No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.
I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm motions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.
Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.
My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug,
Is all I need to succeed,
You are, my only creed!
A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby,
my arms are your bed.
“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”
A is for Annie Apple Blossom she buds in the Spring.
B is Betty Baby Breath she's such a dainty thing.
C is for Miss Candy Tuft pink-cheeked with hair of gold.
D is Debbie Dandelion who never does what she's told!
E is for Easter Lily she's as white as snow.
F is Francie Fairy Bells who ring-a-lings where she goes.
G is for Ginny Gardenia perfumed oh so sweet.
H is Holly Hocks a Tomboy, she has two left feet!
I is for Inca Lily dressed in colors light.
J is Joanie Jump-Ups, Johnny's little sister bright.
K is for Katie Kangaroo Paw her nails are painted red.
L is Lila Lady Slipper who stays too long a bed.
M is for Merry Morning Glory dressed in pale blue.
N is Nancy Narcissus who trumpets ""toodeloo!"
O is for Olivia the Ox-Eyed Daisy dolly.
P is Patty Petunia, her pancakes are a folly.
Q is for Queenie Anns Lace her dresses all have ruffles.
R is Ruby Rose-a-lee who almost always shuffles.
S is for Sandy Snap Dragon tall and thin. petite.
T is Tallulah Tulip her clothes are so off beat!
U is for Uma Umbrella Flower, sweet and sunny.
V is Vicky Violet she plays with Easter bunnies.
W is for Wendy Water Lily she'd rather swim than dance.
X is Xana Xmas Tree in Winter she's entrancing.
Y is for Yani Yarrow, a girl so bonny fair
Z is Zelda Zinnia, she pinning Yani's hair.
All our girls are fine and strong, so beautiful and brave
Not a single one of them would think to misbehave!
Bio: Wise woman.
PINK TENNIS SHOES
I mother always pride galore
until the words from daughter abhor.
Her gentle heart and loving embrace
smashing to pieces. She fell from grace.
Her untied tenny shoe, wrapped and tight
around her bike, could free no might.
Mommy checking faithful each half hour
found her daughter helpless, no power.
Down the hill mommy went
no time was wasting nor was spent.
The wind passed threw my long hair locks
when shock took over from what I got.
Not what I thought from bike I bought
but cruelest words, my life distraught.
From those lips kissed each night to bed
not once, nor twice, but thrice to head.
“Hurry up old lady” from my daughter
how my heart bleed of tears and water.
For no words crueler ever sere spoke.
My shame, the horror on face neighborhood folk.
My tail between my legs indeed
got there, put there by my third bore seed.
And mothers day and birthday too
three days from now turn 45, BOO-HOO!
Never knew my aging beauty fade
would be this hard for the lies I’ve made.
Lies I’ve told to self each day
that children’s love fulfillment may.
So on this very special mothers day
this “old lady” family f--- off say.
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.
Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope
My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans
Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure
Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir
Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile
Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame
The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees
(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace". I hope that it does not insult
The greatest joy I’ve ever known
A miracle to call my own
So warm and soft and sweet and true
A blessing like I never knew
Worth every ounce of pain and fear
Each heartfelt doubt and wondering tear
Can I be what she deserves?
Are my virtues fit to serve?
Each question harder than the last
All faded now into the past
I gaze upon her perfect face
Full of beauty, peace and grace
A life that’s only just begun
Shining brighter than the sun
My heart has swelled beyond extreme
An ever loving living dream
Gratitude and hope abound
Heaven sought and Glory found
Strength and courage multiply
Seeing through Love’s own true eye
The greatest joy I’ve ever known
A miracle to call my own
Give me vodka, give me rum
I love the feeling of being numb
Give me a glass of Hennessy
I don’t care, just give it all to me
Everything is getting blurry
Why am I so filled with fury?
Alcohol all day and night
The only thing that feels all right
Can’t live without a single sip
I need the taste right on my lip
I killed myself with a dreadful thought
I’m the thing I cursed and fought
Mirror told me all the truth
I saw myself, I saw my youth
I’m filled with sorrow, I’m driven mad
I am just like my dreadful dad
Can I stop it? I don’t know
Addiction throws me back and fro
Alcohol is my fire of lust
Burning me as if it must
Killing my innards, destroying my mind
All because life wasn’t kind
Trapping myself, now I want to break free
Could somebody ever rescue me?
I need to escape; escape this obsession
The hardest thing is fighting addiction
Stuck on a battlefield, this is a war
I’m falling apart; revealing the scars
Alcohol, deadly love, dark passion
I’m crying, raging and battling addiction
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
The smell would hit me like a slap in the face
My daddy was a patient in that place
I would find him sitting in his chair alone
I wished he didn’t live in a nursing home
How I longed to take him home with me
I couldn’t afford to stay with him, you see
He might wander off and I had to make a living
How I hated doing this for he had been so giving
He worked so hard, he had been a good Dad
Providing for the big family he and Mama had
Now Mama had gone on up to heaven
It was up to me, youngest of the seven
I would feel so guilty leaving him there
I was afraid he might think I didn’t care
His mind slipped away to some other place
Most days he didn’t even recognize my face
“I love you daddy,” I would always say
Hoping he would know me that day
He did recognize me one last time
It's a favorite little memory of mine
He looked at me with clear recognition
He patted my arm and asked this question
“Baby, are you still teaching school?”
I broke down and cried like a blubbering fool
On the day he died, I was there with him
I fed him ice and sang to him a favorite hymn
I wish he had known and had felt my touch
Daddy’s ‘baby girl’ misses him so much
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
God bless you Chantel.
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne