If we don’t feel with our hearts, we don’t belong
If we don’t see as one, the world is wrong
Beyond the wars and the hate and the insanity
We are all connected as humanity
We are the child with cancer who still wears a smile
We are the kid from the projects facing trial
We are the pregnant teen feeling lost and used
We are the elderly man in a home abused
We are the young couple, marriage on the rocks
We are the homeless one in a cardboard box
We are the cold and hungry, sad and depressed
We are the lonely child who never felt blessed
We are the woman whose life was filled with pain
We are the man standing alone in the pouring rain
We are the child who struggles day to day
We are the teenage girl who ran away
We are the soldier killed in an unjust war
We are the young man who can dream no more
We are the inmate locked away for life
We are the old man who has lost his wife
We would be better off without our vanity
And have a sense of belonging to humanity.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2010
The old man sat with eyes closed, dozing in his chair
Until a little voice he heard say “Grandpa, are you there”.
He gazed upon a little boy while waking from his nap
Then reached down with a sweeping move and placed him in his lap
The child was carrying a book that he wanted him to see
He held it up and asked him “Grandpa, will you read to me”?
The old man cleaned his glasses then opened up the book
And suddenly the two of them a wonderous journey took
They ventured lands so far away, sailed seas not sailed before
Met knights and kings and wizards on every distant shore.
Together they fought dragons, saved damsels in distress
Freeing lands of monsters and the treasures they possess
When the old man closed the cover to end their magic ride
He told the boy “We're much like books, what's important is inside”.
But one day when the boy arrived and rushed to Grandpas chair
Much to his disappointment, his Grandpa was not there
He ran to find his mother for surely she would know
Why the chair was empty, where did his Grandpa go
She sat him down and asked him if he remembered in each book
The adventures and the journeys that he and Grandpa took
He took you there to show you the things that you can find
The wonders that are yours to see if you open up your mind.
But he still walks beside you in the stories you have read
You're not left to go alone, he’s just gone on ahead
The child then went and chose a book and climbed up in the chair
And opening up the cover whispered “Grandpa, are you there”?
Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011
When pebbles knead the holes in my shoes
These torn eyes writhe from my orphan blues,
A lost soul quivering in the cold...
I feel alone, a birth date untold
No parents cupping my sullen face;
While time grates in this runaway place.
They say that I was darn negated,
Like a package, somehow, quite hated
Thrown quickly in an old garbage truck..
But why, why, did I run out of luck?
I dream of running free through the corn;
To be nestled and family- born…
Still, nights cut pain; my wishes decay
In foster homes where I briefly stay.
But rags comfort me,” kid, you’ll be fine,
When adoption brings love’s true sunshine!”
For the Contest, Trashed #4,
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Written by: nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
Is it fear indoctrinated in to our head,
or are there monsters hiding under our bed.
Are they stories to scare a child to behave,
or are you tempting the dead to leave their grave.
As mysterious shadows embrace the night,
are you proud you've made your child sleep in fright?
For there are monstrosities that do exist,
demons hiding as humans in the mist.
It's not vampires nor werewolves that cause fear today,
paedophiles are the danger you need to keep away.
Pretending to be a child behind a screen,
manipulating them, to behave obscene.
On vulnerable children they will prey,
so be careful they are not led astray.
All parents need to protect their child from this beast,
or in your ignorance, they'll become their next feast.
27 May 2016
Boogeyman - Poetry Contest by Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016
Black Diamond Child
Black diamond child with hopeless eyes
In your frightful future your talent lies
No worth is greater than watching you grow
To a world whose wealth you may not know
The street schools you in the ways of hate
And the price of your life’s at dime store rate
Black diamond child with searching eyes
In the rough you sparkle in disguise
Young boy, young girl, you're the toughest stones
Regardless of your precarious homes
Your genes are heirs to our African past
Through you, millennials, our race will last
Grab hold to a dream and pray it comes true
That the doors of this country will open to you
Black diamond child with joyless eyes
Like an ebony phoenix may you rise!
Your Personal Best of 2016
Sponsored by: Frank Herrera
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2016
She has eyes that have seen all the sky
a smile that is both knowing and shy
Her brow is humble and also proud
Expressions as soft as a shifting cloud.
She is tall and frail like a river reed
Up until now the forest has been her creed
And words that once flowed like a river stream
Now she must search for what they mean
Where once the forest taught her each simple rule
Now she is thrust to study in a Western school
So her body conveys her intentions devout
She stays rooted despite her desire for flight
She absorbs new knowledge like sunlight itself
All her tears are like rain on this hard gained wealth
This shy forest spirit has blossomed and grown
In quiet moments we know where her thoughts have flown
This is my friend's daughter they adopted from Thailand at age 11.
In one year she was speaking fluent English.
She received-american-veterans jrotc-cadet--outstanding-cadet-award/ last year.
Only one cadet per detachment receives the award annually.
She is also a girl guide and on the Volley Ball Team.
I taught her papercrafts and she makes all her own beautiful greeting cards.
She is a true example of a girl rising.
She misses her sister in Thailand who was kept by the family and often thinks of them all
and is torn between the two worlds but understands she has more opportunity here.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
Tucked up in bed so nice and neat
A little girl so very sweet
But all is not quite what it seems
She can’t find sleep because of dreams
Her mother sitting down the stair
Enjoying rest in comfy chair
A tiny voice comes to her ear
The story of her small girls fear
“Mummay mummay”, she faintly sings
“I am afraid of these dark things
Please come quickly my mummay
And chase these frightful dreams away”
Upon the stair a foot does tread
Then she’s beside her daughters bed
Away from eyes her hair she brushes
Red lips kisses, whispers hushes
“Now worry not you are secure
All your bad dreams I’ll endure
Come to me and let us cuddle”
Between the sheets the pair a huddle
Where golden locks begin to mingle
Faces touch and soft cheeks tingle
Hands caress to sooth away
The troubles that upon her prey
Feeling warmth of mothers breast
Against her lightly beating chest
Her eyes they flicker into schemes
Pleasantness pervades her dreams
The demons of her mind withdrawn
She’s free to slumber till the dawn
Soon from the child comes no peep
At last, she finds, her perfect sleep
Mother sees her laying there
With smile beset in golden hair
And wonders in a future day
Her little one will have to say
Now worry not you are secure
All your bad dreams I’ll endure
When in a time far away
Her babe becomes, mummay mummay
R D Seal 18 April 2013
Copyright © Richard D Seal | Year Posted 2013
Years have passed since I buried you
beneath green grasses drenched with dew;
I placed the blossoms, one by one,
a blanket for my only son,
you, my heart's flower, blooming fair,
a mother's rose, uniquely rare.
The bitter grief bubbles inside,
rolling hot waves, a searing tide,
dark desperate, wrenching prayers,
sharp, shattered facets of despair.
Anguish climbs this long hill with me,
the crest of which I never see.
How can one stand beside the mound
where love's sweet baby flesh lays bound?
Faith defies sensibility
and blossoms in eternity.
Copyright, March 28, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015
For many many years her dream was denied
Every month she prayed, every month she cried
Hospital investigations she painstakingly endured
Sadly she was infertile and this couldn’t be cured
She spoke to her husband about adoption
It gave them hope – it was a possible option
Application forms completed, then test after test
Would they be accepted – they hoped for the best
With guts and determination they continued their dream
Would their chance of parenthood ever be seen?
Then they got a phone call, a baby had been found
Abandoned by its mother and left on waste ground
When she finally held the baby for the first time
The smile on her face was simply divine
No longer childless, with her adoption they did gain
Finally parents with a daughter named Charmaine
Contest: Guts and Gain - Olive E Guillermo
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
The door was stiff with rusted bolts but I did my best
the pool of sweat and the rain of tears can all attest.
There were whispers and taunting from fear
but great determination and anticipation covered my ear.
In the heat, your loud, sharp cry gave me the feel of snow
so healthy in appearance and weight- new life in a show.
My new found love exponentially grows which I’m about to promote
thinking differently, my blessed child sees the world as remote.
Sensitive to every touch, already proving social
yet gone and missing was existence’s marshal.
Making me wonder if that was its exact command
praying and wishing it faces nature’s reprimand.
My heart anticipates whether it’s a prince or princess
but life in union with death is a deadly incest.
You touched down on planet earth with your face looking up the sky
you just landed but to acquire your wings and fly.
The inevitable crossing to the other side wasn’t your intention
I was ready to pull the heavens down for an intervention.
Ten minutes after the miracle, joy bathes a soul already faded
but at the same time life is mocked for the blessing to be shaded.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
Impressionable young hearts do tell the grandest lies
When learned from grandfathers with sparkling eyes
Grandfathers living renewed through the breath of a grandchild
Oh grandfathers’ whoppers told in all kindness and glory
The bigger the whopper makes the child’s lies the cute little story
Thus the grandchild’s faith breeching walls of reasonable reality
Simply because beloved grandfather had told the story
My grandfather said it was so- tiny voice of pledged belief
And I believe him -for grandfather would never lie to me
So sleep little one- dream the telling’s of funny grandfathers beloved
For their little lies to you are meant to not make you a worried
But make you believe in the impossibilities of grandeur and extravagance
There is a Santa Clause
The fish really was so big it couldn’t fit in the boat
I wrestled a grizzly when I was just about your age
For in the telling of such blessed little lies
A remembrance of grandfather will never die
The wisdom and laughter thus remembered in each time’s telling
Will warm you over and over- as little lies do you begin the telling
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
When I said what I said I felt justified
I thought surely that God would be on my side
Quoting from scripture I relied on the word
A book filled with love that my heart somehow blurred
I picked up his gift, turned it into a stick
Not following God's lead I made my own pick
Instead I chose to read with encumbered mind
My eyes were wide open, still my soul was blind
Yet within his word my mind would be set free
I learned those other people were just like me
None of us perfect we all have our flaws
We all need acceptance we're not just some cause
Loving each person one moment at a time
When I am not judging, I witness them shine
Each person is perfect in their special way
Accepting like a child I learn how to play
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
When I try to look back, it hurts to start
A mother I was now in continual broken heart
In the innocence of that Sunday quietly shopping away
When my thoughts to humanity go in angered astray
One minute he held my hand, the next he was gone
In suspended silence I float amidst stared public throng
Questions through confusion as to where I stood last
Still feeling his hand, that loving maternal grasp
Lights became brighter, louder were the voices
Still confusion abounds in sporadic lost choices
Who could have taken him, where has he gone
So many voices not singing the same song
Continually I dream about these words you've just read
To the end of my days I can't think of him dead
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2013
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.
I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.
Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.
Beside me standing hand-in-hand, an older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.
I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.
But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.
I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.
A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.
This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.
I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.
The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.
An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.
Copyright © Elaine Ho | Year Posted 2007
A woman shattered the night, with her agonizing scream
Sacrificing her might has dawned realization of a dream.
She has given me a wonderful heir, to bear my name
And left her sweet memories, for the spirits not wane.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
My world is blessed with a baby Queen
her staff and tenderness fills my life in between.
Exciting and preserving like the lily
adding fashion to beauty with a high heel.
Time isn’t in a haste as it goes slow
shades of monstrous trees come a little low.
Existence of a perfect world is beyond apparent
as I handpick all the blessings of being a parent.
Fortune’s and good luck’s prophecies are allowed
to water my seed and present their cloud.
On her dad’s protection, she’s so sure
embracing all the love using it as a cure.
To mend slight bruises from the rough hill
and grind all obstacles in our secret mill.
Now three years, what a beautiful file
starting with a miracle to continue with a smile.
Growing true, strong and beautiful is my reap
roses and sunflowers on this road, no cause to weep.
More parents will applaud as we stand by
making sure we raise you up to fly so high.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
Mother and son
After forty years
A new life
They have begun
They were apart
For so many years
It was impossible
To count and keep track
Of all the tears
It all started
When he was six years old
There were no schools for his kind
They were told
They searched and searched
And finally found
A place that would accept him
But it was far away
In another town
The sad day finally arrived
His father was ill and could not drive
His brother drove the car
His mother and sister
Traveled along with the small lad
To the new place afar
What they had to do
A pleasant thought to think
Out of this cup
They did not have to drink
They realized the time
Was drawing near
They would leave this precious child
In the hands of strangers
Which, he would no doubt fear
This would not only be a school
To train his fragile mind
But would also be his home
For an indefinite period of time
They finally reached their destination
They entered the new world
With great anxiety
And heart felt anticipation
The thought occurred to them
To turn and run
But they realized
They must finish
What they had begun
After the questions were answered
After all the papers were signed
It was time for them to go
And leave the little one behind
They turned to walk away
With tears running down each ones face
As the child screamed
‘mommy don’t leave me in this place!”
Not a word was spoken
On their way home
Each was dealing with this
On their own
He stayed at that home
Until he was eight
Then he moved closer to his mom and dad
Which was great
At the age of ten
His dad passed away
That left his mom alone
To make sure he was taken care of
And that he would be okay
He moved one more time
To a state facility
This would be the last
The next will be
A home in the community
This would be his family
Which he really never had
To share his good times
Along with the bad
Words cannot express the guilt
His mother must have felt
Because her child she had not kept
She did the best that she could do
And no one – but no one
Judges her wrong or untrue
Everyone knew she loved him
With all her heart
And cursed the day they had to part
He is older now and so is she
It is now time for her
To be placed in a state facility
She feels it is payback time
For sending him away
In this awful place
She will have to stay
Her mind is sharp
Her will is strong
She will not give up
Until he is gone
She prays the day will come
When they can be together
And she can make up for the wrong
She feels she has done
I am that sister
That made the long trip
That dreadful day
I now take care of these two precious people
And found them a better place to stay
The day is finally here
Forty years later
Mother and son
Are again together
She has survived death
Many times in the past
Living for this moment
Reunited at last
She wants to make up for all
The time they were apart
And become the mother
She feels she never was
And make a new start
They are now living together
In a place of their own
With assistance from others
They finally have a new home
They are living each moment
As if life has just begun
Finally reunited after forty years
Mother and son
So much laughter and so many tears
So much has happened in the last 10 years
Just seems that time has flown by
And now it is time for the
Reunion in the sky
Daddy went home to be with jesus
Almost 47 years ago
Then sonny then mama and then last
Was betty jo
No more suffering and no more pain
Gordon will be with jesus
And….see mama and daddy again
With open arms and joyous hearts
Betty and sonny will be there too
To welcome gordon home
With his mind and body ‘all new’
Gordon, you gave us much joy and happiness
While you were hear on earth
Now you can enjoy life abundant
And receive your rewards
For all you’re worth
Let our hearts not be sad
For you leaving us
But be happy for you
For you are now perfect
And….best of all
You are with jesus
Let us live our lives the best we can
We will someday see jesus too
….and gordon again
In life we loved you
In death we grieve
We will see you again
This, we truly believe
Thank you gordon
For all the lives you touched
God bless you…and reward you much
Bd july 1997
Ad july 2008
Copyright © charlene solitario | Year Posted 2016
This poem covers the greatest story ever told
Greater than all the kings and all their gold
This story will bring about deep reflection
Starting with the Immaculate Conception
Of all the stories this is the greatest of all
A complex child born in a simple stall
Quickly the news covered the land
A virgin would be Gods right hand
Inside of her womb a God to a son
Imagine this story has just begun
Everyone knew this child was born to design
Just open your heart and look for the sign
Harrod was driven by fear of not being so great
The first-born son was Harrods fate
Jesus escaped the King and awaited the call
To become the greatest glory of all
This is my master this is our Lord
He is the wielder and we are the sword
He chose his disciples of simple men
Hear tell one was straight out of the pen
The Pharisees called on Pilot the king
At the end he said, “I wash my hands of this thing”
I wonder if when Pilot stepped up to the gate
Jesus washed his hands to seal Pilots fate
Or if he opened his arms to welcome him in
Forgiving Pilot of all of his sins
We took our Lord then nailed him to the cross
As far as humanity that was our greatest loss
But through all the loss just look at the gain
Bought by our Lord through sacrifice and pain
Over 2000 years after this child was born
He came to the prison to make my heart warm
Gave me a gift then our Lord set me free
I reckon the rest would be up to me
As you dress up the tree and hang up the lights
Think of the story of our Lords plight
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
God's little children are precious,
They are gifts that God gives to us.
God will guide us to teach them to be sweet,
His word will help us to share, which is neat.
Jesus had experience as a small child,
He is an example to us, tame or wild.
Each child needs to see Jesus' love through us,
Through our witnessing, these children will trust.
Singing or saying a little prayer each day,
This will help little children to walk God's way.
Jesus' footprints are the way to the light,
We lead our children with all of our might.
God's pure and perfect love are what we need,
Leading a child is how we plant a seed.
Teaching our children to pray,
Helps them to know what to say.
They will learn to seek His wisdom and love,
These children will seek for strength from above.
Copyright © Kathy Gillet | Year Posted 2007
God has a plan,
And it is out of my hands.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
Yes in deed, for all to see.
And what a doll you are.
Sun - lit colored ringlets in a row.
You do your little dance for the judges.
For all the world to see, you are the color of poetry.
Second on your talent, as you went strolling by them.
Walking in your sun bonnet and percale, singing along.
Big blue eyes to sparkle and shine.
Then one day they found you dead.
Seems God called you home at last.
Said, come rest your weary head.
Your name on the tombstone read:
JonBenet Ramsey !
3/ 28/ 2012,,,, I put my 8month old daughter in about 4- 5 pageants. She was about 3 last time as I put her on stage, I thought no more of this.
Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013
Wouldn't it be wonderful to wake up one morning
To find you were still a child
So much energy jumping up and down upon your bed
So many wonders and thoughts swirling through your bed
Just fun and play with your dolls or swinging in the trees
Getting a dose of the measles having a poorly on your knee
looking at a catalogue at all the toys
Building a den and playing cowboys and Indians
With the other girls and boys
Dressing up in mummies clothes
catching frogs and picking your nose
Rolling down grassy hills and knowls
Going for summer walks with a bottle of lemonade
Pretending you are a solider standing on parade
Watching cartoons all day on TV
Having a pet to love and feed
Giving your teddy bear a hug
Collecting crawly things like slugs and bugs
Having a big bag of sweets giving a high five to every child that you meet
Having an imaginary friend called Fred
Bed time stories in your Jim Jams in bed
Pretending to be a pirate out at sea
Seeing strange faces in every tree
Licking the cake bowl after mummy makes a cake
Riding on your bicycle or on your roller skates
Reading books under the covers with a torch at night
Playing football flying a kite
Dreaming of becoming an astronaut a fireman and scientist too
having a great day out at the zoo
Playing children's games calling out rude names
Playing in the wood getting up to no good
Getting head Lice in your hair
Sitting in a high chair
Dancing like a loony at a party
Hating girls yuk! with their ribbons and their curls
Doctor Who Winnie the poo Sponge Bob
Larry the Lamb and Batman
and now I'm Superman!
Train set that gives your Farther who bough it for you so much joy
Pink for a girl and blue for a boy
playing on the swings and slide
Bucket and spade making sand castles at the seaside
Everyone saying 'awe aren't you sweet'
Coco pops egg and toast soldiers to eat
Balloons floating high into the sky
your older sister hitting you and making you cry
Sitting on your potty
pacifier in your mouth
'Mummy I've done a poo'you shout
'Good boy I'll lift you out.
sitting in your pram Being pushed everywhere by your Mam
Going on a bus singing a little song
looking out the window and sticking out your tongue
Digging in the garden eating worms and soil
Having earache Pouring in olive oil
playing with your rubber duck and battleship
while your in the bath
reading your favourite comics and having a laugh
Asking lots of questions your parents find hard to answer
'Where do babies come from?' Having your leg in plaster
playing in the school yard playing hide and seek
Being poorly every week
new shoes happy feet holding mommy's hand and skipping down the street
Watching the fish swim around your fish tank
Putting pennies in your piggy bank
Ooh how my dipper must have stank
Ice cream and jelly tots uhhm I used to scoff the lot
playing a tree in a school play
Packing a suitcase and running away
throwing pebbles in a pond all day long.
Phew I'm shattered after al that. imagine doing all that now. the mere thought
tires me out.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014
A short while back when Shayla was three, Written just for Barbara's Contest.
I took my granchild's child to the Zoo with me.
She sat in he stroller as we pushed her around,
And she knew almost every creature we found,
Lion goes "RRRR" and Tiger goes "Roar,"
Hippos go "plplplpl" which I'd not heard before.
She knew elephants, horses, gorillas and monkeys,
She knew snakes and Gnus and eurasian donkeys.
Since the day was warm and the child needed a nap,
We sat in the shade on a blanket with her head on my lap.
We ate our lunch as I watched our dreamer,
Who woke and ate hers then pointed up at a lemur.
"Julian" cried the child, "Thats right" cried her mother,
And I looked from one grandkid to another.
When we got home, the child ran to prove it.
In Madagascar, thats a Julian who likes to move-it moveit.
Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2010
Before I even watched your birth,
I had already failed you first.
Collecting bones in closets damned.
To proxies labor done withstand.
Mistakes go down with Jacks and cokes.
A childhood ends in perished hopes.
The years apart we will to stand.
Regret to always catch the man.
My sorrow carving name in stone,
A Father never dies alone.
Couplet : Iambic Tetrameter
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014
I held you in my arms for the very first time,
Elated my son was perfect, he was simply sublime.
New life that I had pushed into the world,
Precious baby, oh how my emotions whirled.
With light blonde hair and eyes of blue
I fell in love the very second I saw you
Home from hospital, oh how our lives changed
Took its toll on us - our sleep pattern rearranged!
It is quite challenging getting used to being a new mum
I wouldn’t have changed a moment with my precious son
Everyday you flourished I was amazed how quickly you grew
Crawling, walking ,talking there was always something new
I was very lucky and didn’t get the baby blues
You were so adorable, didn’t have the terrible twos
You adored reading books and sitting next to me
Friends would come to visit and you’d play happily
You slept with your teddy he was called ‘Blue’
We had a duplicate teddy...but you never knew!
How quickly the years passed, oh how time flies
It’s over twenty years since I sang you lullabies
From toddler to teenager you were our pride and joy
I am truly blessed to have such an amazing boy
At school you thrived and passed your qualifications
Then worked in computers, traveling to far off locations
Now you are away from home studying for your degree
When you graduate the proudest mum in the world will be me!
You fill our lives with laughter and joy,
I love you so much my wonderful boy.
Contest: My Lovely Child
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
My youngest child taught me something today
That I had almost forgotten along the way
At this precious age the focus isn’t money
Or finding the promised land of milk and honey
As soon as we decorated our Christmas tree
She placed a gift beneath it saying, “For mommy from me”
It wasn’t a gift from a catalog or store
This special gift was so much more
She ran to her room, found her favorite toy, you see
Then placed it in a cracker box and gave it to me
No wrappings or ribbons just the heart of my child
With glowing eyes and a tender loving smile
That, my friends, is how Christmas should be
Because the best gifts aren’t found beneath the tree
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
“…and a little child will lead them.”~ Isaiah 11:6
Copyright © Lena Townsend | Year Posted 2009
Can you remember this feeling very much.
Hearing something in the kitchen making a fuss.
I can remember it so well, it's like yesterday.
Pots and pans wrattle, as I'm outside to play.
I would be playing in the dirt or kicking a beach ball.
Hearing mamma in the kitchen, hoping she'd call.
I know that she's cooking dinner in there.
I'm not sure what it is and I don't really care.
I am completely dirty from my head to my toes.
Is there dessert or ice cream, she only knows.
I can smell the cooking from the yard and all sides.
With realization I know it's sloppy joe and french fries.
How it was when I was young.
Freedom around the yard I could roam.
I loved my mamma and daddy for just being there.
I'd be nothing without them, no love or no care.
-No contest, just some things I was thinking.
Copyright © Donald Williams | Year Posted 2013
I nestled her… dear January child
My arms her manger on a night beguiled.
Those pink fingers twitching to feel new dawn
As long hours of labor seemed quite undone,
When babe mildly chuckled, I wept with mirth
For heaven’s gift …this miracle of birth,
Then to race on woods picking flowers, aglow
Playful a youngster’s seasons like a river’s flow,
Enchanting girlhood days prepared to learn
Of adventures where she tried to discern;
The meaning of right from wrong, and uphold
Values from home,school… her years growing bold.
Now at nineteen, Camille reaches to life
Balancing the grace of pleasure and torn strife.
O I love how she nurtures her own fire
Remaining steady with a heart’s desire,
To follow new adult’s path…kind yet gritty,
My January child, the breath that’s me.
My Lovely Children Contest for Laura Loo
Inspiration from the mother of my dear godchild
and niece, Camille
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013
I remembered that very hot humid day.
I forgot the sun shining down on the grave.
I remembered a howling and a scream.
I forgot the scream was coming from me.
I remembered holding in my arms a soft little bundle.
I forgot a lifeless body laid inside in a huddle.
I remembered putting her inside the coffin.
Then I saw her face and I forgot nothing
I remembered, oh how I hate remembering.
I forgot that all I had left of her, was remembering.
I remembered burying my child in agony.
I forgot she was supposed to bury and cry over me.
T M Ioane.
Copyright © Tiaua M Ioane | Year Posted 2014