Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
A single horn
From the center of its forehead
Beauty in its essence
On a cold, cold night with a touch of snow, a cat wished quietly and sadly for a home.
For a year he’d found nowhere with love to call home. Yes, he’d been, so very, very alone.
He lived under a deserted car now, where his family had lived long ago, for a while.
They were now gone to a new home, and he feared, he couldn’t carry on without them, my dear.
So before going to bed he wished on a star, which appeared ever so brightly above, from far.
All he wanted from anyone was some food, and to sleep next to a warm, warm fire, too.
As he fell asleep he also wished for a hand to touch his fur, gently and kindly, again.
Then he awoke to a sound he’d heard once before, as Christmas bells had tolled, long ago… He was sure.
That night an old man in red had come from out of nowhere, to take his family a new home, so fair.
Scared by the sleigh and the reindeer he drove, the cat had run away, that I know to be true.
But not any more would he run away, his legs would no longer take him very far, any way.
He grabbed all his courage and around he snuck, until hiding under a bush nicely tucked.
There before him was a jolly old man with his reindeer and sleigh lined up, yes, again.
The man was dressed in warm, warm clothes, and stopped to lay down a beautiful bowl.
The man then turned away to do business forthright, inside the neighboring house that night.
I swear on my heart that this is ever so true, as the cat crept closer giving curiosity it’s due.
Coming closer he could sense the most wonderful smell, calling him forward, as if under a spell.
The bowl was filled with warm, warm cream, which he licked up fast as if caught in a dream.
Moments later the man came from that house, with a smile and a wink for that dear old cat.
The man in red picked up the bowl with a quiet demand, urging him gently to stroll to his hand.
Now was the dilemma to run, or to stay, but it was the large shining star that decided it all that day.
As he stood before that great big man in red, the star beckoned brightly from behind the man’s head.
The cats’ fears left as the man stayed with a smile and a grin, and a Ho Ho Ho that day, my friend.
He realized here was the home he’d wanted for so long, and had dreamt in his head, where he could belong.
Some how, he knew he’d be safe in that beautiful sled, and warm in that coat the color of red.
He came forward to lick and nuzzle the man, as yes; he was picked up gently, in his hand.
The jolly old man put him snug in his coat, as a red nosed reindeer winked from the front, I must note.
Then the man climbed in and sent forward the sleigh, as the cat curled up to sleep, the rest of the way.
Miracles can happen each day, at the hand of others who are wise and kind, I say.
This jolly old man was right in this deed, and ever so wise to stop and kind to care, you see…
So I’ll let you in on a little secret I know…
They lived happily ever after, at the North Pole.
It's the night before Christmas,
And I and the cat,
Patrol the house,
In search of that,
Which could cause harm,
To kith or kin,
Though the job is mine,
The cat is my friend,
So he comes along,
To help where he can,
And we have devised,
A workable plan.
He'll give the call,
If he sees something strange,
And I'll come a-runnin',
That's what we've arranged.
The war cry he gives,
Is a terrible screech,
And I have to admit,
It gives me the creeps.
One night 'bout this time,
A few years ago,
We thought we heard something,
Outside in the snow.
The cat crept up,
To the window sill,
And he gave a cry,
That was eerie and shrill.
The folks were all gone.
They were at church,
And up on the roof,
Came a clatter and lurch;
Then some strange old man,
In a funny red suit,
Came down the chimney,
With a sack filled with loot.
I was on the attack.
None of our stuff,
Would he put in that sack.
Back up the chimney,
He flew in disgrace,
And reindeer were running,
All over the place.
They took off like a rocket,
Swooped low and then high.
I swear that I never,
Knew reindeer could fly.
Some poor old lady,
Was out in the street,
Never knew what hit her,
It was reindeer feet.
Her husband stood staring,
In total dismay,
And they sing about her,
To this very day;
How on her way home,
From the church which was near,
Grandma got run over,
By eight reindeer.
It's the night before Christmas,
And I and the cat,
Are on the alert,
But he won't be back.
(Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
(walking home from church on Christmas Eve,
(Ohhhh you can say you don't believe in Santa,
(but as for me and Grandpa --- WE BELIEVE!)
(Now you know the whole story)
For Last Fifty Poems Contest by Brian Strand
For DejaVu Christmas contest by Debbie Guzzi
Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.
Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,
was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.
Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways.
Christmas paper shreds;
Cats chasing curly ribbons;
Oh no, call the vet!
Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group
A grin, a smile, so happy to see.
To be with your loved ones, your family.
All the things,
You think Christmas could be.
But not in this house,
For I am alone,
Just my cat and a mouse,
Make up my little home.
There are those more fortunate,
But don't shed a tear,
Don't start to cry.
For this is the life,
I have made for myself.
I have some salt pork,
And some beans on the shelf.
On the really cold nights,
I must look a sight,
I have my space heater,
To make it feel right.
I'll grab my blanket,
And get cozy and warm,
Have to watch my budget,
Save for a storm.
Is the cat and the mouse,
Scurrying here and there,
All over the house.
A knock at my door,
Is never heard,
Except for the banker,
He is such a nerd.
He wants his money,
I tell him next week,
But that's not good enough,
My land he does seek.
I'll be out by Christmas,
A miracle I need,
But I have a weakness,
To help less fortunate than me.
I have good neighbors,
In this little country town,
For me, help is not an option,
For they never come around.
But this is ok,
For a loner I am,
They don't know what they're missing,
When I get out the spam.
Such a meal it will make,
A special dinner for me,
Maybe for Christmas,
We'll just have to see.
There lives a widow woman,
Not far from my place,
But she wont accept help,
She thinks it's a disgrace.
So when she has,
A few cents to spare,
I'll go down and help her,
Without a care.
But this is not enough,
To save my little house,
I wonder what will happen,
To the cat and the mouse.
I can't take them with me,
I have no place to go,
It is so cold now,
It is starting to snow.
But fear not for me,
Or the cat and the mouse,
For they are best buddies,
And don't need a house.
I'll be alright,
I have it all figured out,
I'll go visit the banker,
And sleep in his HOUSE.
If you made it this far I wish to thank you for reading. This is not my life ..... well some of it
is .... I do have a cat ..... he's such a mean putty cat ....lol. I wrote this because I was
reminded of the less fortunate. Don't just think of them at Christmas time, but always. Ken