The congregation eyed him skeptically
Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
This rambler had just come in from the street
He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
When he greeted God with a gentle tongue
“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
But He was not repelled by their contempt
“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
I ask for forgiveness, make them aware
“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis
Some of the congregation dwell below
But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
Appearances he did never deride
*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest
My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess
He left when I was three
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us
For another woman and a couple of beers
He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike
To teach me how to fish
Or enjoy a nature hike
Now I'm a father to my son
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake
It's been nine years and we're going strong
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine
My son I guard in a web I've spun
A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing
My son doesn't know the pain I feel
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting)
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......
My tale is from the time of Rome
Away across the sea
The tale of one called Jesus Christ
From distant Galilee
He placed Himself at God's command
Accepting all His will
Accomplishing the work of God
From Tyre to Olive's hill
He walked the streets and sailed the seas
He healed the blind and lame
Since Jesus came and changed the world
It's never been the same
He hung upon a cross of wood
To save from Adam's fate
He lived and worked among the poor
And died in low estate
He turned the world right upside-down
With nothing but His love
And now He watches us with care
From heaven's court above
-- Written 1/14/2013 --
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Your going has left a hole in my heart that time,
The Great Healer, cannot repair.
Your going has left a hole in my existence
That forever and beyond will not heal,
A hole ever expanding from its own nothingness,
A hole through which all the goodness,
All the kindness of you is slipping through.
You were my sounding board.
Trite ideas offered, came back
Enhanced, brilliant and sparkling.
Borrowing intelligence from you, I grew wiser.
Doors opened before me as I strove to be worthy
Of you, my beloved son.
I go on now as you would have me do,
Searching in Nature for the joy
You found in its wonders.
Hearing bird songs with your ears,
Relating to others with your empathetic instincts.
Striving, ever striving to be the person
And mother that you believed me to be
And never letting your memory grow dim
For those you loved and for whom you sacrificed.
You came into this world with a wisdom
That did not come from me.
I thank God each day for His lending you to me
For the time that I had you near
And I cling to His promise
That I will see you again.
I could not tell from whence you came,
Born with a wisdom that did not come from me,
And I do not know where you have gone,
Part of myself, the better part--into Eternity.
Originally entered as verse
A Letter to my Son
Your going has left a hole in my heart
That Time, that great healer cannot repair.
Your going left space in my existence
That forever and more will still be there.
Ever expanding from it nothingness
A hole from which your goodness has slipped through.
The kindnesses you wore as a halo
Have disappeared as well since I lost you.
I used you as a sounding boad to measure
The wisdom and the beauty of the world.
Your ideas were so clear and brilliant,
Through you my own best aptitudes unfurled.
I'm trying to live up to your standards.
I want to be more worthy of you, Son.
You told me once I was the perfect mother,
And with you life was such a lot of fun.
I thank God every day for loan of you.
The time we had was more than worth the pain.
And now I'm clinging tight to his promise
That some day I will see you once again.
I do not know from whence you came,
Blessed with wisdom that did not come from me.
Each day I pray I know where you have gone;
Taking my heart into Eternity.
A small grave, and for it's weeds was bare
with only a handmade wooden cross.
Easy to see that a child rest there.
Poor unloved young soul was my first thought.
Well I read this cross, for this child of grief.
"John my young son so frail and fair
my joy, my love, my life I leave
to the arms of your mother and Lord's care."
The back read; "To doctors all my money I gave
I cannot buy even a simple stone
with a borrowed spade, I have dug your grave,
I carve this marker, and am now alone."
That wooden cross, seemed to rise
high above great marble markers.
Thoughts rush my mind as I realized
the pain this poor man's heart had harbored.
Never again his son he will see
knowing his child would rests under cold ground.
As unkempt as this grave seemed to be,
with it's wooden cross and it’s weeds all around.
I pulled at those weeds with my bare hand
then my flowers I laid at the foot of that cross.
I prayed "Please God, help me understand"
as I felt the pain of another man's loss.
He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.
Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears,
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!
I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!
I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father;
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?
He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!
Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep;
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!
Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "
His innocence lies in the very unknowing
Of what is the truth as he just keeps on growing
He questions the birds in the sky up above
He warms us with laughter and endows us with love
Every question from him is so serious, yet
I have to laugh, from the look that he gets
He’s often a handful, but with a heart that’s so wide
As he often states feelings that he just cannot hide
She is his sister; she’s a bit stronger and taller
Which makes him seem younger, just so much smaller
There in her heart, she, too, has her ways
Of giving us sunshine on the darkest of days
She’s dramatic and active, an athlete to boot
She’s the younger of my girls, who’s so very cute
She’s willful, demanding, but yet can be coy
She’s a blessing from above, an angel of joy
There, even older, another girl blessed us so
It’s been fun watching her age, fun watching her grow
She’s not yet an adult, but seems to just know it all
I hope in her assumptions, she never suffers a fall.
However, she my daughter and a real beauty at that
Who often asks us parents if her clothes make her fat
I guess it’s her age, but that’s the norm for these girls
I’ll love her like my baby girl, as she outgrows her curls
Then there’s the man, my oldest boy, he’s so wise
He grew up so fast, right before our very eyes
He’s sensitive and caring, so smart, gives respect
He’ll be quite the man, very successful I just bet
Though, he too, is a teen and subject to the pressure
He still does so much to which others don’t measure
He rounds off the family, he, my oldest boy
As all of them, together, bring just so much joy
I cried along with you when I heard on the phone
Your first cries as you made yourself known
With little fists flying and a voice to be heard
You let everyone know, you would not be deferred.
With angelic eyes and a cute little nose
You were pink and rosy, right down to your toes
Everyone cooing, laughing and yes a tear too
For the new life and blessing on your day of debut.
With a head full of hair the color of fawn
Born in the morning just before dawn
You visited awhile and then went out like a light
An angel needs rest to shine that bright.
So welcome Aimee Michelle, we’ve waited so long
To have you with us; to hear your life song
Never doubt for a moment how much you are loved
You are our blessing that God sent from above.
*To my son who lost a son last year but was blessed last night with a daughter. I
couldn't be there due to illness so I only got to hear her first cries over the phone.
A smile that warms her heart.
With bright, shining Angel eyes.
Soon his whole world would fall apart.
When he sadly watched as his Mother dies.
No one to listen or believe what he saw.
For years the truth lie in wait.
Each passing day, the pain made him raw.
And for his step-dad rose a new level of hate.
A troubled youth is what he'd come to be.
Violence, drugs and alcohol to deal with the pain.
When the truth came out it didn't set him free.
Watching for Santa as his Mother was slain.
After years, Justice was served for his Mother's death.
But her kids would have no justice at all.
They would never hold her again so they remained bereft.
She'll never be there for them to hug, kiss or call.
She loved her kids, especially her eldest son.
She was taken too soon by a drunk, selfish bully.
He didn't care who he hurt or what he did to anyone.
Its not something her children could understand fully.
Her son now sits in his own personal Hell.
Taken away from society to pay for his unrelated crimes.
So now he stays in that six by six prison cell.
Hoping that he'll heal in a matter of time.
I'm here for him and I remain his friend.
I wait for that shine to return to his now haunted eyes.
For that smile to brighten from his sad, dull grin.
I'm someone who can love him and quiet his cries.
My heart is on Your shoulders,
And You are lifting me up.
With every spoken tender gesture,
I fall a little farther in love.
I have some choices to face,
But these are not my decisions to make.
God told me what He wants me to do;
He said, "Listen, Son, I have a plan for you."
Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!
Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.
As the orchid blooms its long beautiful flower
The perfume of which fills the air hour by hour
The strength in its leave when open from bud
No decay just a little wrinkle as in age it should
If Orchis the son of the nymph and satyr
Had not drunk of the vine and showed his desire
As he drank long and hard at the feast of Dionysus
His eyes fell on a priestess and caused all the fuss.
He wanted her, was his drunken decree
And he didn’t care if she didn’t want he
He coveted the priestess as he drank by the hour
Determined he was soon her going to deflower.
His advances she said she would not take
But he did not listen and her he would make
But for this insult to a revered priestess
The gods were determined he’d pay for her distress
He would not go unpunished this was THEIR decree
And ripped limb from limb they decreed he would be
The bacchanalians did tear him apart and justly so
He should have accepted the priestess she said NO!
The father of Orchis prayed the Gods would restore
The son that he loved and would for evermore
After they listened to the prayers of a father distraught
The Gods returned Orchis not as a man but as a flower they thought.
Orchis became the flower with the strange sounding name
Whose beauty enchants and its perfume does the same
The orchid, the bulbs shape we will recognise today
The part under the body, where a man likes us to play.
~Mirror in my pocket~
Many years ago my Nana gave to me
A little pocket mirror, and she told me I would see
“See what Nan” I asked looking deep into the smokey glass
“You will see yourself” she smiled, and called me her "lovely lass"
It is a mirror so what did she mean, yet my Nan was very wise
And looking into the mirror, I didn’t recognise my eyes
Is this a trick I asked my Nan, while looking deep into the glass?
No trick lass, just a mirror but take heed of what comes to pass.
I slipped it in my pocket, thanked her and said goodbye
On the journey home I looked into the mirror, and it made me cry
Deep into the smokey glass I peered, but nothing I could see
No reflection of myself and I wondered how that could be.
A woman then looked out of the glass, tears pooled in the saddened eyes
A face that was not my own, it was my Nan to my great surprise
She smiled and disappeared, my own reflection replaced hers there
Shocked and surprised, I replaced the mirror, with tender care.
I reached my home sixty miles away and lifted out the glass
A woman that resembled me smiled, and I wondered what had come to pass
Weeks did pass my mirror became a treasure never left behind
Because when I looked into it, it was of my Nan it did remind.
Then the day, I saw the mirror so grey and full of gloom
I peered into it knowing there was some impending doom
My Nans face appeared, and with tears she mouthed goodbye
That was the day she died, and the day the mirror cried.
The mirror, I keep close, as she did,it means so much to me
I will pass it onto my son when I think he needs to see
To the woman i loved and miss, my reflection changed slow-ly
It’s now the same one looking out, as when my Nan gave the mirror to me.
Time has passed the years have gone, my mirror is smokey grey
I’ll pass it on to my son so he can be ready for the day.
I took heed of the mirror over the years and what comes to pass
I saw that we all grow old and my Nan showed me, with a looking glass.
In a forest a girl was born
A girl born oh so poor
This girl then caused this world now torn
Her birth opens a sore
But we do not now this girl mourn
She was left some money
A thrifty woman not to scorn
Then a taste of honey
She met a man she was forlorn
Bore a son Alois
Unwed and aging, no ring worn
No ring, so still a Miss.
Her bastard son none could be warned
When his mother did wed
He gave a name the world did scorn
A name that all wished dead
If his mother knew what was born
Hitler the name we know
I wonder would she have been torn?
To give him birth, or no.
© 09/01/2013 ~GG~
It was a glorious day
I can say as I held you in my arms
You were my little Boy....
Oh I still dream, About all of You
You were mine, my happiness made me cry
To say the least, your Kisses are songs
and you were mine, but now so gone
The dreams are still there, Oh baby of mine..
I give to you all my kisses, I give to you
The words I know, Dreaming of days
Your kisses so pure, My little baby boy
This brings a tear to eye, I miss the heart
That overflows, The truth of someone’s Woes.
A rare and precious Moment, Which it goes and goes
To be lost into, Nothingness
My son you are Gone From me the dreams of you
Oh baby of mine
This is dedicated to the son I lost TWENTY one years ago. My heart still breaks. The pain never goes away.
As you peel back one layer you will a bit more of me
Each layer defines parts that the naked eye may not see
The outer layer is tough resistant and seems weather proof
Just one more layer down is where you start to find the truth.
Peel off a third one and that’s where my feelings are hidden
Not on the surface to be played with or abused when bidden
Another layer down is where my tears are caught and held back.
Until the hurt of death and squalor, that layer attack
The last layer you may peel from me, I hold on to so tight
I don’t want you to see my heart naked, in the harsh light.
The layer that covers my heart and keeps it safe from abuse
Life constantly picks at it and it’s not really much use.
I tried so hard to keep that one in place and safe from harm
Then life produces its peeler, which I would like to disarm.
It endlessly peels away at the layers of my protection
Leaving me vulnerable and weak and open to infection.
To fight back at life I have found a small good cure all
And that is what lets me walk on the edge, I totter but not fall.
In times of trouble and death, pain, anger and even love
Look for the silver lining that helps give this life a little shove.
Shove these things aside; they will get dealt with in a while
Knowing that whatever it is, will be behind us - so smile.
The layer that keeps our minds strong and yes even clear
Needs the most attention, it gives us hope, love, and even fear
Good things and bad things all come and go day by day
But we find we always look back on them and so we can say
Another day passed though we never forget the pain
Let me replace that layer now and cover my heart again
A smile helps to build up the layers and keeps me on life’s path
As does love, friendship and forgiveness, and a smile turns back wrath.
When we feel we can never smile ever again in a thousand lifetimes
We will look back and find the memory dims and the sun returns to shine
My layers are there I try to build them and keep them supple and strong
But sometimes they get ripped in a wrench and I think I am wrong
Straight to the point where my heart beats and is exposed to life’s ills
Time to pay the piper, as he comes to collect on life’s bills.
Laughter the best medicine and that I truly believe
But there’s a time to laugh and then there is a time to grieve
Time to think and to fight, love and to perhaps even pray
I hope my layers will keep intact, and get me through another tough day.
© ~GG~ 25/12/2012
My son had to work today, he is a supervisor on a motorway service station. He came home to us at the end of his shift for any comfort we could give him because of a motor accident just past where he works that took the lives of two children and an adult and seriously injured two more. He had to get access for the emergency services and then deal with angry motorists as he had to block them trying to re-enter the motorway, while things were dealt with. His one thought was how the families would now cope, not only with the losses but that fact that it would taint their Christmas celebrations for the rest of their lives.
Although we do not celebrate Christmas he is so concerned for their feelings he is finding it difficult to cope with. My heart grieves not only for them and their horrendous ordeal, but my son whose heart has been laid open to their pain.
Black Diamond Night
The rapier of light cut through the black velvet night
Two lovers looked up at the first star tonight
Look see, that star light above
But she could not see, the star was her love…
Bodies lying spent under the warm black sky
The rapier of light like a javelin poised high
His body glistening in the extending glare
Her eyes blocked by her lovers breath to share.
He stands and looks up to the gods above
You thought you could take me from this woman I love.
Thor looking down at his son now a mortal
Power he would give to his grandsons through his portal.
His son once a demi,-god, now a mortal man
He vowed he would help, in any way he can
The light strikes his son from the black velvet sky
His back arched in pain his thoughts wondered why!
His lover lay replete on the damp flattened ground
Unaware of the pain and the light all around
Her lover stands his beauty abounds
In his hand a weight his fingers surround.
His heart is heavy, his father has cast him
As he opens his hand, his breath he does gasp in.
There in the palm of his hand he held tight
The most beautiful diamond from the black velvet night.
His heart is softened, he know it does mean
His father’s not forsaken him, his love he has seen
He takes his lover in arms, holds her tight
As they make sweet love under the black diamond night.
© ~GG~ 18/08/2012
I give to you
The words I know Dreaming of days so pure
Your kisses so precious My little baby boy;
This brings a tear to eye
I miss the heart, That overflows
The truth of someone’s Woes
A rare and precious Moment
Which it goes and goes. To be lost into
Nothingness I know it shows...
My son you are, Gone, From me
the dreams of you never leaves
my heart griefs
Oh baby of mine....
For me In Heaven My little Son
Hang on baby
Hang on Don’t cry
One day I will see you
Oh baby of mine
and my dreams
will be fulfilled....
Oh Baby of mine
My heart breaks Just to know
I will Never see your face
So precious Are thee
My darling Son
That was to come
A rare and precious moment
Were you, Oh Baby of mine.....
Brooke Dylan 2014
My son upon this Christmas Eve
I reminisce of midnight hours
Your fingers dancing over tenuous keys
And the emotions your talent empowers
I couldn't comprehend how you taught yourself to play
Or just how this symphony of one became
The songs you have inside of you like heaven on display
I revel in your poignant craft uniquely unprofaned
It's true that your propensity
Can lean toward darkened depth
A common vein for artists
To be moody and depressed
For your pain releases beauty
by your gift it's voice relates
You know your in the masters company
of Mozart, Bach, and Hemingway
So when your struggles weigh
As the sea laden oceans sand
Take your seat and breathe
Stretch out your feral hands
Creating an instrumental euphoria
For the lonely and the damned
Open the gate to moods your feigning
Though others will misunderstand
Christmas Eve and it's memories
This flashback came my way
Of your very first piano
The best investment I ever made
But one day when I'm aged and old
It will be you who cares for me
Play for me then on that Christmas Eve
With your love in every stroke
My memory fades like an early morning fog
But you my son I know by heart
The impossible miles you alone have trod
An uphill climb from first breaths start
Fluid filled those vacant places
Where only your brain should have claimed
Of a viable life the prediction was traces
For a life that would be horribly lame
Those Doctors didn't conceive you
You were mine from beginning to end
I said "he's my son not a knot to undo
When termination was suggested and penned
I loved you then and I know you now
Every obstacle you've overcome
A 3.7 GPA you've made it to manhood somehow
I knew to that prognosis you would never succumb
Of every therapy under the sun
You would never quit or complain
Though your struggles were bitter and stung
You took pride in the promise of your name
Josiah - Healed by God -
A humble man in the kingdom of men
Now I see you promised to a beauty
The wife I hoped for you then
Soon your quest to be a teacher
When you've earned your final degrees
In the eyes of our future you'll be a leader
The proof of what belief can achieve
Your spirit is tenderness
Your ways are sweet
You abound in being real and generous
And acquire the love of all that you meet
My son with eyes filled of turquoise and brown
Know this... if my memory entirely in time depart
My pride in you will forbear my lips to frown
For my son, I know you by heart!
(English translation below original French)
Rappelez-vous les petits fils
Qui ecoutaient leurs grand-peres
Raconter des histoires d’ infanteries
Et de battailles de la premiere guerre.
Rappelez-vous des braves garcons
Qui s’imaginaient etre des soldats,
Qui plus tard servaient le drapeau American
En tant que veritables soldats.
Rappelez-vous des pauvres parents
Qui ont recu des telegrammes et des lettres,
Et qui apres ont place indefiniment
Des etoiles d’ors aux fenetres.
Rappelez-vous de chaque petite amie
Qui esperait un jour se marier
Avec son beau voisin-ami
Qui ne va jamais plus rentrer.
Rappelez-vous des nouvelles jeunes veuves,
Avec ses petits orphelins des peres,
Qui devaient subir les enormes epreuves
D’elever leurs enfants sans l’aide des peres.
N’oubliez pas les anciens jeunes garcons—
Les chanceux qui ont survecu
Et regardent souvent les horizons lointains
Cherchant leures ami-fantomes qui ne sont jamais revenues.
Remember the grandsons
Who listened to their grandfathers
Tell stories of infantries
And battles of the first war.
Remember brave boys
Who pretended to be soldiers
Who later served the American flag
As real soldiers
Remember the poor parents
Who received telegrams and letters
And who afterward indefinitely placed
Gold stars in their windows.
Remember each girlfriend
Who hoped to marry someday
Her handsome neighbor/friend
Who will never come back again.
Remember the new young widows,
With their little fatherless children
Who had to undergo the enormous ordeals
Of raising children without a father’s help.
Don’t forget the former young boys-
The lucky ones who survived,
And often look at the far horizons
For their phantom-friends that never returned.
When I was just a kid,
I’d watch you dress in blue.
Knowing that someday,
I’d be just like you.
When you’d leave my eyes brimmed,
And quickly started to stream.
I idolized you in everyway,
And wanted to live your dream.
Now that I am older,
I realize I’m like you.
Polishing my badge,
And walking in your shoes.
I think about your words,
While filling in my blotter.
I’m pleased to be like you;
The pride of son to father.
SH ME THIS IS THE QUINTESSENTIAL
WAY TO DO IT
Chances are I won’t be able to do this well at all
Now that my mother is about to answer God’s final call
The doctor assures us she hasn’t very long to live
And that is grievous because she’s always had so much to give
She was always quick to dispense whatever I might need
And advise me on things with wisdom’s words I usually did not heed
“Don’t do that Son, because you’re tribulations might double”
And true to her admonition I would only gain more in trouble
My mother, my mom, my rock and my salvation
And now her days are too speedily coming to a cessation
If only one morning she didn’t awaken to the dawning of a brand new day
That, for me, would have been a much simpler and speedier way
Easier when compared to the burden I now bear
Complicated by a massive amount of remorse and sheer fear
I understand how much more time she’s had than many others
But she’d have so much more time were I to have my druthers
Well, at least I gave her a grandson and his son to adore
Oh, but if only I could have given her so much more
More honesty, more happiness and so much more joy
But instead I’ve given her heartache since a very young boy
God knows this is a task which I won’t do very well
And I beseech God, “how do I do this, pray tell?”
I know His answer would only add frustration to my fear
Because the Lord also knows that this is a burden I bodily cannot bear
© 2009…..Rita Cohan’s loving son Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
With loving remembrances, hurtful remorse and the kind of love a son can only have for such a special kind of mom
The passage is the way,,
of the almighty,,
and the son of,,
The Holy Ghost prepares you,
therefore I have engaged,,
to self inline, the heavens,
beyond my years, into new life,
unto the rebirth of Christ,
to be resurrected again,,
I BLESS HIS SUCCESS
If a father’s success can be measured by that of his son
Then with certainty I am as successful as anyone
If a father’s job ends when his son is a success
Then I have a victory to openly confess
I look at a man and see the man I would have liked to become
I am brimming over with utter pride and then some
My son has taught me humility and the meaning of self-esteem
And has brought to fruition every father’s ultimate dream
If I am not the man that I had planned to be
but at least I can say my son has done much more than me
He continues to astound me with every passing day
By how he gives back to the world in every way
If a man’s character can be gauged by that of his son
Than this father has as much character as anyone
Although he has no real reason to be proud of me
I am more than proud of the man he’s come to be
clarence darrow opined that the sins of a father fall on the shoulders of his children...man am I glad that didn't hold true for you!
I was born underwater with lungs oversized,
With gills immature in a world full of smog,
I'm filling petition to be cauterized,
And end other chapter in life’s fragile log.
I was born black and white with extremities gray,
The plaintiff accuses what I might hide,
It's nothing but SOUL constantly at play,
With spoonfuls of turquoise rolling down off life's slide...
Implosion of rainbows will probably be
The cause of my passing unknown and alone.
When thrown overboard and deep into sea
I'll finally return to my home long time gone...
I've moved in a place with no windowless chamber,
Where time has no meaning and waiting is painless,
If I had any hopes, I swear - don't remember...
And don't recognize him, his sorrow is senseless.
I have died underwater, reborn in blue nights,
Don't need oxygen to play with the whales.
Remember when watching those great Northern Lights
That Mother is smiling behind Nature’s veils.
for Constances contest "Mother"
Son of Stones
A Rock that split
This wretch begot...
So, douse me with grit
My mirth is got.
My praise arouse
Who built with stone
This Fort of a house.
I wear dread locks*
To their martyrdom (e)
Who built from rocks
My Zimbabwe Home.
Great is the hand
That moved stones
With a magic wand
When a curse you spit
I’m an enraged King
When stones you split
To Life I spring!
Great House o’ Stone
Is partly Me
Stone on top o’ Stone
Built what set me free!
***A dedication to the Great Zimbabwe Ruins, a monument whose structure is a marvel
of human ingenuity.
***I don’t wear dread locks actually. This is recognition to those who do so as epitomes
of freedom fighting, the likes of Bob Marley.
29th Oct’ 2013