'Twas our Christmas Eve dinner; we all had sat down
at the table to eat. Grandma couldn’t be found!
We children were fussing; Dad rose to his feet.
shouting, “Where are you, Ma? We’re ready to eat!”
When from the next room we heard such a noise
Jenny squealed, “Santa Claus must have brought toys!”
We then heard a sound like a whimpering pup
saying, “Help. I’ve fallen and cannot get up.”
Grandpa jumped up and then rushed to the door
that led to the bathroom. There on the floor
lay our poor grandma, eyes widened in fear,
looking like she’d got run over by reindeer!
The dresser had fallen. It had her pinned down.
Grandma was wildly flailing around.
More swiftly than Rudolph, we did all we were able.
We unpinned her. Then Mom yelled, “Back to the table!”
Back to the dining room all we kids came
As our mom started to call us by name.
“Davy, Mel, Jenny, Angie, Marie. . .
Get back here now. I’m counting to three!”
Like animals not having eaten all day,
stuck in a cage without getting their way,
we sat at that table our bellies all growling,
and Davy, the baby, by now was howling.
And then finally what did appear?
Dad with our grandpa and grandma so dear!
Supported by both our grandpa and dad,
Grandma was flushed and looking quite bad.
She was dressed in a housecoat trimmed in white lace
and a big purple bruise had now formed on her face.
Mom pulled out a chair helping Grandma to sit,
and then our dad bellowed, “OK, have at it!”
Our mouths how they watered to see the large ham.
“And that isn’t all,” said Mom, “I made lamb!”
Her small pretty mouth was turned up in a grin,
“The food’s getting cold now. Children, dig in.”
Our dad how he laughed as he poured lots of gravy
onto his potatoes and kidded with Davy.
And Grandma sat smiling despite her great fall
while Grandpa gulped spiked nog, not talking at all.
With eyes that seemed bigger than my own belly,
I dished out big spoonfuls of cranberry jelly.
Mom winked and I knew I had nothing to dread.
Her pleasure was in us all being well fed.
I went straight to work at stuffing my face
when suddenly Mom said, “We didn’t say grace!”
We closed our eyes listening to our dad’s prayer.
I peeked but was met by my mom’s warning stare!
Dad finished the prayer with a hearty Amen.
Then we were all grabbing Mom’s fixings again.
When the food had all vanished and our stomachs hurt,
we heard Dad exclaim, “So what’s for dessert?”
For the Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale - Poetry Contest
of Carol Eastman
Ride with me on my time machine to a different time and place
Return with me and let me see if I can put a smile upon your face
To the days of AM radio and the TV was black and white
To lying in a grassy field and counting stars at night
Popcorn and soda in the balcony at a Saturday matinee
Parades led by the High School Band on Decoration Day
Dressing up and going door to door on the night of Halloween
Cigarettes rolled in your shirt, pretending to be James Dean
Pep rallies before the football games, everybody stand and cheer
Going in the woods with your friends at night, sharing a quart of beer
That feeling inside, turning red, when she smiled at you at the dance
Wanting to kiss her goodnight, but you were afraid to take a chance
Playing chase tag at night in the neighborhood, hiding behind a tree
Holding hands with your first steady, so all your friends could see
Medicine Show at the end of town in a giant canvas tent
Saving pennies for a rainy day, fasting on candy for Lent
Going for a Sunday ride with Mom and Dad in the family car
Playing in the yard at night, putting lightning bugs in a jar
Drag racing on that long stretch of road, Chevy was hard to beat
Stealing peaches from a neighbor’s tree, always seemed so sweet
Riding bikes all over town, never knowing the meaning of fear
Identifying cars by their tail lights, make and model and year
News and Stooges at the theatre before the movie starts
Valentine’s day I love you written on tiny candy hearts
Easter bonnets and picking flowers for Mom on Mother’s Day
Opening day at the community pool the last weekend in May
Sock hop in the auditorium, collar up, trying to play it cool
Meeting friends at the usual place, everyday after school
Six for a quarter on the juke box, music that would move your soul
Return with me now to those glory days and the birth of rock and roll.
I wish that I could write
Like my son the poet
I'm just an amateur
And well I know it
I search the site
And there again
He has written something wonderful
With his amazing pen
Wish that I might write
As he has done
I know I am extremely proud
Of my wonderfully talented son
Dedicated to my son Richard poet extraordinaire
I am so glad that all my children are different
I can love you all for different reasons
I need a Mom who's always there
Someone to care,
Who loves to play
Will always stay.
A Mom to mend my broken heart
Give a fresh start,
Who holds my hand
Gives strength to stand.
I need a Mom to find me here
To make it clear,
I'm not alone
Please take me Home!
A Minute Poem
A mother's holiday should be everyday,
To show you the thanks I wish to repay.
A million word poem could never consist,
Of all that you do - a lifetime of lists.
So Ill keep it short - a miniature report.
To convey my gratitude for all your support.
Preparing this thank-you, builds tears in my eyes.
The bulletproof bond we share never dies.
Countless memories we've made as a pair,
Has given me more than I can compare
Your lessons of chivalry I've cherished so dear.
You've molded my heart to love with no fear.
Your lullaby songs that put me to sleep,
Created a herd of infinite sheep.
Happy Mother's Day Mom, I hope you enjoy.
Much love from your son, your grown baby boy.
- Yours Truly
In mind's eye I reminisce, watching children play
of a spring day sitting here, seeing my children play
blessed to see their smiles, when they hit, slid or fell
A happy day begin playing ball, in this story I will tell
A kiss and hug I get, dad please take us to the fair
Seeing the rides, ooh's, awe's echo from our pair
Eating fried dough, peanuts, "Boy! see the games over there"
We're playing with family and friends, as they make a dare
Can't miss any ride that twists, mixes, spins or flys in the air
There's so much to see, ride and play with, in a day at the fair
Hearing "thanks mom and dad" that night, walking to the car
"Stay awake" they say as we move, you know they can't get far
This day all started with thoughts of fun, smiles and laughs
both asleep, with their dreams, today, mom and dad can laugh
Any poem you posted during this month of* APRIL ~except ~ No! No! Bunny poems, or Easter poems..NOR other contest entries.
entered by Tom Larrow
Oh mom I see your blood.
It runs from your nose like a flood.
I cannot run or even hide.
I am screaming inside.
Why is he after me.
I am too little to flee.
I cannot scream or cry loud.
Oh God who am I now.
Where are you mom for I fear.
Oh God, I need you near.
I am so confused.
Why have I been abused.
Mom I see an Angel near.
Now we have nothing to fear.
Why did he do these things to us...
Edward J. Ebbs :(
Mother’s Day depresses me
because the way Mom sees me
when I came home from service
she rarely gave me notice
and labeled me not normal
never was an animal
she always looked down at me
to her I shouldn’t be free
is it some kind abuse?
she was very nice to Deuce
Deuce was her old friend
my life there to end
I feel guilty for having these thoughts
I always knew my life at home rots
Pop was quite a poet,
though his bio wouldn’t show it,
with the exception of this little poem
which I really do feel I owe him.
He was happiest working in the wood,
and did so when ere he could.
That was one of his necessary incomes,
for his five daughters and four sons.
It was then he would sing a song,
Always short and politically wrong.
The rhymes could make us boys smile,
If not but for just a little while.
In the woods he was a self educated master,
He loved it there; peace is what he was after,
Everywhere else, us boys were a bit wary,
His temper trigger was a little hairy.
Brought up roughly, a Canadian farmer’s son,
A machine gunner in the Second Big One,
I never heard those gruesome stories very often,
Only when he allowed his heart to soften.
PTSD and nightmares were his living hell,
complicated with Malaria fevers as well.
With depression a formidable resistance,
He farmed for his family’s existence.
In good moments he would sing poems of an alter life,
Where there was, obviously, no such strife,
Of “when he would go swimmin
With many bull legged wimmin”.
Those feeling good songs rang out loud and gay,
To keep his painful depression at bay.
“Yes ... we have no bannaners,
We have no bannaners today!”
Canadian French was his language norm,
So many of his songs took that form.
I’m sure Mom was his best and biggest fan,
She must have really loved that man.
He had a hard life and his song poems helped him through,
We were often at odds but he did what I could never do.
An unknown hard man with a well hidden poetic heart,
I don’t think he knew it, but Mom did from the start.
For each of his children’s names, he made a French rhyme,
Making the most of poetic license for each of his nine.
They probably weren’t politically correct…
But at least for that one moment,
we .. Each of us ... were his elect.
( Dedicated to the memory of
Rene Francis Dufresne 1917-1998 )
written by Bob Dufresne 6/5/11
Year 1974,75 and 77 was the years for me.
That's when I decided to have just my three.
Those three were give to me by our Lord above.
Since the day they were born they've filled my
heart with joy and love.
When they were born I was in a wheelchair.
Just to have them I knew life was fair.
I was as close to them as a mom could be.
They were my all my wonderful three.
I have two boys and a girl.
With those three lifes been a whirl.
Their all grown-up now with kids of their own.
Now all they do is cry and moan.
They say I'm the best mom and grandmother.
Cause to them I'm like no other.
Entered in Waylee Whitlock's"My children"contest
Gobs of happiness, bundles of joy!
My sister turned out to be a boy
Mom said, “Welcome your little brother!”
She'd been promising me the other
You know! EEEW... a baby sister!
Imagine if I had to kiss her!
Thanks to the stork way up high
If Mom had a girl, I'd probably die!
Sisters don't wrestle or play with guns
They play with dollies, have girlie fun
Glad the way things have turned out
Us guys are buds, there's really no doubt!
I know! I realize they're people too
In fact, some are cute, this is true
But if you're gonna give me my druthers
I would much prefer a baby brother!
The moral is, if you eat your veggies
Your Mom will be happy and never edgy
A contented Mom will usually bear fruit
With a baby boy who'll be cuter than cute!
These are the words of a real little boy
Who won't even try to hide his joy!
He comes right out, it's not a quiz
Boys are superior and that's how it is!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Five thirty, wearily she slides her aching body out of her bed
Fifteen minutes to get herself together and wake his little head
The sun is just peeking over the horizon but they are on the road
Her head's throbbing must stop for coffee to get into mommy mode
Onto the interstate for an hour drive to another big baseball game
Not making big money, no shoe endorsements, not a hint of fame
Her little slugger ties up his cleats and heads out onto the field
Cheering words of encouragement, oh the many smiles it does yield
Whether they win or lose it is always the same, son you played great
He just nods his head with a whatever grin and says what's to eat
Week after week, all through the spring, the routine goes on
Relaxing, yard work, shopping, family parties all foregone
She takes it all in stride staying cool and calm
Just another day in the life of a baseball mom
*Dedicated to all the travel baseball mom's.
You have my utmost respect. Thank you *
Shush little babies don't make a peep
Mommy is tired and needs her sleep
Rhyme Battle Round 6
The gentle breeze upon my face
As you pass by me with all your grace…
You’re my mother that I loved and treasured on earth
You protected and guided me from my birth…
You are no longer with me on this earthly plane
But I know you are here all the same…
MEMORIES OF MOM
The years have passed but memories stay.
My memories of you will never go away.
I'll never forget your dark brown hair.
In cascade curls and a french rolled flair.
Wearing black slacks and a man's white shirt.
Never wore a dress or even a skirt.
She was a good mom and a terrific cook.
Before bedtime she'd read from the good book.
We never had much but mom done her best.
She was never lonely and never had a empty nest.
Our mom loved her children with all she had.
She taught us well cause she was our mom and dad.
Her children love and miss her with all their hearts.
We'll hold our memories from the end to the start.
Teresa Skyles 08-Aug-11
My mom past away and I remain in grief.
Which made it hard to keep my beliefs.
I was only twelve when she died.
People said, “It’ll be ok” but they lied.
Life’s hard without a mom or dad.
That’s the one thing I wish I had.
A lot of people tell me how much they care.
But when in need of a shoulder, no one’s there.
Losing my parents gave me a strong heart.
Now I know God had it planned from the start.
this ones for my mom and dad
i treat them so bad
i hurt them with painful words
i told him he was a waste of my time
it's probably useless
to write you this
i wish i coul hang from the rafters in my home
cause my parents don't want me no more so now i'm alone
all i want is their approval
but the words i say are so brutal
over the years i've caused you and mom to cry many tears
and in your hearts and minds i've bestowed many fears
but don't forget i've cried too
and yes it was not all because of you
but it still doesn't make what we did right
but i have many good choices in sight
you'll always be my mommy
cause for better or for worse you still love me
dad no matter how many blows we throw
i love you that i just wanna let you know
i hate being miserable and having this burning heartache in my soul
i hate the things i did but your love i feel you hid
the blood my wrist shed
and yes theyhave bled
the pain of not being able to come home
all the times we fought on the phone
i don't mean what i say
so here i am tring not to fight another day
my heart is right pleas accept my apology tonight
i may not be the best son
i love you mom and dad
i'm truely am sorry i treated you bad
“You’re such a hypochondriac,”
They say with a smirk
As they roll their eyes
I try to come up with lies…
But they just don’t see
The hypochondriac isn’t me
But that 12 year old child
Who nearly went wild
To see Mom lying in bed
Blood gushing from her head
Yet Mom smiled through her tears,
“I’m fine…don’t worry, my dear.”
It’s that little girl who grew
Not knowing what to do
Believing that it’s no lie
Mommy WAS going to die
MS was the monster
That Mamma couldn’t conquer
“Are you afraid I’m going to die?”
Mamma asked her one day
She couldn’t run away
So she gulped down the tears
As Mamma rocked away her fears
But never said it wasn’t so
Yes, she was going to go
After the broken legs and stiches
The garbled speech and twitches
The wheel chair and near misses
All the lopsided kisses
The choking and pain
The burial in the rain
I look at them and say….
“Yes, the hypochondriac is me
Now will you please set me free.”
Mommy, why do you keep putting that needle in your arm?
Why do you keep putting us at harm?
Mommy why do you keep putting that needle in your leg?
How many times do we have to plead and beg?
Mommy, are we not enough for you to put the drugs down?
Are we not worth being around?
Mommy please, you have to let the drugs go.
We want our old mommy back and all the love you used to show.
Our beautiful mommy who was forever so lively and bright.
Can't be so weak to give up this fight.
Do you want to watch us grow up big and strong?
Do you not realize your teaching us wrong?
Slowly we watch as your slipping away.
All we do is worry more and more everyday.
Mommy, you need to face your addiction, no longer can you run.
You have two children who need you, a daughter and a son.
We are so scared that one day we will find our mommy dead.
With a needle in her arm, lifeless on the bed.
If your not strong enough to do it for us then do it for yourself.
Stop making us worry about your safety and health.
We just want our mommy back, the way she used to be.
Before the drugs took over, a loving caring mommy is what we need.
Mommy, we need you out here with us, helping dad.
We are so sick and tired of being lonely and sad.
Its not fair for daddy to raise us on his own.
So get your act together, get clean and come home.
We hope this time you can truly stay sober.
We hope this time it will finally be all over.
Once again be the loving mother and wife we know you can be.
We miss you so much mommy and hope this time you can stay clean.
Mommy, you are very loved by us but we cant accept the things you choose to do.
You can win this battle mommy, we know you can because we believe in you.
This poem is dedicated to my children: Daunavyn and DayonaLee
I wrote this while being incarcerated at Sarasota County jail. I am a struggling addict trying hard to accomplish my goal and become a recovered addict.
When I took the time to see my addiction through the eyes of my children I finally realized how much it had, is and was affecting them.
By Deb and Dane
“You need to eat real greens.” Mom alarm!
The child went for the ‘ucky Charms.
“What? You're eating sugar transformed!”
They don’t grow that on any farm!”
“You need to eat real greens.” Mom said.
Boyo reached for the Charms instead.
“But Ma. The box says it full of vitamins!”
“Better be! It wasn’t laid by hens!”
“That cereal is nothing but sugar, honey.
Companies sell it to makes lots of money.”
“Then, why’d Dad buy it for the house?
Did you plan to feed it to the mouse?”
“You need to eat garden-fresh food.
You know; been told, I’m in NO mood.”
“PLEASE, Ma! Charms and milk won’t cause harm!
Milk does come from a dairy farm”
“’ucky Charms might be a nice snack,
But meals must be nutrition packed.”
“You eat lots of Charms, zap! It seems.
More vitamins than ‘ucky greens!
Three bowls downed were his tasty meal.
Out like a light, he seemed to reel.
(Sugar shock set in, burnt him out.)
He woke SO sick. Was there a doubt?
“We’re going to the Doctor now!
Mother said shouting "Holy Cow!"
He’ll give you a little pink pill.
To cure ALL your rambunctious ills
(Rushed to the doctor for some help.)
Sick as a
dog was this young whelp.
Dad had to pay for ‘ucky Charms
Boyo paid for not eating FARM!
Corps. got paid, pill and cereal.
Doc. got paid insurance by deal.
Round and round so this story goes.
EAT RIGHT and you'll stop THEIR green flow.