Born I was, still alive today, down, but I'll be back to say
Even at a small age, when our house burnt to the ground
Disorientated, confused, in it's smoke filled surround
With no other place to go, to a Caravan we called our home
It was the events after this, that allowed my mind to roam
Little me playing in a field, on a broken bottle I fell
Crimson fountains erupted, I survived, as I'm here to tell
That Monday night so special, Boys Brigade we headed to be
I tried to run faster, but my brother was faster than me
Out of the opening he went, boy running, was he skilled
He was there, but gone the next, knocked down, my brother killed
My mind now in roam and wander, fathers health started to slide
Where does a seven year old turn to, to whom does he confide
Pillar to post I headed, fostered out, and to children's homes
Six years later many more tears, my father in deathly roam
To my father I kept my promise, to the Royal Navy I would go
Whilst training, caught under a raft, my life nearing slow
Pulled from the water was I, nearly drained of what little I had
A release of water, a gasp of air, hours later feeling so glad
Eventually what I'd always wanted, to be happy and family be
Married to the girl whom I'd know, would love to marry me
But to a colleague I'd declared my worries, of a phone call I'd take
For History would repeat itself, to awaken to a possible wake
That call finally arrived, to the telephone, speaking to my eldest son
Liam his younger brother, knocked down, my tears in run
I'm blessed that he was saved, which cancelled out that call
I only wish that technology was, that I'd have a firewall
This is me up to date, apart this last weekend
Again I thought I lost my youngest, once again relieved of strain
Hours up at the Hospital, the first human skull I've seen
A serious cut to his head, but what it could have been
This my life's chapter, around the corner we never know
But all I can say to the above, around me continues to glow
Copyright © James Fraser
My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.
He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”
In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
It hurts to be me
It hurts to be lonely
The emotions inside me
Are aching endlessly
I miss my friends dearly
And I wish that they could hear me
I call for them desperately
They don’t know that without them I am empty
I try to explain to people what I feel
But you cannot understand how I feel
And I reminisce on the memories that seem so real
And every day I try to keep my tears concealed
A beautiful girl that is now so far away, the pain lingers
I rerun the memory of us cuddling and playing with each other’s fingers
And even now she doubts that my heart is hers
And the pain cannot be described by any words
And a girl that I love like a sister
I can’t tell her how much I miss her
And I cry when I remember New Year’s Day when I kissed her
Any thought about her and my spine shivers
A friend that comforts me through thick and thin
I would be dead if it weren't for him
And the memories of hanging in his room with the lights dim
And he can’t understand how much I miss him
And a mother that was never even mine
Accepted me at any time
Making a broken child feel fine
And made his heart shine
And the day we were all together for a late night drive
I swear I have never felts so alive
For a moment all the bad memories and lies
They were forgotten and left aside
And Andrew I will always care for
We know pain, misery and more
Even his presence I adore
And He will always be in my hearts core
My friends will always be with my heart
Without them my heart wouldn't even start
Without them I would fall apart
And I hope that I will always be in their heart
Copyright © Nathan Fehr
Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook
In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.
Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.
My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.
North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook
Hold your head up, Grandma would say
and let me pull your hair from your face.
Stand up tall and properly, for a lady
it should look as though it comes naturally.
Oh Grandma, I would say. I just want to go
and with the boys play. I want to fish and
shoot marbles too and maybe some baseball,
if Bobby doesn't come too.
Who is Bobby, she said. Just a boy who doesn't
like girls who with their brothers hang.
Well maybe Bobby is right and a lovely girl
such as you, shouldn't be talking such slang.
I long to be where the boys are for they have
so much fun, it beats cooking and knitting
silly hats and gloves. Give it time and you
will see, she said, that being a lady is what
God has meant for you to be.
I would lay awake each night as I grew and I
dreamed of the places my brothers seen
and Bobby too. I always knew when they were
to return home for most often it was when the
cherry blossoms scented the lawn.
Then there came that Spring day when all of them
came home late, but all I could see was
Bobby standing at gate.
My heart did flutter and my cheeks, I knew were
flushed. I never knew I had also missed Bobby
just as much.
It has been 4 years now and I still wear Bobby's ring and
two beautiful children that in cherry blossoms we play.
I often think back to what Grandma said and I understand
now every word that still echo's in my head .
I think Grandma's have an inside tip
for she already knew the plan, before I did.
I will always love you Grandma.
Copyright © Sharon Gulley
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
Copyright © Bj Fard
Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust?
As our courts remove God from this great nation.
We are left with a confused and lost generation!
As God is taken away from our public schools.
A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.”
The Bible is often mocked and discarded.
It was on it’s principles this country was started!
Just about anything of God seems to get scorned.
So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms.
As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out.
We tend to forget what HE is all about!
Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused.
No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused!
As people forget God and worship the fallen creature.
They look to themselves and “glorify” their features.
Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions.
And with this, come disease,
heartache and afflictions!
As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.”
It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking!
If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer!
He loves all of us! And he really does care!
Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in?
Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend?
He brings strength and nourishment to the soul!
It’s only in him that we can be made whole!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton
A day in the country
I went to the country
To see my Bro's Land
I saw he had worked hard
His land looked so grand
For a second this envy
It tapped on my soul
But then I looked deeper
Saw things as a whole!
I looked at his features
All the lines on his face
Not character lines
Those lines that add grace
Just sad saggy lines
From worry and stress
There was naught in his manner
That read happiness.
I’m a loser to his type
I have no ambition
I live for today
He lives for his mission
But I have a smile
And a generous heart
While he, how I see him
Is a grumpy old fart.
10 August 2013 @ 1700hrs
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Reflections in the mirror
were getting scary
I could not carry
the weight of my pain
it almost took my life
to learn to love again
for I have made a friend
somewhere along my long lost way
I hope that I helped him
just a fraction of how he helped me
maybe that single thought
is what finally gave me my peace
enough to release so much
Now I am not afraid
to walk where the streets are hot
for I thrive in Hell's kitchen
where the devil stirs my pot
for I now have him quiet tame
I sacrificed my dragons
at the alter of my name
and now you are my slaves
any time I need
I'll call upon my superhero's
to come and rescue me
like my Saint Toni
who swept me off that bridge
and showed my how a death can be
the greatest reason to live
for she was the seed to grow my Eden
then a man from a foreign land
gave me something in myself to believe in
the magik of Love.
Copyright © Bj Fard
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON
I do not know?
don't let me see you on my street
or creepin through my window
I immensely want your head hanging
on my living room wall
I plan to hunt you down very soon
So don't go making my chase easy
I wish you were not a sibling of mine
I wish you weren't in my mind
But your spying and childish games
are grounds for me to go insane
You must learn the hard way
I really wish you would escape.
Copyright © kaotik kandee
I do not know?
*A assignment was due in class. *
Every time a gun shoots
A tree looses its roots
Every time there is bloodshed
Along with it millions of tears are shed
Every time a heart is stabbed
Someone else’s life gets barren
As violence grows
Many more mothers moan
The sounds of destruction
Overpowers the voice of those
Who are innocent
Who suffer with no reason
Who beg for life
Who have heart full of innocence
Why do so much violence?
That the child’s cry cannot be heard
When his father is killed
Why do so much violence?
That a mother moans
Over her child’s dead remains
Why do so much violence
For winning any stupid battle
Which is taking lives
Of people who have wives
And mothers and children
When you can keep calm
Talk things out
Do whatever you can
To keep violence out
Because there is no sin as big as
Copyright © donna lu
DO NOT ABUSE ME
I am a petroleum pipeline
Do not abuse me
If I burst, fire may burn you
I am a drug
Do not abuse me
If you take me wrongly
You may develop health problem
I am a motor car
Do not abuse Me
If ther is an accident
You may die
I am a gun
Do not abuse me
If you pull my trigger
You may kill someone
I am a woman
Do not abuse me
If you rape me
There maybe no children for you.
Copyright © john chizoba vincent
Forced me into the birdcage
nervous while plundering
The lash around my neck
result of blundering
Awakened my wrath
vigorous equally thundering
Lost in panic,
facade of a dervish wondering.
Copyright © Roya Zereh
I do not know?
The fruit of my loins are ne'er done, sleep is
Just not an option worth considering.
They much prefer the notion of ploughing
Right on. Through the wall, and not thinking
About consequences, meaning they're fore'er
Fighting and arguing and arguing
And fighting. Just one... Just one day without
Rows would be a blessing. It's not that I
Don't love them. I do love them. Of course I
Love them. They are everything to me.
Copyright © Al Parry
Aarmano Se JAn CHooti
Ghamo ne Aan Ghera ha
Kia mere DIl pe Bas
Sirf Tanhaiyo ka Basera ha
Copyright © Rameez Ahmad
I was a prophet, wrapped in my mothers arms
brightest eyes that saw a darkened world
my brother was the halo figure, a golden arm for slingshots
a temper to smash his own fist against a brick wall
we wept in time with the funeral march
as our mother was buried in front of our eyes
misgivings and mass at midnight
praying to an empty alter
to save our grandfather, to spare him one more night
lying in bed a week later
I awoke to his voice telling me our prayers had done no good
It's easier to blame the empty bottles for my brothers death
easier to blame the teen years than the
push and pull of growing up an orphan
and on nights like this, more than a decade later
I can still recall that conversation when he told me
when he closed his eyes and spoke those words, barely above a whisper
that he wouldn't be around much longer
I was thirteen and still bright eyed
he was twenty three and weathered
I was a prophet, but even a blind man could see
the pain that was ingrained in his faintest smiles
the avalanche of emotions still hit and bury me deep
some nights i pray to let me reach safety
others I take solace in knowing that
the avalanche is holding me tight as I sleep
Copyright © K.M North
STILL I love to rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to wander
Far from the commoner way;
Old-time trills and falls by the hill-side still do I ponder,
as my strides coursing through the streaming waters,
Dreaming to-morrow to-day.
Come here, come, revive me, Sun-God, teach me, Apollo,
Measures descanted before;
Since in timeless verses, I must follow,
Prints in the marbles of ancient folk-lore.
Still strange, strange, they sound in old-young raiment invested,
Songs for the brain to forget -
Young song-birds elate to grave old temples be-nested
Piping and chirruping yet.
Thoughts? No thought has yet unskilled attempted to flutter
Trammeled so vilely in verse;
Even if its for a while,
He who writes but aims at fame and his bread and his butter,
Won with a groan and a curse.
Of course, We still love to rhyme..
Copyright © Scott Robinson
As a One of a Kind Guy, I Cry! I try my best not to lie. I oblige everything in sight, I don't know why, but I figure life would be so damn dry if I didn't even try.
I go through the same phases that another guy might; what separates me from the rest is I come into every situation to best the test! I never regret a single step, and when I crest, there is no way in hell I could neglect the preparation just to digress.
See it takes concentration, determination, and most importantly an infatuation for being the best. Not trying to boast or brag, but at last I'm no longer being dragged, by the thoughts of my past. If you act too fast, you'll be apart of the mass, looking for quick cash and a big ass. Smoking grass and doing dabs is only a way to become a spazz; flake not fake but always late.
I'm not like the rest, I maintain my insane membranes by focus. I strive to ride the wave of faith; not of an higher power but of my own. I'm a One Of A Kind Brother, I stand alone in my mind with only a shadow!
Copyright © Michael Bradford
It’s unfortunate that we are living past the age of romanticism. It’s as if in our busy lives we don’t have time to make time to let moments intertwine. We are workaholics and hedonist who forgot to appreciate that love exists.
We are a couple decades over the time where the hearts use to frequently blossom and more than passion was the outcome. Instead we pay more attention to Hollywood heartbreaks and gossip. Stories of lust and mistrust that give love a bad name. Soap-opera clichés where to apply the word 'cliché' would be cliché.
When it comes to affection our conscience are unconscious. The mind's treachery leading to heart's lechery are the components of nonsense that leave the soul no longer autonomous .
Then there’s the other side of the story of those who look for glory, trying to find congruent atriums and ventricles.
Those lonely individuals whose only finds happen to be asymmetrical.
Those that live for love, those that lust love and can’t ignore it, also those who die for it.
It’s that common misconception that their next lover will be their last.
It’s the repetitive mistakes that made their next lover the same as their last.
It’s the entangled bonds between two roses that are divine. We comprehend not that we are diatoms in Diotima’s explanation of a love story.
There’s no acknowledgement of platonic love.
No demonstration of admiration for the family unit, friends and all the experiences we undergo.
It’s out of resource and need that Eros grows.
A gardener should be there to watch their seed grow.
It’s out of love that we should plant our rose.
Copyright © Raumelis Ramos
(For my brother)
(A poem written by Georgia Peltier, redone by brother, L. Larry Amadore)
A feather, borne upon a breeze,
floats to earth; it settles in dry leaves.
My heart, like feather, drifts down, too,
for I am already missing you.
I watch you as you drive away
two days past Thanksgiving Day.
It's rarely that we see you here;
you're far away, so seldom near.
You'll come again in a year or two;
then, I'll not fail to cherish you.
My eyes grow dim, sight fades away.
I barely see the light of day.
But I've etched your form upon my mind
and I'll think of you from time to time,
envisioning your dear and much-loved face
from here -- this dark, remote, yet lovely place.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore
My soul like a balloon
My entire life I've had my balloon
I have yet to let it go
My balloon meant the world to me
My pure essence, being
My balloon defined me
He left and never returned
In shock my balloon escaped my grasp
Slowly it drifted off toward heaven
In the distant sky
Disappeared into thin air
Squinting I try to keep my eyes locked on it
Months go by and I continue to look up
Gazing into the light blue sky as the sun sets each day
I continue to stare as the sky darkens, and stars twinkle
The sun rises once more
My eyes lose sight of my soul
The balloon, irreplaceable
Ocean, land and air
The earth holds my souls entire essence
My brother is now one with the earth
His absence hallows my human body
The balloon left me for him
Are souls couldn't be apart
Copyright © Alyssa Marie
I feel my life , wasting away'
Living in a strange place , day by day
Who is to blame? I ask myself ,
If I get killed, or put on a shelf .
Who will take care? of the ones I love ,
While I look down , from up above ,
Lord, keep them safe, while I'm away ,
They are the victims, who are being played .
Life can be cruel ,life can be mean ,
When ' Soldier's die, in a War, unforeseen
Who will protect us,when they are gone,
This isn't a dream, the day isn't done .
We live in a fox hole, " over in Vietnam'
Or in " Korea"by the DMZ,
War is the same, in any language u c.
Destroying families, even " Overseas .
Make us or break us ,we are men
Even "The Wac's, will do it again ,
We're not afraid, to kill or be killed ,
While in the big house,they live on cheap thrills .
Our lives are " predetermined" that's what they say ,
Cause we as soldier's , will die every day
Remember our sacrifices, and all that's been done ,
We'll die for our country, till the war is won .
Love is greater than any conflict,
Being fought " Overseas" or in our country
Let's not forget our "Soldier's"who've died all alone,
"For their last thought before dying,
Was to be buried" back home .
Copyright © Roberto Santana
Todos los dias siento dolor ,
Mis lagrimas cayendo estan ,
Por los niños que padecen ,
Sufriendo por tanta vanidad .
Salvalos yo te pido " Señor'
Ya que ellos , muriendo estan'
En este mundo sin 'Rumbo'
Pues no saben' hacia donde van.
Mis ojos se llenan de lagrimas'
Al verlos a ellos sufrir ,
Ellos no tienen " Hogares'
Y tambien merecen vivir .
Para mi son " Angelitos'
Que todavia no saben volar ,
En un mundo lleno de " Guerras"
El cual ellos llaman " Su Hogar .
Bendicelos con tus enseñanzas ,
Dales amor y valor a sus vidas ,
Para que en el dia de'Mañana'
Se olviden de sus heridas .
Copyright © Roberto Santana
You...Your the one who put
Us through this
The nights we wake up
Hungry and you wasn't near
We looked out the window
It's still so clear
What a loud noise
To hear my baby brother cry
It wasn't just me
It was me and him
Doing your job
Since the day he was born
I'll love him forever
He will always be mine
But what you put us through
You can never define!!!
Copyright © Skylisha Vasquez