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~
(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.
(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.
(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.
(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.
(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.
‘0 LITTLE WHITE TABLET’
O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
No-one told me, when they introduced me to
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years.
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.
This poem refers to prescribed drugs
I do not know?
Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.
Mama I’m growing Up Now
Mama I’m growing up now, but will you help me for I don’t know how.
I want to know what it’s like to be a little older.
I want to know the feeling of being somewhat bolder.
I want to be able to live my dreams, I need to know if they have any meanings.
I have my fears that I do hide, I want to know how to bring them outside.
I want to know what it’s like to be living on my own.
Living in a house that I can call my own.
I’m not really worried of what is yet to be
For I am growing up now, I’ll take good care of me.
But if the first time I should fail I hope you understand,
For I am still yet learning and I need your helping hand.
I want to do the things that most kids just won’t do
For I myself am different, I want something new.
Mama I’m grown up now but without you I would’nt know how.
I’ve grown a little bolder and my worlds a little colder
Thank you mama for giving me not one but both your shoulders.
I’ve faced my fears, I’ve cried my tears
I’ve lived with pain for many years.
I’ve lived my dreams and found no meaning.
I lay alone in my bed at nigh
Thinking and wondering with an awful fright
I’m thinking of what is yet to be.
I wonder if I can raise the rest of me.
I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
I wrapped all my tears, to see you smile.
you are the best, always by my side.
I tell you my feelings will get you crying,
you must think I’m out of my mind.
You don’t know, what I know,
all the angels let me go.
We were born to teethe and die,
you will grow to be so fine.
Fall in love, feel your softer side,
Remember me when life is kind.
When you go, let me know,
don’t walk away like the world and go.
Life is rough and the world unkind,
fight them down and you will be fine.
The truth of live is a brutal sight,
make no mistakes, you can learn from mine.
You have a strong heart, you are unique
I treasure times when you smile at me.
Live the life, I could not find,
be there for me, when I say goodbye.
One ingredient of the artists is woman
That is why they love their mothers
I love to become an artist
So I will love my mother
She is the precious ingredient of my life
Not less than the love that speaks out itself
She is my womb when I was alone
She is my hug when I am in tears
Now I am old still I love her
I love her, I love her, I love her
I need to be old for me to get young
I realized that in my younger days
I don’t give a damn to loving her
But requested many things as if I don’t care
I love my mother, please forgive me!
I love you so much
Never and never will you leave me?
I am indeed wanted to become an artist
But the real artist is my mother
Never surrendered to hardship
I will stop not to end
Remember I wanted to become an artist
And you are my ingredient!
28 March 2012
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
I do not know?
When I hold your hand
I know its true
your love for me
has truly grew
from a hill to a
your the only one
I can count on
to be there when times
in all your sweet
kisses and hugs, you
have shown me
your love is my treasure
and we can stand strong
through any weather
as turtle doves,
we fly together forever
when I hold your hand
“She was mine” was all he thought
His spark was gone, forever had seemed so long
The gleam in his eye, dulled as days went by
He’d been trying hard to carry on, she was two months gone
He could no longer cry, all life was now, was a lie
His sadness growing deeper, as the world continued to fly by
His girl was gone now, his reason and purpose no longer around
For years he cared, he couldn’t show, but those actions spoke louder than any words
she would’ve known
His poor tired soul began to appear on his face
His heart numb from losing the one love that who with, his life had begun
Now it was his time to start, for in his heart, he knew……
They wouldn’t be far apart.
Dedicated to the memory of my Grandparents
William Lee Neeland Sr. 02/22/27 – 07/10/04
Pauline Sue Neeland 07/27/46 - 12/24/03
with all my love, #2
For nine months
With love and pain
With joy and suffering
In her womb she carried me
A mother she is
And a woman of virtue.
When there was no one, she was the only one
Even left alone, she never leaves me alone
Indeed, she’s a mother
And a woman of virtue.
When toddling, she cared
And still directs when I could run
She is a mother of the child and the adult
In her thoughts are all, even the descendants to come
Many names will I call her; “A mother of all”
And a Woman of Virtue.
I do not know?
Happy Birthday, baby,
This is the first year you would be
Alive and happy
Dwelling here with me…
I would have taken care of you,
Before your early flight
But on that fridged morn
My daytime gave way to night
I know that you’re with Jesus now
You’re not the one grieving any more
You have it made better than I could give
On that bright heavenly shore
You have a better birthday gift
Than I could ever give
You are walking now on streets of gold
Forever you will live
Some how that does not change the fact
About how I miss you so
But still I know I love you
This, I wanted you to know
Enjoy your birthday, now my child
Give Jesus a hug for me
Walk with Him, now let me know some how
That you still are thinking of me….
