A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano
A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
I’m never gonna quit.
I left behind some parts of me,
I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play.
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.
Copyright © Angelo Casiano
To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions.
First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.
Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.
In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.
As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.
Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.
Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.
With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.
Copyright © Albert Price
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins
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
As I sit and gaze at your picture
I travel back to days of yore
To the ranch on the Nebraska prairie
And the place where you called home.
I came to teach their school
And was introduced to you
My life changed at that moment
For what I saw was a man honest and true.
A man who since age fifteen
Has been on his own
His reputation it was good
And he worked nine years for the former 101.
He had just moved up the valley
To their uncle's ranch
When I came upon the scene
A city girl it seemed but I wasn't really green.
My mom was from her dad's Nebraska ranch
Not to far away
And her sister taught an Indian Government school
On the Rosebud Reservation..
My brother and sister
A cousin my age and I
Shared a life similar to the life
My Billy had.
Well, not really I'm afraid
We were a few years younger
And though most of our time was spent on horseback
There were no cows involved.
We played in the White River
Rode calves and hogs
While Billy at this same age
Had himself to support.
Now it was my turn to grow up
I took up teaching to go back to the plains
And met the man of my dreams
Who my life did change.
Snowed in following a blizzard in March
And five miles away
Billy rode down the valley horseback
Just to see me one day.
By then we already had marriage plans
But we hadn’t told a soul
It wasn’t till April Fools Day
We finally broke the news.
We ranched, raised our kids
And worked at Truck Parts
Forty-seven years and 2 weeks later
God called you home.
I had truly been blessed
With a good, honest, hard working man
Who is still here for me.
I thank You God with all my heart,
Three Christmases you have been gone
For Cathy it is four, it just doesn’t seem fair
But God has taken from you the pain you had
And I will always be grateful for that.
I love you dear and Merry Christmas.
Copyright © Marycile Beer
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
TREASURES OF YOUR SOUL
Just a reminder before I start…
This comes with Love from your Mother’s heart
It was Saturday September 1987
When my prayer specifications arrived from Heaven-
You see, long before I was your age I asked God to Bless me one day with a son
And that was how the thought of you had first begun
So, Twenty -one years ago to this day
You arrived…perfect and handsome in every way-
As baby and toddler you were way ahead of your peers
Showing wisdom and intellect beyond your years
Added to that a head of hair to astound
Made you without doubt, the best looking kid around
At 6 months old you said your first word-
Wait for it…”Ninja Turtle” is what we all heard-
This was hardly surprising in retrospect though
As your love of sword’s and sword -fighting started to show
You started to question us on everything in sight
No doubt in our minds, you were exceptionally bright
When your sister arrived you were almost three
Chat to Keelyn, and you will find she’ll agree…
That having a sister was no issue at all-
In fact you were her protector and mentor from the day she was born-
The love that the two of you share,
Is unique, very special, and extremely rare
As young adults you still nurture this bond with each other-
You make great siblings as sister and brother
I could write pages, so many things to relay
But here is the important stuff I need to say…
You care about your Faith, Family and Friends...
And still-- the heights of your Academic achievements know no end
From the day you could speak the sentence we heard most of all-
“When I grow up a Dr. will be my vocation and call”
Four years into your Medical degree
We realize how seriously you took that first plea
You learnt to discern from an early age between right and wrong
I am pleased to acknowledge in God’s Kingdom you firmly belong
I love you so much…a love that has no measure
To have you as a son - a gift from God I will always Treasure-
So as you celebrate this milestone age of Twenty-one
It goes without saying- you make us so proud to have you as a son
(Footnote: My son is now 25—a qualified Doctor, and firm in His Faith)
Copyright © Kim van Breda
I lost faith in the world for the shit I'd been through. Walking down highways, always confused. I think I've seen more happy families driving along the Trans Canada than I've seen in person. You ever take what someone important said to heart? You ever had your closest accomplice -- your sister "from another mister" -- leave you at the door, feeling colder than you ever had before?
