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Epic Son Poems | Epic Poems About Son

These Epic Son poems are examples of Epic poems about Son. These are the best examples of Epic Son poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Narrative | |

He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know

Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | I do not know? | |

Playing BlackJack with the Devil

He lay awaiting spraying cards

Beckoning with his forked tongue

Come here my son lay down your guard

Bet what you like it is only for fun

I started with a bet so small

A face arriving right at my door

The second led only to reveal

An ace of spades I had won my deal

This seems so easy it cant be true

I lay a bigger bet knowing it is due

Alas there came another Jack

He smiled at me as the devil played back

You have won again now bet it hard

You know you can beat me without any cards

Ride your luck as I did against God

And see where it takes so now bet hard

I lay the rest of all I had

Only to find the cards went bad

A five of diamonds shot out loud

Followed by the Queen as she did frown

His card was showing a souless ace

Asking for insurance I felt his embrace

I declined and waited to see with praise

He smiled as the card flopped over ..... a face

Thank you my son for your donation

Once again? He asked with quotation

I told him I have nothing more

He said dont lie you have your soul

If you win this you will be free

With all the riches and endless glee

I will even show you both cards

Double exposure for my disregard

I agreed and bet my soul

He lay both cards for the endless goal

His smile turned to laughter as he knew

His ace in the hole was on its way through

It dropped and so did my soul

I felt it pull out of my body whole

I lay in his chamber with all the rest

As I saw God next me in distress

For even he had bet his best

And lost to the one that he threw to the mess

Copyright © Penn Kname

Details | Free verse | |

My Future Generation

I can act insane
Make me feel worthless

I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation

Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee 

I can act like an
Adult, but I’d 
Prefer to have joy…

Not stress…
That piles upon us in our 
Everyday lives

Being childlike is

A rare beauty – 

No one prizes it…

No one came across it…

In this lifetime…

I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my 
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine

Renew my young heart
Give me the ability 
To kill the old man…

I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified 
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs  
By my future generation

I beg of you – 
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy

I’ll still have pieces of a child in me

And pass it on to my future generation…

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Witnesses To Sinners

I can't hear the words as they come from my mouth
I can't hear the screams as they work their way out
As I write all is seen is a blur and blank moment and
Once recovered sensed the words were written,not 
Even a look to see what was written only to know it
Was there.Sleepless night,taunt  filled faces horde my
Dreams.Have this made me fall so low no longer am I
Am I able to stand on my own to feet.How many times 
Will you make me cry before claiming only to being a 
Witness in a crime,your crime. Putting on that face
Working the crowds with amazing easily,how I hate you
Yes all the thing I think about revolve around you.
How many times have I witness myself wound my self
With your blade? As though under a spell doing as order
Without a cry to the world what made me so diligent ?
But no longer can you be a witness,No longer can I be 
A witness to these crimes that been committed.Be us both
Sinners be us both lovers be that we both be cursed 
We shall witness our sins become whole and the love in
Which we share spread further and further like the flames 
Of hades. May there be peace for sinners in the next world.
We are both witnesses and at the same time 
We are both sinners one day to become consumed by our
Own darkness how far will we fall until that moment comes?
May we be good may we be bad may we fall may we live may 
May we die or carry on we are the Witnesses We are the Sinners
To this world and the next.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

King Of The Fallen

King Of The Fallen

Look upon the king.See his proud stance,his gentle eyes,and his charming smile.Once the prince looked over by and loved by everyone,no one knowing his true self.
See his proud stance,he stands and look down on people.
His gentle eye show nothing more then lies.
Such a caring smiling he uses to massacre thousands.
Let him rule your mind but keep your heart
Let him judge over you but never about you
Let him rain cruelty over but may you remain pure
Look upon my king see his monarchy shatter before his eye's,as the evil he has done catch up to him.His children taken,his wife's broken,and his castle destroyed.
Look at the prince who was loved,look at the king who was feared,looks at the king who is now fallen into despair.
Look upon the king.See his proud stance,his gentle eye and charming smile.
See his proud stance as he looked on down on the weak.
See his gentle eye's,see the lies that spur in them.
See his charming smile,like a wicked prince ready to tangle you up and put your out of your mind..
He has fallen
He is broken
He was taken
He is now in despair
He has ruled your mind,now his heart is gone.
He has judged you,now is being judged for himself of himself.
He has rain cruelty over you,now he is impure and Ingenta.
Look he's kingdom has fell and now the deed's of his injustice has ensnared him.
Look his leg's broken.
Look his eye's have been gouged.
Look his smile has been cut.
Look at his wives they are broken.
Look at they children are taken without words of appease.
And his home is destroy in flames.
Look upon the the fallen king,no tears shall fall from his eye's only the blood from his mouth,and the words of death.
Fare thee well world,this game of cat and mouse,and of death and life.How I enjoyed it to the fullest,but now my home is in fired my children taken my wives broken and my body destroyed.This must be punishment for being the King of the Fallen.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes

Details | Haiku | |

God's Discipline

God's criticism towards our life 
Is like a father-&-son relationship
-- he disciplines us well with peace

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings

Details | Rhyme | |

America Is Being DESTROYED From Within


As sin and perversion often become integrated… So many lives and families are being “disintegrated.” Many are being driven by sin’s temptation force… It’s no wonder much of this country is way “off course.” The morality and values that once made a great nation. Are evaporating…. Leading to a “spiritual separation.” Love, honor, and respect of God… Is often a “thing of the past.” Anything of God seems to be disappearing FAST! God is our only hope! And him alone! Only he can bring healing to our broken homes! He’s the answer to this wounded nation, that bleeds! It’s only God that can meet all of our needs! He’s our provider… The great: “I am!” Won’t you reach out to him? And give him your hand? Why not give him a chance? And allow him in? A brand new life for you… Is waiting to begin! May we allow God’s holiness and love to reach down into our hearts… Asking; “Lord please forgive our sins!” Is a good place to start! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Epic | |

The Centurion

He hated his posting here;
Rome had sent him here as punishment;
He was sure of that;
These people were a stubborn lot; 
He hated them most of all;
Then he met the prisoner.
He was supposed to be some kind of king.

Pilate had interviewed this man;
Now the other guards were mocking him;
They fashioned a crown of thorns for His head;
They forced it upon him;
Blood came pouring down;
Yet the king didn't utter a sound.

The guards stripped the king;
They placed on him a purple robe;
The mockery was intense;
Yet this king was different in some way;
He didn't utter a sound.

Then they began to beat the king;
The centurion simply watched;
This was no ordinary man;
The man simply offered them his back;
Then the centurion heard the man pray;
The man was forgiving his captors!

Pilate had ordered the man to be crucified;
So they led the figure out;
He was now beaten and battered;
Could He even carry the cross;
The centurion wished it was all over;
This prisoner didn't deserve any of this.

The centurion made another man carry the cross;
Soon they topped the hill;
Here they stripped the prisoner;
They laid Him on the cross;
As they drove the nails;
The centurion heard Him pray;
He was forgiving them for killing Him!

The centurion had heard of this prisoner;
He now remembered Him well;
The prisoner claimed to be the Son of God;
He had performed many miracles;
The centurion wished to see one now;
He wished the man would come down from the cross!

The sky around them began to darken;
The centurion watched the man on the cross;
The man looked at the centurion;
"I love you and forgive you",  written in His eyes;
The centurion's heart was breaking inside;
The man on the cross breathed His last.

The earth rattled as an earthquake struck;
Tombs opened and dead men walked;
The centurion was oblivious to it all;
He seen only the dead man on the cross;
His knew now within his heart;
He had crucified the Son of God.

Copyright © Marvin D. Schrebe

Details | Epic | |

All men are Broken

I am not like your earthly father, why do you treat Me like him?
I am an all consuming love 
I am not double-minded; I can’t lie or hurt you with sin,
I created you to be more than what you currently are,
For the father fracture has caused so many of My children to be scared,

All men are broken,
All men were broken,
By their fathers who passed it down to you,
My sons and daughters there is nothing to impossible for me too do,

I am much bigger than anything you face and fear,
I am the Father who has seen every tear,
I am the Father who knows your deepest pain,
I am the Father who will always remain,

Though many fathers meant well they still could never be,
All that I am able to be unto thee,
You’re not your father, you’re not going to be the same,
You were never meant to live with the anxieties of a childhood filled with pain,
So let Me love you, let me in, I am not counting all your sins,
Let Me show you what you have never seen,
For perfect love heals and restores all lost dreams,

I am not your father, please blame me no more,
If you could only see what I have planned for your future; the greatness I have in store,
You would understand, you would forget the past, 
You would forgive your fathers, who didn’t know better and couldn’t fulfill their tasks,

A generation has been created,
That has been jaded and recklessly complicated,
I understand, but take my hand; I am not like a carnal man,
I will show you unconditional love that will never fail,
When things get tough I am the Father who will never bail,

I am not like your father, I have been falsely accused,
I am the father who will never leave your side, disappoint you, or abuse
I have watched you all your life suffer in silence, while hiding behind everything and anything to numb yourself well,
I was there every time you slipped up and every time you fell,

But listen my beloved, I call out to you each day,
Just stay quiet for a moment and you will hear what I want to say…

I am here; you are ever before me, for I carved your name in my hand,
I know how to reach you, for I loved you before you ever reached this land,

A broken child becomes a broken man,
Until he knows his heavenly Father is his biggest fan.
Give Me a chance to show you and you will finally understand
That it is My love that will guide you, just take hold of my hand.

By: Sabina Nicole

Copyright © Sabina Nicole

Details | Epic | |

Statutory Rape 101

Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Pride of the King - from the epic 'The peasant and the prince'

Let not the pain of death enter my body
I the Pharaoh, son of the gods
Here my wife, who is the daughter of the Nile
The daughter of Isis sits beside my throne,
Is she not beautiful?

I live and roam the abode of the gods,
In eternity I stay with the majesties
Of the immortal gods
Mortality has no hold of me
I alone carry the staff of Osiris,
Behold! I judge thy weight of the heart,
With that of the golden feather
Thoth that measures thy heart shall tell me of thy hearts content.
If I find thy heart lighter than the feather;
And find thy honesty,
I shall let you enter the heaven of the gods and goddesses.
If not, than, a beast to devour thee, waits for the dishonest.
Know me by my throne, made of gold
I am cloth with ornaments made of jade and sapphire,
White silk of clothing, with jewels from far away lands.
Anyone that dear look down upon me shall die
And those that despise me, shall fine their homes burned down,
with fires from heaven.

Who am I? I have asked thee
Look at Anubis, the son of Nephthys bringer of death.
Do you await him to bring me great sorrow?
Shall he warp me with a yard of cloth?
Shall I find peace in death and my fate be judge by him?
If so, I have a place among them. 
My afterlife is in paradise, their awaits a bundle of joy
With music of the immortal, with harps, lutes, lyres
And servants to tend to my every need. 

But even if I die, the weight of mine own heart, shall be as light as a feather.
For I know mine own honesty.
As I sail across the sandbank of Apophis,
I have my guide, Ra, the god of the sun to light my path
No monstrous serpent of chaos shall wreck his boat,
The boat in which, I am in.

So, I ask thee, traveler from the west
What is thy business with a god?
Look at my palace, is it not magnificent?
Has is not, the decoration and flowers that surpasses all human designs?
I have built these with rocks
Sands was the foundation of my legacy,
Shall all things compare to that of the passed days?
I carry the burden of my glory, and yes, it is heavy.
But will such foundation as the sand be strong enough to hold against the tide? 

Love is abiding that is true, but only in those who welcomes it.
My love for my beautiful wife, oh! How well have I been treated
With love from her is better than any pleasure a man can have.
Faithful to the gods or my wife? that I know not.

Copyright © LIde Sangtam

Details | Imagism | |

Something good

The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night 
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right, 
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…

Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.  
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …

At the weekend, he used to ask his father 
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…

Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude  was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,                                       
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.

The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard 
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of  the sweets shop , 
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa

Details | Free verse | |

My Grandfathers Dying Wish

See problems they no worry Timothy
He was raised by his Great Grandmother
One day she taught him
Miho you can make life beautiful or ugly
Work hard, find a woman who has a strong back
Beauty fades it doesn’t last long
Now let me tell you 
A woman with a strong back may not be your perfect companion
Times are changing, I think Faith is more important these days
I say okay Grandma, can I have the horachata now that you made me
No hush up! You can have it when I’m finished talking
Timothy come your poor Grandfather wanted you to have this
It is his Journal and I have never read out of it
She hands it to me
I am struck by it’s cover, it is brown and plain
Yet it spoke to me by it’s elegant style
These words were printed on the cover “Blanco Vendetta”
I was drawn and pulled in untill I was covered by the spell
The first page I open too it says “My first Mil Besos”
The Temptess that blew my heart away
I turn to page 33
It says “The story of an Apache Warrior”
There are no rules to an Apache Warrior when it comes to fighting
He says if you are my enemy I don’t care how but I’m gonna kill you
Page 41 is like a fist full of words thrown across the page
Barrio boxing, The protection of the Shield of Faith
Brokenhearted for my careless speech has left her heartbroken
Strengthened by Love “Amor”
Nourished by the sunshine in her hand
There is healing in its beams
Blessed by her presence Del Dios I am Greatful
I’m like Grandpa what did you say wrong
Then these words come to me
Give her your full attention when she speaks to you
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
So I close it and my finger brushes a bookmark
It’s the Last page
It says To: “Timothy my son who is as mighty as an army”
I Thank you for the Greatest Gift
For the Greatest Gifts are as small as your small hand that touched me
I plant these seeds and they will take root and grow because you are good ground
Timothy let me say That without you I would of never found my Faith in GOD
Listen for it is your Grandfather who is dead and speechless
Timothy you see the good in everything
And I know you will understand my words clearly
If a man gives you his word
Promise me not to plan your future on it
And if you give your word my son
Do everything in your Power to fulfill it
AND NEVER Promise more than you can deliver 
For it is better to put out more than you promised
Everyman is considered unwise when he appears foolish
I wish I could give you some insight about women
But your Great Grandmother may help you better than I can
But never timothy, Never be quick to fall in Love 
Or give your heart to a woman
Listen carefully to her words when she speaks to you
Cherish Her give her your full undue attention 
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
Love your neighbors as yourself
And do not strive against another man
If he has done nothing wrong to offend you
AS much as it is possible live peacefully with all men
And it is okay for you to speak these things with your Great Grandmother
She is a very wise and God-fearing woman
Amor take the greatest care of her, I Love you Son
Timothy when the time comes to avenge my death
Hit harder then you ever have before
But not in a Duel son, not like an open Vendetta
Marry his daughter Maria
The one who is pretty and Two years younger than you
Oh! He will suffer greatly!
And it will kill him to know that I chose this way to repay him
And remember son to be ready to fight any man at the drop of a hat

Copyright © Timothy Jacks

Details | Free verse | |

Thanksgiving Family Tradition

My sons eyes opened wide when I pulled on the slide
On the airplanes opening door partition
I had took the time without being sublime
To explain the Reith Family's Thanksgiving tradition 
Maybe he had thought it pure jest his bulging eyes processed
As his parachute opened He wore a look of derision
His body had spun His look registered stunned, 
Like this was some kind of unreasonable decision
It was expected of the youngest born before Thanksgiving morn
To bring back from the nearest forest 
A bird
After a mighty and fierce war With piles of blood spilled galore 
He registered a look that I mistook 
As if my demands were patently absurd
After the last desperate howl of the game but defeated fowl 
He would drag the beast back to where we were living 
And as hard as he was able slam it down on the dinner table
And holler loudly, 
"To all a  Happy Thanksgiving"!

Copyright © Donald Reith

Details | Epic | |

Young Cronus


My father decided he wanted his children		
buried, and left for dead.
But my mother, Gaea, both fair and true,
spared her children instead.
So I met with my selfish father,
where, by Gaea, we both were led,
and, holding the sickle she gave me,
this is what I said:

"Hello, dearest father.
I'm glad that you came. After years without you, 		
I know how you feel about us.				
I just hope you know:  We feel the same about you."

"But we are not here to argue.
I came here to say good bye."
He knew farewells were in order,
but he did not yet, know why.
I explained our situation,
as my siblings stood idly by,
saying, "If you don't want to have children,
you cannot be swayed, so I won't even try.
But its too late to go back now.
You cannot erase my family and I.
So that leaves us only one option,
and that's why I'm saying goodbye."

"Goodbye, worthless father.
I'm glad that you came.  Now pay what is due. 			
We know how you feel about us,
and now you know how we feel about you."

He regretted the seeds he had sewn,
so, in charity, I reaped his remorse.
I swung my sickle pure and precise,
with such fervent and furious force;
His blood was late to react to the wound,
and that which was lost by means of divorce,
found it's new home in the deep, dark, blue ocean-
unable to ever return to it's source.

	Together with most of my brothers and sisters,
	there seemed to be no better fit
	than to send him away, as he would have sent us;
	to the bottomless Tartarus pit.

"Goodbye, worthless father.
I'm glad that you came, and you paid what was due.
We knew how you felt about all of us,
so we showed you just how we all feel about you." 	

"Farewell forever, father.
I'm glad that you're gone, and I'll never atone.		
Know that your fear was what you created,
as I take my seat in what once was your throne."

Copyright © John Taylor

Details | Rhyme | |

Go Fly A Kite

One day I was really busy with chores as my son was sitting all around.
Not helping, he was driving me crazy as he got in the way, in leaps and bounds. 
Every few seconds he was asking what to do, and acting, oh so bored.
His whining and irritation carried on, as all my suggestions, he deplored.
In a moment of weakness, I told him to go fly a kite high up in the blue…
Well, we all know how karma has its way, and comes around so true…

He found a kite and sailed it with a kid with wilder views, outdoors.
Sure enough, trouble began as a girl in tears came running to my door.
She was begging me to save her froggy friend, the one she so adored.
For he was indeed taking a trip to worldly heights, as that kite soared.
Panicked, thoughts of a little broken froggie now sailed thru my mind.
And PETA knocking down my door was of course not far behind.

Chores forgotten, and with eyes full of horror I raced out the door.
Low and behold a kite that never could seem to get off the ground, before… 
Was soaring at 200 feet where it continued to climb and soar, some more.
I figured my sons real want, had been to get attention from his Mom, for sure.
And he had won as we were together, as we tried to get that froggy to our side.
But he kept telling me the froggy had, himself, jumped twice on the kite, to ride.

But of course I didn’t believe him as we fought for froggy’s life.
After an hour of swoops and dives while praying for the best, amid the strife.…
Finally he was settled in a tree. But was the little guy happy? Did you guess?
No siree! No way! For when the kite took off again, I must confess…
With a leap of faith… he was again riding that kite as it shot up like an arrow.
And my son told me SEEEE I told you he really wanted to go…

As I reeled him quickly in, I ate a little crow, for not believing in him, before.
As we brought the froggy back down…I explained he didn’t want to soar… 
But no matter what he wanted… he must not let him, ever sail again…
For my son was old enough to now understood the danger he’d been in.
I told him it was his responsibility to protect and pay attention to his little friend.
Instead give him love and attention, and to always be kind to him.

Dedicated to my Hubby always encouraging me on this site. PS: This is fictional.

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |

Talk to your Grandparents

There's something important I would like to stress,
as a piece of advice, from the top of my head.
It might sound small now, but nevertheless,
one day when you've grown up, it will make sense;
Talk to your Grandparents.

Ask them a question, another and more.
Ask them what this world was like before.
Inquire of Life, Love and of marriage.
They've been there, they've lived it, and would love to share it.
They'll talk to you gladly, if you lend an ear.
They may make your day, and you'll make their year.
It will be like discovering the best long-lost friends,
if you talk to your Grandparents.

There's something important I would like to say;
Visit, or phone, do it now, and today.
I promise the greatest of disappointments,
is time passing by when you don't know it went.
So don't miss this chance, before it's been spent,
to talk to your Grandparents.

Copyright © David Dowling

Details | Rhyme | |

The Thread That Binds

A little boy and an ant became great friends one day. 
But how to live drew them apart, and this is how they ran astray:

In the Ant’s heart was strict authority and constant work each day.
Why wasn’t the boy following someone, collecting for the food array?
The ant would always build everything in exactly the same proven way.
The anthill was underground and protected them perfectly every day.
Not adding to the hive was a crime, no one would ever think to display.
He knew every thing would be perfect, if everyone did their job and obeyed.

But the boy wanted to build bridges and trestles, just like his Dad, each day.
All of them out in the open, none of them under ground or hidden away.
And inventiveness came with the notice, of new and exciting things in daily play.
His life was really cool, not boring, as standing in a line would convey.
He’d invent, and ponder, and build in exciting, new ways, to fit each new byway.
Quick minded, and resilient he’d build, many fascinating and unique causeways.

The boy and the ant eventually went away, not happy with how the other lived.
They thought the other shortsighted and scorned, at what the other could give.
But they went away without realizing, how very similar were their lives.
For each would spend their time endeavoring to help others with their drive.
But understanding is a harder concept than building a bridge or storing food.
It takes a true gift to see the world as others do…

The moral to this story is really quite easy for all to see…
You can’t expect others to live their lives the way you want them to be.
Here, each was adding to their different world, only they could see.
While one was building for a smaller, singular hive…
The other was building for the hive of mankind.

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Epic | |

My Very Own Seeds

My time keeps ticking/ Fresh outta mind prison/ I still have a hard time trying to listen/
 I keep on walking yet I keep on tripping/ The pain in my brain heart thickens/ 
Redemption for change Im still missing/ 

Im still on the reservation/ Dont any of my own people see the alcoholic devestation?/
 More self destruction than self creation/ Addicted alcholism among our own we keep making/ Young hearts and souls everyday we be breaking/ Most of us young souls around here are rarely forgiven because we are to busy been forsaken/
This is my own mind made prison astrology/ Im hard like a rock involved in geology/
 Dont any of my people understand this poverished prison geolgraphy/ 
Our destruction can be seen in NAT GEO, dont you people see it in the photography/
 Time is no joke nor is it alive yet somehow it can still bleed/ 
Im still out of prison yet in my mind it still doesn't feel like I have been set free/
 I know my out out but I dont have the keys/ In or out it still remains hard just to be me/
 Everything now days in life cost a fee/ Its not my culture its the American Greed/
 I guess now days I gotta leave a trail, I gotta PLANT MY VERY OWN SEEDS......

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill

Details | Epic | |

The Outcast

I heard their call in the far land
But I will not respond
Their deeds I will not look at before rising
Their accusations and murmurs however whack me in the face
And my tears become unstoppable
Is it my fault that I know not my father?
A first son born into a royal home
But today I walk among our people as an outcast
I am a stranger
With no father’s blessing or a mother’s love
Is it my fault I come by night?
To the home of my father
I come by night because I am ashamed
Ashamed because I am disowned
Disowned because I am despised
Despised because I am abused
It is not my fault I know not my mother’s prime mate

When I walk among our people I am teased
Teased because I have no father’s blessing
They toot all day, enquiring
‘’But where is his father?’’
Answers always arrive at my door post
‘’My father is dead and left me with no blessings’’
But I know he lives somewhere in the next village

Papa, come and shower your blessings on me
As a child is born and loved
Papa, come and kiss me
As a child is accepted by his own people
For in your absence
I was humiliated, lacerated and castigated by your own people

How many sleepless night I have encountered
When they say there goes the outcast
But papa, come and shower your blessings on me
As a child is born and loved
Papa, come and kiss me
As a child is accepted by his own people
For I am your child and a son of this village

When the ceremony has come
For the sons to recount their father’s achievement
And pride themselves with their father’s glories
Tears filled my eyes
For my face drenched in pool of tears
And my mind enquire
‘’Where is your father’s glory’’
And how should I know
I am an out cast
Hated and despised by his own people
Like a stranger
Like an uninvited guest
Papa, come and wipe the tears on my face
For your arm is all I crave for.                                  
                                                                                                                                               Nii- Ayi Solomon

Copyright © Nii-Ayi Solomon

Details | Free verse | |

This Is War

Bring the rain! It might 
be wet but it wont 
dampen my spirits!

Bring the blazing sun! 
It might burn me but it 
wont dry me out!

Bring the strong winds! 
They might blow me to 
and fro but they wont and 
I repeat they wont stop 
me getting where Im 

Try me! Test me! I might 
not be battle tough?
But my spirit is built to 
out live life's war.

Copyright © siza sibiya

Details | Free verse | |


Then Cronus, son of Heaven and Earth
    accepted steel    and cut the twain
Dead Earth descended low in sterile regions
    of the sundr'd Soul
And a cry went up from mortal'd man -
    "Great one    what hast thou done to us?"
A part of time is cut in twain
    repeating o'er and o'er the strain
And A begat him B    and B begat him C,
    and on    and on
The boredom of the turning ball    the reaching out
    the anguish'd call -
"Great Cronus    Son of Heav'n and Earth
    why hast thou done this thing to us?"l

Copyright © daver austin

Details | Free verse | |

From the Fiery Pits of Hell to My Glorious Home in Heaven

It started when I was young.
I chose to take a walk on the wild side.
I drove my parents insane with my deeds.
I pushed everything good away.
I was bad, evil to the core.
Lying, stealing and cheating were all I knew.
Then the drugs and sex overtook me.
Riding on the slippery slope to Hell.
Satan had my heart, mind, body and soul.
He wouldn’t let me go.
I didn’t want him to.
I wanted my life of misery.
It was good to me.
I fell hard into his snare.
I really felt that was where I belonged.
It was a place to call home.
All my friends egged me on.
As I played games with the Devil.
I drew closer and closer to him.
Through Tarot and the Occult. 
Witchcraft, casting spells.
It was so intense.
I never wanted my ride to end.
I was on top of the world.
Living in the fiery pits of Hell.

He reached down to where I was.
He took my hand and pulled me out of the muck.
He saved me.
Showed me a new way of life.
No more lying, stealing or cheating.
The need for drugs was gone.
I was taught how sex could be beautiful and pure.
I was free of Satan’s grasp.
He no longer had control over me.
My heart, mind, body and soul now belong to another.
He loves me.
In spite of the terrible things I’ve done, he really loves me.
He’s forgiven me.
Can you believe that?
Sent His Son to die for ME!
It was on a cross on a hill far away.
The Father couldn’t even watch as His Son paid the price for me.
All for Me!
Now my sins are all forgiven.
The Devil’s hold on me broken.
I am free!
Free to have faith, to hope and to love.
The best news of all is that the Son is coming back for me!
Right now, this very second, He’s working on my place.
My glorious home in Heaven!

Copyright © Karen Cummings

Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp

Copyright © Justin Robbins

Details | Epic | |


Mary,Miriam by her hebrew name,
Jesus' mum,her well known claim to fame;
A young maiden of reticence and tact,
Her tale ,she sang out ,in  Magnificat;
Fled to Egypt to save her son,
Arranged his bar mtizvah, & circumcision done;
Heard & saw many things from the start,
Keeping them secret in her heart;
Remembered by her son ,in her greatest loss,
By these words, uttered from the cross.

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Epic | |


All the way to the hospital
I felt  your eagerness for life,
Your Impatience 
between contractions
For the show to go on,
Months in the preparation
This was your debut,
A final push 
The curtains opened, 
And there in the spot light
A star was born,
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!
I boasted to a fervent audience
Took praise  for the choreography
(Though the moves were yours alone.)
You did not notice
 in the theater
The one empty seat 
That I could not fill,
The void that would grow
As your needs grew,
Ignorant of the absence 
you saw Past that darkness
to my beaming face.
learning your new steps
my praise was enough
but I would repeat it
 to fill the space, 
Now my leading man
the space is harder to hide,
that utter lack of attention, 
That first Christmas play 
And that damned empty seat 
not reserved
but rejected !
you played the part of yourself
my wise man
You did  not seem to mind.
And every mile stone you pass 
You look to me,
Your first words
Your first grazed knee
Your second performance
In the theater,
(just a small routine)
but there besides me
that damned lack 
like dark shadow over a full moon,
he should have been there then
to see your comeback,
your perfect production
As I held you with the strength 
of two.
Inquisitive now
You  question me
About the missing piece
in your jigsaw
puzzled  by the great blank
the incompleteness of the picture, 
If I could put it together 
for you,
if I had the answers,
If I could tell you why,
I am all I can offer 
And I am sorry for that,
I am sorry for these two hands
That should be four
I am sorry  I can not tell you  more,
I am sorry for the empty seat
That grows more obvious
That I can't remove or replace,
But I promise you this
There will be 
Only one vacant space,
I will love you,  utterly,
I will love you
And at every performance
All the roles
You chose to play in life
I will be there
Proud, applauding twice.

Copyright © Rose Pace

Details | Elegy | |

Silent Prayer for her Son

Her words had meant a thousand meanings but still i felt no self healing
for i had hurt her, done her wrong, called her a slave and nothing beyond
she was african but i be white, does that make us different
to see through the eyes of life and feel the nature hell bent

So many days had i been white, to insult the african woman who worked so hard
her skin, dry from the planting seasons, her hair so ratted from the water loss outside
but that same night i had called her worthless and slave she bowed her head
and i as well for it was her last wish, and that made it sacred

"Dear Lord" she said as she began her prayer and her eyes filled with tears
her silent stature, blissed with love and pure confinement, shone though
she was african but i be white, does that make us not afraid to die
to fear the darkness of the night and worship all who makes light no questions no why

"May all who recieve thy lord's love, cry to the bloodshed moon
for if man and woman be forgotten the balance of evil and good
will perish and i have seen this for my eyes turned blind by work
but here i sit with the same girl who did so and wish her no harm"

To stand up felt wrong but as she did so i followed out into the pasture
looking about i noticed the cows this african had milked 'um so many
but she was confident and bent down to the dirt that had one blue rose
i bent also not knowing if what i did was because i felt anything that arose

"And dear lord let her memories have soem of my son's 
let the very feet he walked with be hers for i know they were strong
fast and smart he was but none know of he except me
but this girl right here will now know of his eternity"

And with that silent prayer sent to the heavens, i too began to cry
our shoulders shaked and our heads bobbed as the night engulfed us once more
she be african but i be white, does that make us sisters
yes, for we have both suffered and lost, loved and cherished, stood and cowered, worked till 
death with blisters

Copyright © Faire Lucas

Details | Epic | |

The Caliph's Son

Heading to a cauldron in the dry sea of sands
Far afield the Sahara shores devoid of life
With an array of dexterous army riding further North
Our horses neighs as honed swords beholds Amir al-Mu'mini's hands
Death on battlefield is an honourary worth
Even the treasures of war fuels this sweet strife 
To bring back silvers, gold, and pleasuring flesh
As a "Missing-Captured" for my already bloated chambers
And the crown will yield more cowries if Allah blesses
The throne, to rax few shells to the proselytes or sheik in the madrasas
Who barely tattles my fate but extols me greatly

The fogged dust on our tarsals censored vision in the brown mist
And the day mocked our sights
Yet we fought with fallen numbers till the sun left the east
To the west with blunt swords clanging defeat
While the crescent moon and rayed star decked the night
Our feral horses snorted as the numbers of our enemies diminishes
From thousands to hundreds and then tens till they are no more
Then rode us to the oasis under the night's eyes
The wind sang victorious song for us while we quench our thirst
Even when water taste like sand as we drink there was plenty to pour
In our jars for the next few day's ablution 

Our flintlock muskets hug straight at our back
As we rode our horses with our prisoners of war
Tied with our turbans to a caravan camel
Along with ostriches, ivories, kolanuts and salts
To a waiting parade while my horsemen brandished their swords 
It excited the maidens who peeped under a parasol
Their breast dangles like ripe mangos in a tree.
My father rode to me with his horsemen chanting the greatness of God
He was Clad in an ostrich's feather in his turban 
He embraced me and the trumpet went amok with melodious sounds
These I've always desired - a titular prince
Worthy of all admiration in the whole of the five emirates

Copyright © Timothy-Paker Nwaorgu

Details | Cowboy | |

'The Cowboy On The Battlefield ... ' (Cowboy Poem # 12)

Young Cowboy On The Battlefield
Remembered His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
Her Voice Echoed, As He Heard …

Rapid-Fire and Revolution
Missiles, Right and Left
Bomb-Blasts and Confusion
… and Silent Tears, He’s Wept

… Every Day, A Minefield
Every Night, A Raid
Every Moment, A Terror
Trying to Make Him Afraid …

Any Second, A Horror
Of A Buddy, Laid To Rest
Every New Tomorrow
Wondering, What’s Next ?

The Cowboy On The Battlefield
Vigilant and Brave
Stood Ramrod Tall and Terse …
Looking At Her Grave …

‘Just Make It Home, Son … ‘
… Echoed Thru His Brain
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
… Echoed Thru The Rain

And Just Before She Was Laid To Rest
She Said, ‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
And With Those Last Words, She Blessed,
And Said, ‘I’ll Be Waiting, When You Come …’

                    * * * *

… Old Cowboy, On The Battlefield
Remembers His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son … 
… and We’ll Celebrate Our Return …

Of  Note:  In The Words Of A Lady Rocker,
Pat Benatar:   ‘Love Is A Battlefield’
(but I Say, 'Life Is A Battlefield'

Copyright © MoonBee Canady