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Age Dedication Poems | Age Poems About Dedication

These Age Dedication poems are examples of Age poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Age Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Money-God

Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.

Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.

People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.

Godless? 
With or without the words, 
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God, 
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.

The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.

If I had been given the chance, 
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.

When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....

....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.

If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within, 
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.

Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling 
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.

Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.

If I had been given the chance -- past tense....

....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,

until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.







December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S:  28 - 2 = 26




January 7th, 2013




.


Details | Free verse | |

Sending Waves Touching Beautiful Always

She who sends waves touching beautiful warm and gracious words
Draws bright sunshine smiles in our hearts as they sing in her grace
Flowing from the heart her beauty held in her Quill ready to write
Pure diamond sparkling rainbows as a true friend is a friend in deed

The tidal wave raises fine soaked sand from the bottom of the ocean
And the waves curl out pearl white reflecting a most Picture Perfect
Image that is truly splendid and always sublime to behold and cherish
As Nature’s soft wind caresses your aura and inspires your next poem

She who sends these very waves touching beautiful personifies a Muse
So rare, so special—and brings her influence and talents to bear in
Masterfully supporting the efforts of fellow poets and dreamers as they 
“Spill Ink” on blank pages late at night crafting their next poetic masterpiece

The very power and wonder of her good works and positive influence are
Always there magnificently arrayed like pure beams of sunshine touching
And dazzling all in her reach quite profoundly with the magic of her thoughts 
And the quiet courage of her convictions as the simply wonderful poet she is
    
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem (Free Verse Poem),
November 26, 2014 

NOTE: Written in Honor of Anne-Lise Andresen for Her Fine Poetry and For 
Her Continued Professional Support and Encouragement of Other Fellow Poets.


Details | Rhyme | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Rhyme | |

I Did It My Way

I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because, Failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause. I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all, So I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak, Just because I wasn’t mild and meek. Challenging every obstacle placed in my way, And all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told, I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold. Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes, I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed. To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail. With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day, Success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton


Details | Carpe Diem | |

DUET TO PLEASURE

DUET TO PLEASURE B a b y... How can I get you out of my mind When It's you I only want to twine? Shall I befall to some lovers When it's you I treasure none other? B a b y... Don't play too hard to get You already know Your face and wit, I can't forget... Come, baby, come I tell you... What you can become Ocean skies to underwater trysts My baby... you got all the gifts From tantalizing green eyes To pouty cherry full lips Baby,you got me straight on bullseye Your an oasis to my desert life With you by my side, Thorns I will completely abide. Surrender to me, my desire. Keep those blushes alive And together let's duet to perspire! Entangle long on sizzling Madonna moves; Ahhh and ohhhh our dual adoring grooves As we glide in autumn memoirs of ecstasy To reach a volcanic explosion of chemistry. Interstellar prime vows uttered bright, Glowing anew as we kiss so contrite Oh, baby, won't you try to comply? Don't deny, it's I you also desire... Sunset may endow a door to endings but it's also a window to beginnings. So baby, now or never Let's start our pleasure... © October 28, 2014; 10:43 pm Carpe Diem in the form of Entreaties


Details | Epic | |

Trust No One

~My Heart~

•      One last night before the grave
•	Thousands of thoughts of you I save
•	-Every night, I experience the same dream
•	That you haunt me, exposing my sensual needs
•	You push me,
•       Into a pit of everything that terrifies me  
~LOVE~ I confess, I fear, I avoid!!!

In the back of my mind, the moon can’t be as large 
My heart bleeds, to feel more than two worlds apart
Tonight I will embed, your fantasy, my fantasy, 
The Astros; I project --into your arms, of security
Your eyes render 
A heavenly sanctuary, a slight sick smile to my face
You stay, I stay, in a dream we touch lips
I venture my heart then I stray, Am I afraid?
Feasibly, I’m not open-minded  
I hide under this mask, these covers, that make me hold back
•	I echo the moods of past dreams
•	I proved to sustain a closed book, yet open your way
A trusted aspirin, can’t make thoughts of you go away
Dramatize persona, the erroneous kind of light
Yet it continues to run like hot lava, melting my mind
I’m ever so soft, when lost with your words,
I’m weak, I feel each time I cross my fingers
I’m loss of words I babble, my heart sings
Then pretends, nothing is going on
Then, I hallucinate of that kiss, and then slowly it fades
Tomorrow's another day, every mood will get in the way

•	Today, I will strain
•       And make sense of what clogged my main artery
•	In a holding cellar, like wine it will be worth the wait
You plead for me, you pinched my eyes
I fall back to reality

Avowal, Instructions, Discipline, and Lock Down 
That explains it all!!!

By:PD


Details | Tanka | |

LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night


Details | Narrative | |

JE SUIS CHARLIE -- Afterthought

JE SUIS CHARLIE — Afterthought

The shock of this most frightening tragedy is practically beyond 
the pale of any reasonable or adequate attempt or effort to explain
it or to rationalize the horrible circumstances surrounding it.

Let me just say that all of us who are writers and poets ply our
poetry, “our intellectual wares,” if you will, in a common written
medium that expects the same unrestricted level of freedom of
speech and expression exercised by those extraordinarily brave
artists at “Charlie Hebdo” who were recently murdered in cold
blood by self-styled Islamic extremists in Paris. 

It is also equally saddening and deplorable that some courageous 
police officers died in the line of duty defending these freedoms 
as well as some other security people and hostages caught up in 
the midst of these most terrifying circumstances. 

The heinous actions perpetrated by these armed extremists
destroyed innocent lives and affected the lives of a number of
loved ones whose burden of sadness and tragedy is unimaginable. 
Their actions also were an attempt to strike at the very heart of 
those sacred freedoms that all of us who live in open societies and
democracies cherish as part of our everyday lives. The armed 
extremists, by their actions, also personified and demonstrated an
obvious affectation for barbarity, stupidity, ignorance, and cowardice 
that were all on ample display as a result of what they did.

Freedom of speech and expression are among those certain
historic inalienable rights given to all of us by the divine hand of
God himself, and certainly not by the generosity of any government 
or religious group (regardless of faith). The brave souls who died
at Charlie Hebdo, died exercising this most sacred franchise.

The point I’m driving at is this: Those extremists who committed
these most reprehensible actions of recent against their fellow man 
did not win in spite of their collective efforts to destroy lives and to 
sully these precious freedoms that all of us as writers and artists 
hold so very dear.

The outpouring of emotion and sadness in support of these slain
heroes in the face of this most despicable crime is quite compelling, 
and underlies the continuing determination of all of us who love
and cherish the freedoms of speech and expression to continue to
speak out and to exercise these sacred rights without reservation.

With all of this in mind, I humbly and proudly conclude my narrative 
to all of you here by saying and echoing as loudly as possible:
“Je Suis Charlie” . . . “I am Charlie.”

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 10, 2015)
(Narrative)


Details | Prose | |

Portrait of a Public Servant

It is 3:00 a.m. on an icy cold winter morning. A piercing alarm shatters the silence at the station, and he is sped away on a flashing red vehicle, horns blaring, to respond to the emergency. At the scene all three floors of the tenement are engulfed in flames which are spreading to adjoining buildings on either side. With selfless dedication and tremendous courage, he rushes into that awesome inferno. He is a professional firefighter in the city's Fire Department. But so many people never think of these virtues which carry him through his work. Dedication… As a public servant hired by the city, he is needed by every man, woman, and child therein. This requires selfless dedication, for his purpose to save the lives and property involved in a fire emergency comes above all else. It may mean leaving Thanksgiving dinner at home with the family to respond to a three-alarm fire. It sometimes requires working on important holidays, so that the entire city is protected each minute of every day. It demands hours of study, drills, attending classes, constantly upgrading techniques and solving the new problems in firefighting. It involves endless paperwork and reports. It means being on call at all times to come to the aid of others in trouble. This is dedication. Courage… A lighted match held close can often produce fear in the average individual. What a tremendous amount of courage it takes to run into a burning structure with flames licking at him from all directions… to enter the interior which is charged with dense smoke, where visibility is zero and requires him to crawl on his hands and knees, close to the floor where it is less thick, in order to see anything at all. But he forgets the risks. Most important is to rescue the trapped children, the elderly grandfather, or anyone possibly hiding under a bed, or squeezing behind a stove or refrigerator as they so often do in panic; or those screaming at a window, in which case he must scale the outside of the building on a ladder and attempt to bring them down to safety. This is courage. I admire and respect him for these traits. They are part of him as a firefighter fulfilling those duties which are so often taken for granted. However, I do not take them for granted. His virtues never leave my mind. He is my husband. © Sandra M. Haight 2014 All Rights Reserved ~8th Place~ Contest: Sketch a Character Sponsor: Gautami Phookan in honor of my husband a firefighter for 27 years who retired as Assistant Chief


Details | Free verse | |

The Heart Of My Woman

How can your heart see
what my eyes always miss...
How can your heart hear
what my ears dismiss...
How can your heart feel
what I cannot touch...
My senses would reel
if I endured so much           

You - are my woman
formed from flesh and bone
and  I - am your man
forged from dirt and stone
Your heart has a knowing
I yearn to learn
of wonderful reasonings
my mind cannot discern

You - are my woman
with a heart as an urn...
filled with compassion
and tears of concern
and  I - am your man
with a heart of stone...
Help me to reach
beyond myself alone

To my wife, gv 2013


Details | Free verse | |

Year of the Acorn

Year of the Acorn
(For my Father who
has Parkinsons &
Alzheimer's)
22/12/12  21:21
pm

Out on a winter walk
one day
you solemnly put an
acorn into my hand.
Something in my head
whispered
"Keep it safe
and he'll be safe".
I kept it to this
day.

Year one.
One candle on my
cake,
burned into my
mind's eye forever.
You took a
photograph
to keep me in the
picture.

Year four.
My sister arrived in
the world. 
You took me to feed
the swans.
Back home
she greeted us with
screams.
I fled, covering my
ears.

Year thirteen.
Mother told me the
facts of life.
You kept well out of
it.

Year nineteen,
A disco at the end
of a long, quiet
road.
You always drove me
safely there and
back.
You were judge and
jury
of all boyfriends.

Year twenty three.
You gave me away
to the best
boyfriend of all.

A montage of eras
replay in the bright
lens of memory
till the year of the
walk
and the acorn.

And I kept it safe
so you'd be safe,
only now it looks
cracked and old;
not quite like an
acorn

and you are not
quite like you.


Details | Lyric | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.


Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel


______________________________________________________________________
Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 


Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Epic | |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…


Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Free verse | |

Bill


R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee

Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.


Details | Epic | |

To My Wife Grandpa Murray's voice

I wandered and travelled
Nor knew where I'd gone .
Life became a problem;
T'was one long cruel song.

My problems seem to multiply;
They came from every side.
I vowed to find the answer;
by this I would abide.

I looked into nature
And tore apart my mind.
Then put them on the table
To see what I could find.

I found that I'de been greedy
and avaricious, too.
Whenever projects of mine failed
I put the blame on you.

I found that I was lonely;
I thought you didn't care.
But what I really didn't know
Was you were always there.

You tried to fill the void
That always was in my Life.
you tried to ease the sorrow
You've been a real good Wife.
 
                           Yvette & Grandpa Murray  
          From James Murray to , Janet Murray ..his beautiful wife.
" In great respect of Grandfather Murray's poem he wrote for my  Grandmother Murray "


Details | Rhyme | |

A Soul Awakened

She is the muse to her own sorrow; She is the digger of her grave. She is the painter of her ocean view and every fatal wave. She is the shadow of her Father; She is the darkness in your sight. She is the night without the stars surrounding pale moonlight. She is the music with no words; She is sweet love without the reason. She is your dreamer with submission cold by warmth with every season. She is your pet with cold intentions; She is your baby scared and shaken. She is the bold and pure- the lost and found, She is a soul awakened.


Details | Epic | |

The Old Worn Out Poet

By the light of a window sits an old man, his pennies he does count.
His hair is gray, his eyes are old, and there’s little in his bank account.
He has lived his life by the book of what is good, kind and just.
He had some fun when he was young, was a man you could trust.
He’s done all the things you have, he worked his whole life thru.
And now he sits, by the window of life, wondering what he will do.
As his health went away, his life went away, he never doubted it would.
He saved and was frugal his whole life long, he did the best he could. 
But the way of money is often misunderstood, and it often slips away.
Now he wonders how he will keep all those predators at bay.
The economy went bad; his job went away, his medical insurance, too.
He’d already been sick, medicines were high, and he lost his house to boot.
The new medical insurance is high, so much he can’t afford any treats.
Air conditioning’s a dream, heat may be soon, but he’s not on the streets.
Now in an apartment he will rest his head, and sparingly he does eat.
Gloom and doom are not his way, so a new life he will greet.
He can’t write, he shakes too much, but with a computer he gets it done.
He has trouble traveling. Finding work is hard. None his way will come.
His mind’s not sharp, but he’s seen so much, he’ll find a way to get along.
And he still has a passion for words, the world, and of course for song.
So with that in mind, as a poet he was born. And as a poet, he has grown.
He’ll never be Shakespeare, Milton, or Poe…but a poet all his own.
From his work, great poems will come, as his foundation is solid as stone.
He’ll write about people and places, and in time his light will be shone.
Some poems will be up, and others down, and a few of dreams he knew.
His thoughts and work gave him a passion for life, to which he will be true.
So tell a friend, and buy his book, have them use it in their school.
It’s the history of people, places, and things, a beautiful history jewel.
His life went to dust but now thrives, and he’ll gladly continue to work. 
The rest of his life he’ll be a great poet, it’s a responsibility he’ll never shirk.
In his poems, his hope, bright soul, and heart will continue to shine.
It’s something that again calls to his heart, that he can say is truly mine.

Impress Me4 Epic Carol Eastman Written 2009... for all poets...


Details | Free verse | |

A Beautiful Reverie

Here I lie beside you
My heart goes thump.thump.thump.
My soul dances inside you
Reveling in the texture of your own.
Electric and flowing 
The currents of our love
Glow like neon lights
Illuminating the hope in my eyes.
Though we're not moving
I feel so incredibly alive
Invincible to my past
Untouchable by all who lack
That gentle touch of when 
You lean in and brush my face
Your lips grazing my skin
Softer than a butterfly.
And then you gaze into my eyes
I fall into your depths 
Twirling like the autumn leaves
Melting into your smile 
Your soul reminiscent of summer.
You pull me into your arms 
And for a moment I'm lost 
Breathless and in awe
Staring in the face of pure exquisite love 
And there you are - holding it 
Glowing in the moonlight of my stare.
My heart beats - its drum pounding away
Echoing a song thats lost its words
I touch your cheek and smile
My hands cant stay away
My lips s l o w l y, draw near yours
Hovering, and then - 
Part, a soft warmth against them.
My eye lids pulling shut
Dragging me into a silent heaven
I pull away - and what seemed millennia
Lasted only a moment, a second in time
But this is our love
This is what you do to me
You make me invincible and fragile
Lost forever in a beautiful reverie.


Details | Free verse | |

Attawapiskat: Orphans of the Stone and Sky

Salt-bleached roads merge into a horizon
of snow-clouds pregnant with similar shades of gray.

On television sets, the media squawks loudly
about one of the most affluent suburbs in the world
having been touched by flood during the night.
O! We must come together,
help restore the water-damaged basements
of 1.5 million-dollar homes.
Has the Great Mother no sympathy,
as she continues to unleash her stormy wrath?

Behind the back of a 3rd World town
nestled in the bosom of 1st World commodities,
outsiders whisper of possible mismanaged aid,
of faulty tribal council audits,
while on our land, foreign companies break open the earth,
extracting our Mother's vital organs,
selling blood diamonds to the very people 
with water-damaged 1.5 million-dollar homes....
....maybe the sparkle of a new necklace
will assuage the waiting-period of insurance policies.
Yes, people whisper behind our backs 
about the burden of hand-outs,
while our land subsidizes the entire nation.

But self-pity and envy will not serve us true,
for the widely beaten path 
leads towards more conditioned lies and empty eyes.

Above, the burgeoning snow-clouds
are filled with much potential energy
waiting to be released, just as we are.
If we arise from the swampy, damp ashes
as a phoenix whose wings are dried by courage-breath,
we must act with grace,
live by the golden rule,
treat our oppressors with a dignity
not offered to us in the first place.

To settle for less, 
is to settle for a searing brand of Oji-Cree hypocrisy -
the widely beaten path of conditioned lies and empty eyes.
We, the Orphans of the Stone and Sky,
must rise as graceful Warriors,
must rise to not only protect our own future,
but the future of all children.

We arrived from the Stone and Sky with grace,
so shall we live, so shall we depart, 
and again, so shall we return.






.


Details | Free verse | |

Baby Unicorn

Welcome to the land of butterflys and buttercups
The place where baby unicorns run free
It does not rain here
Nothing but sunshine
sandy beaches
Race with the waves as they crash against the shore
Here the sand is white as snow
Yet it's so soft
So warm
The water azure blue
Dive into the ocean
Let it envelope your body
Wash away sadness
Cleanse you
Renew your soul
Emerge 
Energized 
Strengthened
Joy can once again be a friend
Dream happy dreams
Fill your land with all that you love
You are woman
Stronger than even you know
The pen is mightier 
You are a poet a creator of worlds
You determine what you see
You choose your joy
Let imagination fuel reality
See the you that you are meant to be

Dedicated to Colleen Bono
Check out the Science of Happiness by Shawn Achor on UTube

Submitted to You Are Beautiful Contest. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Pal

Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.

She smiled.  “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too.  His name was Pal.”


Details | Free verse | |

Always the Lady

An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.

Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.

Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.

I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.

(N.B  Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)


Details | Free verse | |

WHAT AM I

I came from different hands 'til you had me. 
From pieces you picked me and gave meaning. 
Designed me patiently to let others see my flair. 
You gave me a brand new life,you made me whole. 
Until somebody saw my beauty and had me owned. 
At first, he treated me so gently, like nobody does. 
Days passed, then he forgot my worth. 
I'm always left in a corner of his home. 
Even though I was hurting, I kept on serving him all day long. 
He wasn't contented, he used and abused. 
Let all people come and go without even notice. 
They just passed by, as if not aware that I was there. 
No one really cared, they left me broken and unclean. 
And finally, the day that I awaited.... 
The time came for me to be free. 
After all the pain he'd caused me. 
My final journey, time for me to take a ride. 
I can't help not to wave goodbye. 
And keep myself asking why. 
Why did he let me in to his life, 
then throw me away after all that I've done. 
He left me with a hanging line... 
asking myself now...WHAT AM I TO YOU?




** 2nd Place Winner in PD's Contest: WHAT AM I?**


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Where The Grass Is Turning Brown In Spots I Buried My Memories

List of things to do before

I fall in love again
I allow my mind to take me
Into the
A wild opened fields
where the grass is turning brown in spots
^
There’s one
 Wild flower
And
Dozens of
Scattered pebbles,
Under my feet
^
Taunted memories,
Bare trees with bend trunks
A cool breeze washes my face
No more umbrella tree
To relief me from
Ray of the sun
I squint from the sun in my eyes
^
To
Think of the ghost in my past
Or to deal with the
Ray of the sun
^
Lists of things to do before
I fall I love again
Buried the pain
Low the drawbridge
or
Keep the enemy out
^
I want to be happier 
Than I‘ve ever been
To
Fall in love again
^
I buried
 Painful memories
Under the bare umbrella trees


Details | Free verse | |

To love again

Three years left me 
Bruised and broken
Sitting in a pile
Of what use to be myself
But you stumbled back into my life
A man become from 
The boy I knew in childhood
And offered me your hand
My instinct whispered of my past
It spoke the lies he once said
And I sat there with a lit cigarette 
Puffing on the smoke
I wondered what was truth
You knelt on your knees
And I saw the truth was you
Tenderly, nervously, I laid with you
My hope, my trust, my heart
You found a way to hold it all
You made me laugh,
Around you I wouldn't flinch
I started to fall
Terrified
But I started to fall
Every Instinct screamed
Telling me Id hit the ground
That you would be no where to be found
But you were just as scared
You fell and I wasn't there
Too caught up in my own hurt
I forgot to see your worth 
My eyes squeezed tight
Afraid to see the ground rise
I opened them up
And there you were
Arms wide and ready
Strong and steady 
Teaching me to love again


Details | Free verse | |

Right Now

Right now I respect your needs
I respect your wishes
Even though they stab
Like shards of shattered glass
Shrapnel puncturing my heart
Uneven in my thoughts
Unable to think due to a lack
A lack of function in which
My mundane self became accustomed
Expecting your love
Which right now I  realize was
Disrespecting your love
Your love
Which is my life
Regardless of decisions made
Your love
Which is my life
Because of decisions made
Right now
You will be my wife until my dying day
I will fight for my life
Your love
I will go round after round
Take beating and punishment
Just for my life
Which, right now and always has been 
your love
Right now 
I really need you to know
Your love Is my life
The only life I really care to know
And right now
I feel my life, your love,
Is dying slow


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Do I Write

Out of all the questions I have been asked in life
None of them stump me more like this:

Why do I write?

It does not stump me because it’s tricky
It stumps me because it’s a stupid question to ask

Why do I write?

Because there’s nothing more relaxing than it.

Sure sometimes it’s frustrating
Difficult, fundamentally challenging
But that’s part of the beauty of it

Letting you emotions spill out across the page
And knowing that people read it
That people expect who you are
It’s brilliant

When you live a life of not speaking up
Of being that quite person in the background
Expressing yourself is… magnificent

I’m not me when I write
Something takes over me, controls me
So much so that I don’t really know what I am writing consciously
But it works so well 

I guess some people will never understand 
The joy in it all

When you're my age and you develop some characteristic
That doesn’t suit the normal criteria you get picked on

It happens, you can’t stop it
But I feel sorry for them

Expressing yourself through writing is one of my greatest joys
And I’m not going to stop
Not now
Not ever