You were a liar and it made my anxieties perspire and I trusted you to make it through but you never gave yourself a chance. I listened to you on your bed and you put your dreams in my head. Maybe it's funny but I kind of didn't have the heart to give you my honesty. Ya know, cause you'd build me up and never be there for me.
Remember when you had that nasty school bus rumor and I said I'd smash a bitch who talked shit like that to you again? I wasn't lying, I was telling the truth. When you say you're sisters, it means I'd be there for you.
Sure I admit I say some bad things but it's only 'cause you grew a bit and disappointed me. Bragging for dick when you're better than that. I know you had artistic dreams and I fueled them with high grade gasoline and tossed you the keys but you were afraid to leave with me. I just wanted to see you soar after all the open wounds Pencity let you wore. Take you away from all the bullshit and show my little sister some passion worth living for again.
But hey, I guess it doesn't matter if your siblings are blood related. They'll disappoint you in the end no matter where they came from. Either beat you down and lie to the cops or save you from being scared of making the wrong shots. Just thought you'd be there for me like I tried for you -- thought we were sisters, albeit scared little girls who grew up together in this confusing world.
Copyright © Rhea Laverdure
You are my older Sister
You have been since I was born
I remember playing in your garden
And hearing your cockerel calling in the early morn
These things bring back great feelings
Memories of picking strawberries near the lawn
Playing in the river and walking in the lanes
Running through fields of corn
It’s now your Special Birthday
65 years since you was born
You are very Special to me
Like the birds singing in the morning dew
You are my oldest Sister
I love you through and through
I wrote you this little poem
I wrote it just for you
Now go out and celebrate
And have a drink or two!
Copyright © Eric Bidmead
Jane Merchant (2)
Invalid of flesh (but not of soul),
She saw Creation whole,
And hymned the seasons come to pass
Beyond her bedroom window-glass—
December trees—and April rain-wet grass.
Jane Hess Merchant was born in 1919 on a dairy farm outside of Knoxville. She was the
youngest of four children. Her family lived on farms in Knox County and Jefferson County
until she, her mother, and her sister Elizabeth moved to Knoxville after her father's
death in 1949. Jane was confined to her bed at age twelve due to the congenital bone
disease Osteogenesis Imperfecta, which made her bones extremely brittle and thus prevented
virtually all physical activity. Indeed, what little of the outside world Jane saw was
from her parents' arms when they carried her outside as a child. The same disease that
confined Jane to her bed also caused her to go deaf at the age of twenty-three. She lived
with her mother and sister Elizabeth, who cared for her until her death.
Although many people may have considered Jane to be hopelessly crippled and thus to be
treated as an object of pity, she was extremely active in the literary world until her
death on January 3, 1972. She wrote more than 3,000 poems, over 2,000 letters, dozens of
prose pieces, and published ten collections of her poetry. Jane did not consider herself
pitiful in any way: as the Reverend Gordon Sterchi put it at her funeral, "no one who knew
Jane pitied her or thought her life dreary. They understood that her life was more joyful
that their's [sic]. They realized that she saw more from the bed than they saw from the
Copyright © Steve Eng
O Grunge Princess, I know today your love
brims over, idle, for the rebel boy
like weed you keep, unsmoked, sitting among
your secrets in a box; the smells they cloy
and force you into longing. Come what may,
Space Mermaid, your boy is just a dream.
He's not your happiness, nor is the way
he makes you feel--this illusion may seem
absolute, but first loves often do.
I know I cannot sway you with my words;
just remember: moments fizzle out, but you
will yet remain, just like your box of herbs.
When you learn to walk alone in power
your enigmatic buds begin to flower
Copyright © Jessamyn Duckwall
While my sister performs
we play, Amy and I.
The other room fills
with sharps and flats.
Quietly we laugh and
hope for an extra five.
I can here her talent,
envy and regret.
I do not need my session.
Stale popcorn and dolls
scattered on the green floor.
Eyes on the clock;
the hour has gone by.
The music stops.
Our time does too.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein