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
At Dalton town where I was born
in Ozark hills of home,
There lived a man named Leamon Brown
who plowed the rich, black loam.
His wife, a sweet and gentle soul,
did not foresee his bent,
she daily worked beside her man
who seemed to be content.
But in his heart a wrath appeared
to poison spirit's peace.
When reason left, his anger grew
and clawed to find release.
He stepped behind her where she sat
and bent to kiss her lips,
withdrew his blade and slit her throat
while blood streamed down her hips.
In panic's grip she fled the house
but stumbled soon and fell.
The children screamed in frozen shock
and dove straight into hell.
One son ran to his mother's side
and held her as she died.
His siblings hid from daddy's blade;
he stood there, glassy eyed.
As gossip spread like raging fire
of murder in our town,
the newsmen raced to pen details
as lawmen dragged him down.
His deed became the hottest news
to ever hit our town
The judge declared the man insane
this man named Leamon Brown
Now he is locked behind closed doors,
his wife lies in the ground.
Though we lament the children's fate,
his kids are sorrow bound.
Copyright © Cona Adams
You come over all the time
We talk about everything
I know I can come to you
With anything because you
Will always understand
We have a lot in common
Some people ask why do you
Even talk to her
She don’t care about you
I tell them
They don’t know you like I do
And they never will
Because even though you’re not
Blood you are still my family
No matter what happens in
Twenty years or even two weeks
Down the road we will always be
Sisters for life
And I happy that I can look at you
And say I love you sis
Copyright © cortni basford
To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!
They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!
Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!
There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but surrendering distorts your honor!
As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!
To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
When the world is bitter and cruel
remember my love i will comfort you.
When your heart is broken and lost
remember my love i will find you no matter what the cost.
When you have lost the will to go on
remember my love i will be the rock you can stand upon.
When the worries of your heart become too much to bare
remember my love i will always be there.
with hope in hand and i will always love you no matter the cost
remember my love you will never be lost.
Copyright © tina rossman
Dark as a demon, but with the soul of
an angel, he's a Portuguese Water
Dog who's never been to sea, but, as
he oughta, he loves water, and highly
proprietary when you're watching
TV, downtime is shared, so it's his paw
on your foot, or else it's his head.
Morning ablutions, one leg in the air,
he waters a thicket, which wakes up a
cricket who begins to sing. The world
is his lavatory. Noblesse Obligatory.
It's a Water Dog thing.
for my granddog...
Copyright © Nola Perez
her heart is steaming with reason/ he got her body screaming
with semen/ emotions she's feeling/ is making her/ weak to her knees man/
scary temptation is on/ he got a chrome to her dome/as she lays face down in
the flow/ into her body he goes/ in the air waves/ she/ he/ screams/ curses/ and
moans/ is it by some body she knows part two is coming
Copyright © MICHAEL MALONE
I came here with flowers
held gently to my sobbing chest,
to bring them to my dearest;
I have departed from the living,
to come face to face with my ending...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone...
engraved with a name too sweet,
and yet so painful to call it out;
the heat in my throbbing veins
could warm it up with a loving wish before dawn;
but who can resurrect someone from death?
This morning is dazzled by an intense sun,
carnations, flags and tombstones
perfectly blend as the swaying pines
offer their breeze and soothing shade towards noon;
why are the noisy larks hiding,
and melancholically sing?
I rushed here to release these tears
and let them roll from these eyes,
like raindrops falling on this very quiet place:
where tranquility is as eternal as Paradise...
I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone,
feeling a presence so known;
others before me have knelt and cried,
not to forget whom they lost and dearly loved...
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
My crazy Cousin.
My cousin calls me crazy poet
Cause I don’t think like others
I’ve not seen her since she was three
A Flower girl to us lovers
When we got wed in sixty five
But now we write and all
Oh lord, we two are so alike
It’s just remarkable.
In eight weeks time, she’s coming here
To good old western Oz
I know we’re going to get on well
I do, and that’s because
That girl is crazy just like me
And she likes a good old laugh
She seems to be a grand old bird
I’ll say on her behalf.
She’ll bring her man, and son with her
They’re all creative folk
She can paint and write as well
And boy, it is no joke
The kind of talent that they have
It will be a joy to me
To meet up with forgotten kin
I can’t wait for this to be.
11 August 2013 @ 1813hrs.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
From fabrics torn, in ruin, she hail,
Above the deck, beneath the sail,
Above silent meadow, the sea,
Her frosty breath, in doom, she see.
Her fondness torn, her kids apart,
Though love follows her broken heart,
Her sorrow tears on rusted chains,
For holding children once again.
The howling steam erased skies,
And fright gallops the silent cries,
As faces pale in feeble grip,
And sea moaning the crowded ship.
The days are past, remedies none,
The burned down farms from firing sun,
They bent on knees for kids to feed,
Beneath the feet for coin, indeed.
Her husband dead from bones to sweat,
Hard labor earning, closing, debt,
She buried body, beneath the farm,
And begs for mercy, waiting harm.
The beats in rage far fierce than flame,
The bells were rung, with chains they came,
Her toes were trembling, wrath unfolds,
They tortured, beat and tied her, cold.
While taken heart and soul from kids,
The slave in chain with tearful lids,
They dragged and stripped in crowded street,
And brought with slaves to ship, the fleet.
Through cries unheard and night she sails,
With slaves in ship with fuming trails,
To hungers deep in scalding cold,
And chapped lip-lines numb, breaking hold.
Her skin was pale, the hunger tale,
As blue veins rose beneath her nails,
To fading night, her dim eyes sleep,
Her moon-light fades and die asleep.
Copyright © Anees Rahman
All i really ever wanted
End of story
Copyright © Merle Manu
He looks through the curtains as the meal is served
The sweat on his brow and the I.V. drips
Mom wears her apron with a picture of a turkey on it
It was her favorite and the music playing
And I'm coming home to where I'm loved
Father sits watching the game as the plate goes round
He had money on the wrong side but he swigs a beer
Everyone seems happy and content so he knocks on the door
No one hears and he stirs,trying to break free of the restraints
And I'm coming home to the warmth when I'm cold and alone
Where a man works and his wife cleans and raises the boys
Where desolation has no place to hide and no regret
And Mom hasn't begun drinking because her son left and will never come back
Where the geese still fly South to the warmth
Dogs bark and people have to stand to switch the channel
And I'm coming home
No cell phone or video games to gaze at and 24 hour news
The nurse brings a syringe and plunges it into my I. V.
The Angel wipes my soaking brow and gives me comfort
I'm alone with the mist and the murmur of the crickets
I'm coming home
The house is quiet and emptiness within
But Mom left a light on with expectation
A sign was set for all to know I'm coming
The quiet is lovely and the light welcomes
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall
"Here's the village Idiot
Here comes the loony fool"
So many taunts did follow him
Oh kids can be so cruel!
The Alien, his face all cowed
With caution treads his way
As the gossip done, invades him every day.
He's a shade too short on mighty brawn
He's a pilgrim of the soul
He's a Sailor floating through his dreams
And he has no worldly goals
And when those kids kicked footy balls
And swore and carried on
The alien got lost within his own song.
He's been told that he be nothing
By so many through the years
And now his body broken
Still wading in his fears
The wings have made to open up
So the butterfly may rise
And so the mighty Phoenix
must head he for the skies.
Dec 22 2003.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Ballad of the poet
When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early,
early bird gets the worm.
With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~ *K.D*
Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn,
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see," *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen.
BUT! In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul * R.A.D.*
"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within" *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart." *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul... *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time. *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace. *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face. * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace! *G.S.*
(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
I remember the very first time I saw you,
You wiped the sweat off your forehead,
I remember what all I use to say to you,
Followed my heart, I love you,
Maybe I needed to guard what I say,
Or express it in another way,
I hope I did you no harm,
Or is that what you call destiny,
Please know in your heart,
Eventhough how things played out,
My life and all its' worth,
Worth calling existing - living,
And without ever crossing paths,
My life would have been blah,
Words can not express how I feel about you,
Celebrate our love, if nothing more ever than be my best friend,
You are my very breath and hope of hearing from and possibly seeing you,
The very reason I make it through another day,
Our love we will celebrate far and away,
But in my heart, you are right here with me today,
I love you friend,
You make this world and all it contains worth living,
My heart smiles when it thinks of you,
I will somehow express my heart before I leave this earth,
So much I want to say,
I don't want to complicate things,
I just want you to be healthy, happy and carefree,
I know you love me,
You don't have to say it like I so often do,
I knew day one,
When I became good friends to you!
I love you, boo!
Best of luck,
Live like you were dying!
Copyright © Jason Fisher
Written by my Cousin Susan Northwood who thinks she cannot write. She wrote this poem for me. pleaser let her know that she can write very well, she is also an excellent artist. By the way, I am back from my holiday, and glad to be back with you all.
My cousin Alf.
Whilst searching on the net one day
A name jumped out on me
Peter Duggan, as he is known
My cousin, that he be.
A crazy man, a writer too
Speaks his mind, I kid not you
He loves to argue, and debate
Gossip, and trivia, he does so hate.
He wrote me emails, all the time
And many poems in rhythm, and rhyme
His words were calming, made sense to me
Helped my fears,and anxieties.
Life for him had not been kind
Bullied, beaten, and a troubled mind
But here he was, helping me
With all my anger, that He could see
As time did pass, my life got better
Thanks to him, and all his letters
Back and forth, we wrote like mad
Happy laughing, and sometimes sad.
Now here in Oz, I've come to see
My cousin, and his family
Yes he's just how I imagined
Loves all life, and writes with passion.
He argues, talks, and often shouts
Sings, and laughs, but what about?
Yes, he's blunt, and can be rude
He'll shock you too, if you're a prude
But underneath his suit of armour
There stands a man, who's met his karma
All he wants is peace in in life
No more trouble. fights and strife.
There's many souls who cannot cope
With this loud, outspoken bloke
But I know where this man is from
He says it in his words and songs.
So for me he is not Peter
Or Billy, John or Ralph
He simply is my cousin
Also known as Alf.
Written by Susan Northwood, for Peter Duggan.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
I write to you as a writer
know you are in school
Because you are still a big fool
Your being wise
On your book
that you should keenly look
open every page sister
read every text sister
Get that wisdom
Embrace that wisdom.
sister write every word
paint every picture
for those words
pictures your future
so don't sleep
for you might slip.
it is now 7 months
in your form three
I check at my wrist
my watch is ticking
click by click
time is whiled away
sister use every chance
exploit every minute
for you are worth
living this earth.
I have to say
u got the accident
I realized you are a light
to several hearts
embrace that and shine
For you are a true NDHINE
you are the MARVELOUS GRIFFINS
Realize your potential
for you are exponential....
come next year
I want to praise you dear
I want to hear the people calling out
I want to hear the world shout
I want to see your parents Marvel
For they gave birth to Marvelous Marvelous.
May you live long and shine bright like white.
Copyright © Griffins Ndhine
I have a mother like no other...
Never really understood her when i was younger...
To others she was always kind and giving...
Yet to her children she was mostly harsh and controlling...
I have always wanted to know why but never did...
And as i age i often felt like a lost kid...
Constantly searching for love and care...
Something i felt my own mother would not even bare...
Now that she has aged too...
It breaks my heart and makes me shed a tear or two...
To see her old and weary...
Crossed my mind to ask her finally...why mommy?
Then it suddenly dawned on me...i do not need an answer...
For all i have to do is look at her...
Hard and long enough, without any anger...
Think of all the people she kept under her wings...
And be thankful of how they took off and soared...
Because of all the love my mother could afford...
I figured if she has saved a life at our expense...
Then....everything makes sense...
Copyright © Eliza Dimagiba
Cousin words can't explain but let me try to it in a frame
if something in the house break they blame it on the youngest
Cousin if you ask them how they doing they tell you stay out of grown folks business and I'm think you aint nothing but a few years older me
Cousin why if you say something they want to try to to be little you
yeah i be on hush mouth but it not like they mind readers
word come to mind of you calhoun you are few words short of become a typhoon leadership quality but lead in the wrong way
I told my self if I got older I be good older cousin hey did you go classes today? And funny thing about it either they try colleges and finishes it or they found a trade.
I aint a perfect man but who is
I aint the waterboy but Im going to hit the bench and get few reps in
I know it is close 4 AM.
Angry management I think should be told in school
so many physiology why not put them in schools and what I learn in life
Is to out think your opponent for right now just words to a page like
grandpa said family is all you got
never knew why some people did not claim there kin
I ask what is the world come to.
Copyright © Louis Borgo
My Family is very important to me
We are all united
We all love each other
Being together just makes us so excited
Now I'm going to tell you about my mom
She loves us all
She is always so calm
She does so much for us
Next up is my dad
He always tries to be so funny
But his jokes are so bad
It's really quite sad
Last is my brother
He really likes to dance
He's really like no other
Being silly is really his thing
Copyright © Hannah Stockwell
Lets climb up that old tree,
make the clouds disappear.
Let’s climb up that old, lemon colored tree,
make the rain clouds disappear.
Rough wood, and a rickety ladder,
White christmas lights trim the slumping roof
over a few branches
and we're crawling-
through the doors
of a star-gazing tree house
full of nostalgia.
Sounds of traffic, cross walk conversations
Trotting past that old jazz bar,
a mexican family arguing on the stoops,
funny how an unknown language
can still make sense on the inside.
the mother gestures her son upstairs to sleep,
But my world’s only waking.
There’s a party up ahead.
and there’s something ‘bout the nights’ breeze
blowing off the cars and into the trees.
its Got my heart singing about this new love I’ve found.
Copyright © Katelyn Dobbs
I have lived,
And felt the cost,
Paid my dues,
But I have lost_ You.
Still I pray,
As chaos looms,
And as my blue turns into grey,
The angels sing- In tune.
Don't be giving in,
Don't give up my son,
Or fade away,
Lift your chin with the sun__ And rise,
With this new day!.
I have lived,
And felt the cost of all my wonderin ways,
I've paid my dues,
I - Have lost you.
I can hear the angels sing,
Your in a mistaken land__ Lessons learned in truth,
As the grey seeks out the blue,
She will__ Your daughter my son---
She will return--- To You.
For I have lived,
Felt the cost of all my walkin days,
I've paid my dues,
I- Lost you....
I wont be giving in,
Won't give up my girl,
Or fade away,
I'll lift my chin with the sun---
With this new day...
Copyright © Ryan Harris
I cant believe Im going to have my own family, something I never had;
Its time to step up and be a real dad;
Now I can remember the things that make me happy and forget the things that make me sad;
Its time that I start doing good than the bad;
I want for my child to see me as a role model;
Its time I break my own chains to that alcoholic bottle;
I want to be that someone who can be trusted to follow;
I silently cry at night because the truth is hard to swallow;
I jus hope I can make that change today not tomorrow;
I got to change before I end up in an?early hearst;
My art is my gift and alcohol is my curse, I must break my own alcoholic thirst;
I must relieve my own selfishness tendencies before they burst;
I got to stop making alcohol my only because its no longer just about me, because my very own family comes first
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill
Sweet Angel of mine
Euphoria as high as the eye can see
The immediate cultivation of a man
In the most blissful of moments
On that special day you came to be
So delicate, so precious
Those distinguishable features
Leery eyed, despite a struggle to focus
And for that one brief instant your expression begged the question…
Do I know you?
In this one shining moment a connection took form
The sealing of a bond, strong enough to withstand the most horrific storm
The pride that was embedded
The reflection was prophetic
Whatever will be your endeavor, you have an eternal protector
This world can swallow you if you let it
So, shine my little angel
Find strength in your name
Someday you’ll know pain,
But always remember
The first man who held your hand will always be your softest place to land
Always and forever
But for this day, beauty has been refined and enhanced
So will you save the last dance?
You can walk with me in a park
You can speak your worst fears
You can tell me what’s on your heart
You can dampen my shirt with tears
And they’ll be a day when you blossom and you’ll find that love expands
The feeling moves you
The energy super
It will lead you down an aisle towards your future
And you’ll still be my little angel
Just know that in all your days
Whether from here or above
Forever my angel
For always in my heart
For you, all my love
Copyright©2013 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved
Copyright © Daryl Gaines
I pray for the day,
That my sweet child comes home,
To my loving arms,
So, I can love and hold them tightly,
Each and everyday of their lives,
To be there for them and guide them,
As they learn to grow,
Into a wonderful adult,
That I know they will become,
For they have such a wonderful heart,
And as people will see them grow each year,
Learning along their way,
Having their own imagination,
To shine and guide them,
To be a very unique person of their own,
But they are already very different,
In many different ways,
By their looks and their loving heart,
And of course being very smart,
Their beauty will shine,
In many different ways,
Both inside and out,
And I pray for the day,
They will come home,
To stop these painful, loving tears.
Copyright © John Hembree
Look after Joe our mother said
We promised we would do it
She needed a break from all of us
And went out of town for a visit.
It was the spring of '93
The blizzard had ruined my place
So Sam was helping clean up my yard
Little did we know
We'd soon be red in the face!
I went down to check on Joe
He asked me to regulate his shower
I told him I'd do it later
And asked if he could wait an hour.
An hour passed, then two
We were busy with what we were doing
We forgot Joe needed a hand
And was sitting, waiting, stewing.
When I remembered to go back
I found it out of my power
For Joe had taken matters into his own hands
And was stepping out of the shower.
You adjusted the water, I began
Oh no Miss Emily
I could not do it myself
It was that nice policeman.
Where did you find a policeman
Out here in the sticks, I cried
Knowing in my heart something was wrong.
Easy Miss Emily, I figured it out
I needed help,
So I dialed 911.
I was horrified, afraid they would think us bad
For neglecting our uncle that fine spring day
Too busy to give him what he needed
Scared they'd take him away.
Oh no probem Jane
The man said when I called
We understand what happened today
Just tell Uncle Joe if he does it again
That out of his pocket he'll pay.
Our mother was not happy with us
But eventually thought it great fun
That Uncle Joe took matters into his own hands
And for help, dialed 911.
Copyright © E.J. Smith
Last night I dreamed
The dream I had was all in white
As pure as driven snow
And the whiteness of it all
Did bring me down quite low
There was something very scary there
In the whiteness of it all
The sameness there in everything
Kind of drove me up the wall.
I looked into the neighbours yard
As the sun was shining bright
I heard an infant screaming loud
There bathed within the sunlight
Was parked a pram upon the lawn
Which glowed with mystery
My mother’s passion was aroused
I took a look to see
I peeped into that pure white pram
A babe was lying there
All swaddled in a pure white shawl
Just white was everywhere
The whole wide world, Was beamed in light
It was a scary feel
I found myself in corridors
This place it seemed unreal.
Each corridor was long and winding
Like serpents, in my dream
And everywhere were locked, white rooms
This place to me it seemed
Like a hospital, insane asylum
Or something of this kind
I just ran round, and round, and round
With panic in my mind.
I could not find my room at all
And every one I asked
Just looked at me with blank expressions
It was a mammoth task
Trying to find where I was at
It almost drove me mad
And then I saw my. Daughter there
And boy! this made her glad.
She handed me the baby
And told me loudly “Take it”
And then I woke up from my sleep
It made me think a bit
As to what this dream was all about
It was the strangest dream
I’d love to get into my mind
And find out what it means.
28 July 2013 @ 1417hrs.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Life is you and me
while the earth go's around
each of us you see.
life is like a maypole
if we are strong at heart
with family or friends
we always stick together
until the very end.
life is like a maypole
a simple smile will do
to get each of us through.
life is you and me
no matter what your problem is
don't let go,
just go with God flow-- because
life is like a maypole
Copyright © SHARLOTTE NEWAN
He holds the bear gently in his old wrinkled hands as he gazes into its kind beaded eyes. The toy collector sees love lined in its double stitches and his childhood in the busted toys smile.
There stitched in black thread he can hear the sound of a child laughter, happiness, and growth reviving his memory of youth, like a jolt of life to an empty vein.
The years have passed freely, almost fleeting by. He had no more time to play in grassy school yards or hide from girls wearing satin dress, he had to grow up. The boy eventually turned into a man and was forced to pack away his toys regrettably into a wooden box.
There they sat in the attic awaiting the return of their beloved friend while he aged slowly into an adult.
High school came and went, college, even marriage but unfortunately he was never blessed with his own child. No one to share in the lined pleats of his own childhood. All of this he now recognizes in the bears sandy eyes.
The toy collector hands his most prized procession to his wife, a dazed look covering his forlorn face.
She takes his withered hand and speaks gently in his ear.
“All the memories in the world could never replace the love between a man and his bear.”
“Yes, but even the toy collector eventually grows to old and must let go.”
He replies in woe.
His thin lips force a smile as he repacks the boxes that escaped him long ago and in the early morn of the next day he patently sits alone outside for a bus to come.
The driver honks her horn and greats him with a warming smile.
“Are all of these toys for our orphanage?”
The toy collector regrettably nods.
“Things have been pretty rough but this will surly lift there sprits up.”
She confesses as she gently grabs a random box.
As she stacks them one by on into the now cluttered van his bear falls onto the pavement below.
Unable to pick it up he wrinkles his brow with great sadness.
Suddenly the passenger door opens revealing the face of a young girl and as she draws near she extends her hand and clutches the bear.
“Did you find a friend little Lou?”
His heart melts as she kisses the teddy gently then smiles.
The child coos softly.
The toy collector lives in the toys he collects, but the man lives forever in the bear the child now possesses.
Copyright © Whitney Hart
We took her to the nursing home
to visit family,
She happily skipped down its halls
beside the elderly.
Withered hands reached for curls,
Old eyes filled with duress,
Some followed her in patched wheelchairs
and praised her pretty dress.
Those darling giggles brought them near
as she played silly games,
And several ladies called her closer,
each using different names.
A wheezing man gave her biscuits
then pleaded that she pray
so she clasped her hands for him
in her angelic way.
She proudly danced for worn nurses,
Then sang her A, B, C’s,
And drummed out the barking curses
of stale senility.
Oh, my girl treated them like pets
Who had just too far roamed,
And sweetly asked with guileless eyes,
“Why can’t I take one home?”
*For Joann Grisetti's Copy Cat Contest
*This poem is a tribute to Edna St Vincent Millay's A Visit to the Asylum, done in a similar form (ballad), though Edna's syllable count is looser. This is based on our weekly visits with my father-in-law. We take my daughter and she brings such joy to the place, yet my blood freezes as I'm never sure who will say what to her, and erratic strangers are contantly trying to pull her into their laps, steal hugs and kisses. It is both beautiful and disturbing and I've been wanting to write about this for several months. I had seen the similiarity between Edna's poem and my daughter's experiences. Glad to put this to paper in this way. Thanks, Joann.
Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan