shops
Familiar strangers
Clean streets
A place where mothers 
Kept an eye on their children.
All in all
Not a bad place to live
And certainly not a bad life.

A voice inside my head
Whispered “Who was she?”
I pretended not to hear
When I look back
I remember the time
A girl walked into my life
For a brief moment.
Maybe it was love
Or infatuation
But whatever it was
She was the girl I once knew.








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Love's Strong Bond And Guiding Hand

There once was a young, freckled faced girl, who had the world
wrapped around her finger. 
The world was glad to be touched by such a precious hand as hers. 
Talent did flow from 
these precious hands to the artist's canvas. 
Dreams never ceased, and love did flow. The 
sky was the limit, of what God and this young girl could achieve.  

In a small farming town, there was a young man, 
the fourth brown eyed, curly haired son of five boys from a 
loving couple. He worshipped God, 
and worked hard on his job and also at church for Jesus. He had 
a simple prayer one day to find a christian wife to 
be his help mate. God has a plan for your 
life, even if we don't see it.

The freckled face girl, was not expecting
to find a life long mate in Butler, GA, the home of 
her grandparents, because she too had 
prayed for a christian man to share her life. The girl 
had to mature and find her way in the world, 
then God put a matchmaker into her life.

The Curly haired young man of twently nine,
thought that God had not heard his prayer, he 
moved out of his parents home to make his
way in the world. His neighbor Mrs. Laurette 
Stewart, thought he would make a fine husband
for the freckled face girl. A blind date was 
set, it was love at first sight and God had
found a mate for the young couple that prayed.

Inspried by James Fraser's poem Farm Girl


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Gratitude

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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Scarred Hands

One day a Mother saved her new born daughter from a raging flame.
Holding her to her bosom,calling out Jesus name.
A Mother love is something only God understands.
The Mother wore gloves to cover her Scarred Hands.

One day when the little girl was older,
She asked her Mother why she always wore  gloves?
She said her hands were scarred and ugly she didn't want her to see
Ths gloves was just another way of showing her love.

One day the little girl pulled the gloves off her Mother Scarred Hands.
She said Mom these hands are not ugly, they are beautiful to me.
These hands are full of a Mother love.
These hands are Scarred Hands of love.

One day the little girl was at Sunday School.
The teacher ask her why her Mother always wore gloves?
Then the little girl told the story how her Mother saved her from the fire
The gloves were a symbol of her love.

Then the teacher told her story about a man who had Scarred Hands
Jesus hands became scarred when He was hung on the cross to save us.
With Jesus on the cross and His Father sharing His love from above.
Jesus also had the Scarred Hands of love


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Sylvan Summer Part III

The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony tail girl [me];
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.

The boys were more than sure this
horrific chore was a girl eraser. 
The mini-men had their gawk, on not at all convinced that this
pretty little missy was going to be up for the job!
And up they must go all those dirty, sticky cluckers!
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!

Up, up, with the upside down
their pointer pecker heads darting 
toward gapes between sock and pantleg.
Their leathery legs in the grip of my small pink hands.
Winging flapping with all their might 
as if they could fly the three of us
right up the poop covered stairs!
 
Oh but these Betty's were beauties.
And each omelet laying pecker
each shoelace eating Grande dame,
each button and barrette bobbing bird
wings flapping, feathers flying,
with their deep brown questioning eyes
must be moved! UP, up to the second floor 
of that p-you-trfying hen house in the heat
of a windless Maine August.

“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers
above the din. “Up stairs 
with the whole damn lot of them!”

The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of my chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
we troop gingerly, over the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
For they weren't going to get rid of me that easily
no man ever has [wink].



*More for Carry and Bob


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Love doesnt make sense

Boy 1 was such a good person He deserved the perfect woman 
Boy 1 was talking to girl 1 
But girl 1 was with boy 2 
But boy 2 kept breaking girl 1’s heart 
Boy 1 had encountered some of the most evil women ever 
Girl 1 went to boy 1 
after girl 1 broke up with boy 2 
But girl 1 didn’t know who to choose 
Boy 1 had been talking to other girls 
Just in case such as girls 2 and 3 
But boy 1 forgot about girl 3 
And decided to stick with girls 1 and 2 
Girl 1 was very confused 
So boy one went to girl 2 
But boy 1 and girl 1 had a lot of history with eachother 
Boy 1 wanted her 
But he wanted her now 
Boy 1 and girl 2 had a lot in common but 
It wasn’t enough 
Boy 1 finally went on a date with girl 1 
After…girl 1 still had feeling s for boy 2 
So she went back with boy 2 
And left boy 1 lonely 
Boy 1 tried to talk to girl 2 again 
But girl 2 is who he want s to talk to now 
Boy 1 as of right now is alone… 
Love doesn’t make sense……
but what of girl 4....
is there a chance?????


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Sylvan Summer Part II

The sun barbequed the skin, raising a tenderized pink glow 
to the cheeks of the children in the ramshackle red barn.
The three story hay loft partly empty was bristling with tikes.
Pincushioned with straw, sharp as needles,
in their hair, tee-shirts and socks 
an “itch-o-rama” of gross magnitude. 

Hoarse screams of “Geronimo!”
propel a girl child out ward, over the abyss;
letting go directly over the haystack on the first floor.
Barn boards groan under the weight of her flailing form.
Sweet, so sticky sweet, was the air with sweat, hayseed, and manure.
Red welts form on errant scratches rising up on the her skinny arms.

The boy plops from the thick dangling rope inches from her.
“Hi-Ho Silver!” he hollers; kissing her cheek with a big wet raspberry,
running deer-like from the barn doors toward the pastures awaiting bossy.
Up the stone tossed rock wall he clambers at ankle breaking pace.
Leaping from stone wall to the cow’s back;
“Come on, chicken!” he yells.

The girl follows more timidly watching out for 
the broken, blue-bottle, glass shards 
that poke out from between the fieldstones.
Reaching cow side, she blows brown hair from her face.
Hands on her tiny hips, she eyes the cow and rider.
The cow's evil eye stares at her from one side of its huge head.

He slaps the cow's rump. Sneakers wail into cowhide 
and with an indignant bellow of disgust rider and cow are off, girless,
toward the saltlick, leaving the kiss 
and the red barn, but a memory. 


*PS I am the girl LOL, I had a kissin' Cousin!


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Needle in a Haystack

The sun barbequed the skin, raising a tenderized pink glow to the cheeks of the children in the ramshackle red barn. The three story hay loft partly empty was bristling with tikes. Pincushioned with straw, sharp as needles, in their hair, tee-shirts and socks an “itch-o-rama” of gross magnitude. Hoarse screams of “Geronimo!” propel a girl child out ward over the abyss; letting go directly over the haystack on the first floor. Barn boards groan under the weight of her flailing form. Sweet, so sticky sweet, was the air with sweat, hayseed, and manure. Red welts form on errant scratches rising up on the her skinny arms. The boy plops from the thick dangling rope inches from her. “Hi-Ho Silver!” he hollers; kissing her cheek with a big wet raspberry, running deer-like from the barn doors toward the pastures awaiting bossy. Up the stone tossed rock wall he clambers at ankle breaking pace. Leaping from stone wall to the cow’s back; “Come on, chicken!” he yells. The girl follows more timidly watching out for the broken, blue-bottle, glass shards that poke out from between the fieldstones. Reaching cow side, she blows brown hair from her face. Hands on her tiny hips, she eyes the cow and rider. The cow evil eye stares at her from one side of its huge head. He slaps the cows rump. Sneakers wail into cowside and with an indignant bellow of disgust rider and cow are off, girless, toward the saltlick, leaving the kiss and the red barn, but a memory.


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a rose

A rose lay dead and dry
As a Girl sits to cry
The rose feels her tears
but knows not of her fears
The dead, dry rose can sense her pain and sorrow
For it too has no tommorrow
Alas that girl and the rose will sit there together and crumble
Their souls shall tumble
And the two will wither away
They'll both rot today
That girl and the dead, dry rose will never see another sunrise again
For today their end began....


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Sylvan Summer Part III The Girl Eraser Not

The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony tail girl;
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.

Horrific chore, girl eraser, the boys gawk on.
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!
Up, up, with the upside down 
omelet laying peckers.
Grande dames lance laces,
buttons and barrettes.
wing flap, feathers fly,
deep brown questioning eyes.

“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers
above the din. “Up stairs 
with the whole damn lot of them!”
The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of her chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
they troop gingerly over the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!





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this is love

A boy sees a girl
As their eyes meet, his naive heart begin to flutter  
A smile brightens her face, showing her full beauty
As the boy tucks his head in embarrassment, he pauses
Looking up at the girl he knows
He knows she will be something special in his life

A girl sees a boy
As their eyes meet, her fragile heart flutters
Her mind warns her of his reputation,
While her heart forces her to bear a smile
As her face turns red she pauses
Looking at this boy she knew
She knew there was something about him…

Now a man sees a woman
As their eyes meet, both lean in for another kiss
Their faces bear smiles, showing their happiness
As they both turn to walk away, they pause
Looking back at each other they realize…
This once shy boy and this once scared girl…
 Suddenly they know…..this is love!


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Mirror Image

Mirror Image

An image shimmers in the mirror
a reflection I can't perceive
The child looking back at me
maybe lonely and deceived

Do I see some tears fall
the face so small and dear
The image seems so vague
reflecting from the mirror

I reach to touch the image
as fragile as it seems
With hope to bring her comfort
and wake her from her dreams

I need to know about her
will she answer me
I hear a little whisper
just ask me and you'll see

I ask the little girl
are the tears of joy or pain
She whispers once again
does the sunshine does it rain

You see I have no answers
the whisper slowly dies
For I am just an image
and you're the one who cries

I look into the mirror
the little girl I see
The perfect mirror image
that little girl is me

BY: Terri Lynn Vienneau Written: 11/30/1994


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A soldier's daughter

There once was a girl with pale blond hair.
	
	She went with her family one day to a fair.

	They played lots of games and ate lots of food.

	But none of this seemed to brighten the child's mood.

	So they went to the park and swung for a while.

	Her parents silently wishing to see their little girl smile.

	But deep inside she still felt sad.

	For she knew something terrible about her dad.

	Tomorrow her dad would be going far far away.

	To a place that's fighting nearly everyday.

	She knows her dad is a very strong man.

	Still she fears she'll never see him again.

	The years go by and she grows older.

	Living each day the daughter of a fallen soldier.

	There once was a woman with pale blond hair.

	Who found out too early that life doesn't always play fair.


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Fallen Angel

There was a girl
She loved and laughed
She was one of God's angels
Her smile could light up the dark
Her heart was pure and trusting
She didn't know pain or heartache
Her wings were wide and flowing
Like downy feathers of a chick
And her halo was untarnished
And it had never been bent
She believed in nothing but happiness
Her beautiful eyes had never cried
And others looked upon her
With love, laughter, and hope
The little girl was broken
Someone shattered her crystal world
And as glass confetti rained down
She realized she was torn
Her wings had been broken
And they were covered in her blood
For her body had been violated
And she was innocent no more
Her halo lay at her feet
Bent sorrowfully in half
And she looked up to heaven
And heard a pitiful laugh
The little girl cried endlessly
She couldn't fix her wings
To fly up and sing with the angels
Was all she had wished to do
But because she was broken
It became all to clear
That little girl, she died that day
And I am what remains
A fallen angel


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The Girl I Love

             The Girl I Love
Nearly thirty seven years of marriage bliss. 
   To think it all started with just one kiss.
The time has gone so quickly by.
   Our love has climbed to the top so high.
I cannot picture you not being here.
   To share my life you are my dear.
We’ve had bad days that made us strong.
   We’ve learned to apologize when we do wrong.
No one thought it would last a year.
   But I knew what I wanted and that was to have you near.
Four kids ago now are grown by far.
   Now it’s the grandkids that rob our cookie jar.
God’s been good to say the least.
   It’s good when they come to visit to dine and feast.
She’s my sugar and my spice, the one I call my darling wife.
   I thank you Lord for putting her in my life. 
I truly love her more than words can ever say.
   And the love keeps growing each day by day.
She is my very own lucky charm.
   You sheltered me through many storms.
She is the crutch that holds me up.
   And her love overflows  her loving cup.
Till death do we forever part.
   You’re that little girl that stole my heart.


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Determined Black Girl

In school by herself,
Working and talking with nobody else.
All alone in this worl’
Is a young black girl.

She is ignored and mistreated,
by the teachers and students alike.
If people see her they judge her,
and spray paint profanity on her bike.

She's still happy.
Determined that her dreams will come true.
Fearing nothing but fear itself,
this girl is angry at nobody but herself.

Angry, angry, angry.
Because of being a woman.
Because of the color of her skin.
But, yet this girl is determined to win.

She takes no stress and tries her best.
Not because she's a black woman
that wants to have fun,
But because she is determined to be someone.


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Breaking The Rules

Breaking The Rules
My little girl who just started attending school.
      Asked me daddy, do we have to follow each and every rule?
And I answered, yes my love, we must obey.
     But daddy, she said, I have to pray.
Daddy you taught me, give thanks before we eat.
     And to thank the Lord is such a treat.
The teacher scolded me and made me cry.
     She said you can’t do that here but wouldn’t answer why.
The other kids laughed and pointed at me.
     Daddy I wanted to hide to run and flee.
I don’t want to go back not ever again.
     I don’t like it there daddy is that a sin?
Well I picked her up and said I’ll tell you what.
    Don’t you ever stop praising the Lord you give it all you’ve got.
She squeezed my neck so very hard.
    And said I love you daddy, you and the Lord.
If I must home school then that’s what I’ll do.
    But my little girl is going to follow You.


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The Story of the Dumpster Diver

 I asked him what he did?
    As he stood up and opened the lid.
He said some people call me a dumpster diver but hey that’s okay.
     He said I just reuse what people throwaway.
I asked him aren’t you afraid you might catch some incurable disease?
     He said you can do that just breathing the stuff that floats in the breeze.
I said it just seems like you’re taking an awful big chance.
    He did not speak but his eyes met my wandering glance.
I asked him did you choose this life or was it thrust upon you?
    He said I once had a home a really nice one too.
A little girl and a wife every mans dream.
     Everything was perfect like a fairytale theme.
One evening quite late we started home from the park.
     And I saw this car coming and saw flashes in the dark.
It was bullets they were firing that struck us all three.
     One hit my arm and one struck my knee.
One struck my wife they said it went right through her heart.
    The one my little girl caught ripped her apart.
My money all went for paying doctors, and morticians and such.
     In six months time I lost my family, home, and job that’s why now I don’t care 
too much.
I could have drawn unemployment, welfare and stuff.
     But instead I just turned to the streets I’ve just had enough. 
I said man I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know.
     He said that’s okay I catch it everywhere I go.
Well I bid him fair well and silently turned away.
     I often think about that old dumpster diver and the words he had to say.
I guess if this were to have a moral: How about never judge a book by its cover.


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Just a Fling

It started off as just a fling 
Nothing serious a simple thing 
Then my love for her grew deep 
It became hard for me to sleep 
People said we were too young 
Though we were she was the one 
Even still with feelings strong 
I was forced to do her wrong 
Cause I was just a scared young boy 
I played with her like a toy 
Then one day first period came 
I heard that girl shout my name 
I looked at her and walked away 
Not knowing her changes every day 
From the secrets that she had 
I learned that I would be a dad 
My time with her I did deny 
Now I wish I didn't lie 
She looked at me with such disgust 
In my words she once did trust 
How could I put her through such pain 
So I could be arrogant and vain 
Now the day is drawing near 
Would she still love me was my fear 
Or was my timing way too late 
To regain her trust and change our fate 
When I approached with teary eyes 
Her love for me she did not deny 
She told me that she loved my so 
And she never wanted me to go
She formed me to a whole new man
One who could love and understand
So with the largest stomach at graduation
I was her rock her foundation
And as those 9 months they quickly passed
I thought our love would forever last
One night she called and I awoke
When she yelled "MY WATER BROKE"
Just as fast as my happiness came
All my sunshine turned to rain
The doctors made me leave the room
At once there were screams that made my ears boom
I tried to suck it up and hold in my pride
But when I said I was okay it was all a lie
The doctor came out all teary eyed
"the girl u loved, she instantly died"
"but your baby sir she's healthy and safe
6 pounds 9 ounces that is her weight"
When I looked at you all I could do was smile
My pain left me for a little while
Now in you your mother she lives
In the sparks in your eyes and the warmth in your kiss
And though it started off as just a fling
To me your mother was everything