O' middle child, dear son of mine, you have always let the others shine
All through the years, you have stood behind
---I want to say, I've noticed you
Your sister's charms, of course, we knew...
And your brother's skills were multitude
But, my quiet child, though your words were few
---I want to say I've noticed you
While people cheered, and guitars were played,
as your siblings sang upon the stage
You cheered them on with no restraint
---but, I want to say I've noticed you
Such wit and charm, a heart of gold,
More generous soul, I've never known
A shoulder you will always lend
---a brother, friend until the end
I love you all, .....of course I do
I have watched you grow, each one of you
My quiet child, you are still the same
---you'll step aside from all acclaim
As parents now, all three of you
I am proud beyond the words I hold
My middle child, I hope you know,
while you've always been a one to sow
a quiet gift to all you've known
---I want to say I've noticed you........
I know first hand the
pain in your heart,it
will be okay,soon you
can make a fresh start.
Your grandson Beal will
be watching over you,and
he knows everyday how
much you love him to.
Sometimes GOD does things
that we don't understand,
but he created your friends
to lend a helping hand.
Reach out to the people
that are here on the soup,
they help through hard times
and are a wonderful group.
There are to many to name
as this you know,
they will take you by the
hand and won't let go.
It will be okay and
soon you will see,
the new joy's in life
and how happy you'll be.
You will get through this it just takes a little time.
Love your poet friend,
Colleen Marie Bono
April 11, 2013
It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids, even after a hard day at work...
baseball games in the big front yard...
cheering them on...
not getting angry when the youngest son
knocked a homer
straight through the living room window
The rose colour of your mouth
stirs something primordial inside of me –
I smile along with you.
Plump little hands reach for my face.
I hold still
while you explore my heart with a feathery touch.
When you are asleep,
I look over the papers of your collage fund.
We could make it
if we would forsake frivolities.
It will be no hardship for me to do so.
I smile contentedly.
The boxer puppy lying at my feet;
its stomach pink and extended:
he ate too greedily
You will grow up together
and share our unconditional love.
The cricket bat,
signed by the national team,
takes pride of place in its brackets on your bedroom wall –
a pale dove blue
(matching the colour of your eyes).
A gift from your dad –
sure that you would follow in his footsteps.
A rainbow of possibilities prostrate at your feet.
I check every now and again
whether you are breathing.
neither a frown upon your smooth face,
nor a care in the world.
Your long, black eyelashes quiver slightly,
as though following a dream –
a dream we all shared:
a dream of boundless expectations …
Exhuming long forgotten memories;
mingling with my fevered tears –
echoing my breaking heart.
They lead you away.
Assaulting the arresting officer
had sealed your fate.
best laid to rest
together with the memories of you.
The sky has lost its colour,
as I step outside the courtroom.
Closer By Chris Aechtner
“If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations”
3 July 2013
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Contest Name Referential
How far can you fall and get back up
How high can you jump
And keep your feet in the sand
To touch grace and fall from within
Next to you I was out of my skin
I missed you yesterday and you leave tomorrow
A life spent in the shadows of lushly tint
Smoke your waves
Exhale the freshness of your menthol scent
Home is what you call shelters that need no defense
You’ll say goodbye
I’ll send again
You won’t reply
Is the appreciation of another’s existence
Is the anticipation of seeing you again
You and I, we’ll cruise the shores
Together we’ll settle with the wind
The joy of a small hut, a lovers den
I’ll wonder why
You’ll send again
I will not reply
"our songs for sale"
note: this lovely poem was presented to my husband and I on the day of our anniversary,
this past November (Thanksgiving weekend).
hope you won't mind if I share...written by my son Scott (we are blessed)
"ONCE UPON A TIME"
It said, as I sat by firelight reading
In the eve of a long, full day.
"He was not the son of a king
She was not the daughter of royalty
But when they were in each other's arms,
He was a prince, she a princess.
It was a small cottage,
Not a castle, no towers, no servants
But there were two who
Adorned the walls, planted the garden
Warmed the rooms,
Created a home.
Some days the storms would blow,
And beat upon the home
That was not fortified with stone.
But as the two held on to each other
The walls held fast,
And indeed grew stronger with every storm.
And together they saw many rainbows.
Along their path, children were born
Three, young and strong
Who played games of their own making
Not by nanny or boarding school master
But by the love that filled their home.
I did not read of captains of battle
Or a princess in the forest
Waiting for a magical kiss.
But I read of heroes,
And they lived happily ever after".....
Walk With Me
I said, "Look at the mess I've made."
He said, "Take my hand and don't be afraid."
I said, "But I feel so ashamed."
He said, "I love you son and you're the reason I came."
I said, "What about those dark days ahead?"
He said, "My love will be nourishment and keep you well fed."
I said, "I'm not brave tell me what to do."
He said, "Believe in me and I'll carry you through."
I said, "Okay Father, teach me to be a man."
He said, "I love you my son now take my hand."
I said, "My soul is Yours for eternity."
He said, "I'm proud of you my son, now walk with me."
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
"As a boy, I believed her to be indestructible....
....then there came a day when my Mother felt so light and frail.
This moment helped me to become a man."
Admiring the frost blossoming
in-between the antique window panes,
for just as snowflakes,
no two blossoms of frost are identical --
A fractalized, crystalline collage
of kaleidoscopic pyramids,
moving in and out of this frozen web
which catches sunlight as prey,
instead of ghastly house flies.
The new shoots of an indoor spider plant
add a whole new level of nature's artistry
by casting shadows of spiders
into the ever-growing icy web.
The play of shadow and light,
invokes a plethora of memories,
including the time when only her eyes
could be seen through breaks in the frosted panes.
Separated from the other features of her face,
they had taken on a whole new meaning altogether.
She wasn't as invincible as formerly believed,
wondering if life had something more to offer;
if she had the strength to make the right choices.
Exactly like a cold winter's day,
filled with so many depictions and details
of chilly death and crisp, brittle branches
swaying in the biting wind and frozen landscape -
all of the time knowing
how power and renewal lurks beneath the surface.
One simply needed the strength to wait it out.
And just as this frost growing
in-between the window panes will melt,
Mother's struggles had also melted away
into a warmer pond filled with lotus flowers and koi,
relishing in the golden years,
possibly wondering if her son still remembered
the unguarded glance shared so many years before.
Her son had been on the outside looking in,
and now, for this frozen moment in time,
he is on the inside, looking out.
Chris D. Aechtner All Rights Reserved
*An older post that has already been entered into a past contest.
Constance's 'Mother' contest