So happy birthday, baby
Though you are not a baby anymore
You have the best present anyone could give
By walking on that golden shore.
I do not know?
America resides within the heart of all
Who believe in freedom, choice, voice and opportunity
Deny, not, the display of pride within yourself
Or else you’d deny pride in this land of the free
America, more than land, it’s home to you and me
Some dare tread, take arms against and try to squash
All that America ever stood for, which is evident to all
They fear the freedom, strength and all that’s offered
As they know, against us, they would never stand tall
And for all their attempts, America makes them fall
This 9-11, let us not focus on terrorist actions
But, on those Americans lost, that still live in our hearts
Remember and honor them by living the American dream
Exhibiting the ideals and always doing our part
Showing all, America has muscle but lives through its heart
Its your Halloween rave, having your mascaraed
With all your best friends from back in the day
Liz Lauren and Blake and while they're dressed like skanks
I'm on the front line of battle
Howlin like jackle with A real nasty cackle
puttin a razor blade in the sack of Blake's apples
crack in Lauren's snapple
Staddle Liz like mclovin
But I am more like faghole As I babble at her ass
Axe her fast and mash her up like cattle
Sneak back and tackle your dad and put him in shackles
Shove sour patch kids Down your trap and gaggle
Its abominable, so unbelievable
But its inevitable, the end is kissable
I have rattled these kids psyches
squirming like a centipede, cutting them like celery
hear their squeamish screams echo in the streets
as the creepy bells of the chapel ring
I remain a mystery
You'll need nancy drew, and at least 3 of the hardee boys to find what I'm up to
Theres this gloom that looms down in your basement room
Consuming shrooms, enhaling fumes to escape your doom
Witches zoomin by on their brooms makin sonic booms
Quick call scooby doo, but I killed him too
You heard a loud pound cause I cut the fuse so you
Run away to a motel room, assuming your safe
And As you look the other way,
I got my fangs in your veins and stranglin your neck
Too bad you didn't text your friends to tell them who is next
Hmm let me think for a sec. As Hex your boy rex
with an incessant twitch, till he is dead in a ditch
Hang him from bunny man bridge
Yo dude turn the lights on
But there's no flip to switch , I have flipped the script
Its bewitched with no miss to kiss
Exorcist with no priest to dismiss the spirit
So the town clock strikes half past 3
There's one last gas before i must sleep
Or i will crash fast if the light touches me
Put on the mask jack, just like the sixth scream
I need to grasp havoc, till i hear shrills and shrieks
Please back rabbit, these chills aint for teens
As I stick a cherry bomb in your moms exhaust pipe
Run up on you with nine a knife, and the head of your wife
Its useless I'm the nuisance that's abusive yet conducive
To your fear that I am near So close I could whisper in your ear
Smell the shampoo in your hair Wipe the floor with your tears
And as you look up in the mirror
I'm there ready to smear your blood all over the chair
as I stab you with my spear I crush a coors beer then
Leave you re crops there dead, red spread on the floor
But I hear a knock on the door
Are you okay honey? "Yes mommy, just got a cold sore"
Many people dream of having what you share...
Verisimilar love &
Enthusiastic promises of "Death Do Us Part"
Satisfaction of compromised love!
But only few stick together throughout the journey....
This is a one Woman Campaign
To promulgate life
To proclaim His Name
To create a human Life
Newly formed in Heaven
On this New Earth
And She shall do one thing
To give a new birth
For the King
And to me that is such an
And their is one thing
That I would like to say
Honor thy Mother
And that rings' true
To this very day
Fore it it weren't for Mother's
Then their will be no Mother's
To speak of..
And but, by the Grace of God
A Mother is a Mother
Seem that one was born
Just only yesterday
Note: Respect Thy Mother and Thy Father...gf
I do not know?
Thank you mother,
you birthed me,
you nursed me,
you fed and clothed me.
You loved me,
when seems, the word had loathed me.
I'd not want that love in vain.
However this is not your day.
Thank you mother,
for your support,
and your optimistic sheen,
and always has shaped the person whom I am.
But this is not your day.
It belongs to the greeting card companies.
Who've robbed another holiday.
Robbed it of all meaning,
all substance and heart.
Robbed it of it's very soul.
chewed it up and spat it,
till it's obscure meanings long forgot;
faded into history, a mother's not.
Dedicated to my mother, whom I love.
Also dedicated to Julia Ward Howe who invented a holiday meant to end war and poverty. And to
celebrate all families. Who died before her dream could ever be realized.
And...to Anne Jarvis who forced through the holiday, hoping to continue Howe's work and end war
and poverty and create a better world for all, only to see that dream shattered as Greeting Card
companies and greedy conglomerates perverted it's ideals to nothing more then lip service
dedicated to selling cards and candy.
To celebrate some mother's publicly, while other's have their health care raised and their social
security stolen. While single mothers have to risk their health and their lives to barely feed their
This holiday is an abomination. It doesn't celebrate motherhood, it degrades it. Women don't need
to be celebrated nearly as much as they need a good world in which they can better raise their
children. A world in which they can feed their children. This holiday is a Mother's Not and so is this
How often I’ve thought , I’ll just stay in bed...
But that’s for sick folks my mother said
So I’ll just linger a little while...
And let my memories make me smile..
My mother was strong and rather petite.....
And my father so strict...and yet so sweet..
They knew how difficult life could be...
And passed that on to my siblings and me....
As they had experience throughout their life..
With all the usual stress and strife..
And the pair of them taught us all so well....
Though the way we act sometimes you couldn’t tell..
The lessons we learn from our parents you see...
Are what makes us special like you and me..
And as we grow and make our own way...
Leaving our homeland so far away....
Years later returning to the place where we were born...
To scatter their ashes amongst the Rose garden thorn...
Was across the sea we had to go..
The memories were already starting to flow...
As we stood outside of the garden gate....
We heard Mother’s voice, so articulate...
“ tea’s ready “....and Dad said I hope it’s Earl Grey...
It was then we realized this was the day..
As they were gone and you can never go back..
So we must face the fact....
Our mind plays the movies in our head...
So with that in mind .. guess I’d better get out of bed.....
earl grey tea
I Had a Dream
I had a dream. Oh I had a dream.
I sat in a chair in despair thinking
of the love and memory of my mother.
In my dream I built a stairway to heaven with tears to hug her.
Halfway with out a sound or word in the silent skies
an angel appeared upon me.
It was a precious and beautiful site.
Oh! I said could you for me ask God to cross a rose and lilac together
to create a bush with large clusters of white, purple, and pink flowers
and the fragrance of memory
And give it long green stems so it can stand free and gracefully.
Also ask him to it a name, a special name ‘ Kollock ‘
and let it represent never forgotten love and memories.
In my dream God did this for me,
and gave it to my mother as a gift from me
I do not know?
So many things that go around,
Yet in this crowd there is no sound,
The world seams dead and void inside,
And I can’t seem to run and hide.
I hear her screaming out for help,
She gives a final wounded yelp,
She hits the floor and eyes turn black,
Now she knows she can’t turn back.
Those left behind hide up and die,
No one ever wants to cry,
The tears of blood cause too much pain,
Our poisoned hearts are not the same.
As your body dissolves to ash,
The whole world changes in a flash,
No more happiness for us to share,
No more mother to love and care.
Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky on November 13th nineteen thirty five
the youngest of four with only one brother
whose exit from this world from a terminal illness she did not survive!
The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief
practically vanquished as like my existence turned a new leaf!
A recurring abysmal grief stricken state
still consumes my entire being of late
these perpetual tears of sadness seem not to a-bate
since the grim reaper brandished scythe
signature sign of a deadlocked fate!
Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 that third of May
that our dearly beloved mother
fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay
(recounted by sisters who elected to remain on vigil that day)
nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand
brought a (supposed) painless and swift death
to her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray!
This only heir still misses his mom more than plaintive words can spell
with his agonizingly pained heart and soul that rents asunder this psyche pell-mell
no amount of weeping can quiet and quell!
Cathartic for me to give you a posthumous ode
conveyed in an easy to read poetic code
to accept finality & permanent loss only retrievable from nostalgic memories
identified as that childhood home and favorite abode!
Her cremated ashes still remain sealed in the same nondescript box
white, powdery and chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half century plus prior to demise
which beauty, charm and grace quickly caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed to this young flirt and tease of a gal)
inert organic matter now represents sole residual embodiment
reduced to dust and near nothingness
former corporeal being of blood, bone and flesh
weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks on the scale
absence still bears down heavy like some millstone round the neck
per the black hole void created by defeat with Grim Reaper
toward this woman who helped birth and nurse me into manhood
momma’s only grown son still feels ripples of grievous sadness
no matter the years of suppressed anger and rage
in addition to emotional conflicts between us
which invariably wrought unpleasant relationship
and a legacy of discord writ large across the tapestry of my life!
The modern day women of today are abused and tortured.
Not the physical of scars and wounds,
but the mental of intellectual suffocation.
What man can say: I am the bearer of life.
show me your proof and I’ll show you a liar.
What man can step forward and say: I was not born from a woman.
What man can say: I did not spend 9 months in their mother’s womb.
The truth is plain to see.
The hatred for women is bitterly unjust.
We should not simply acknowledge our women,
but understand, respect and love our women
for they are walking sanctities of wisdom and truth.
How can we celebrate life without saluting our wonderful women?
The nurtures of time; past, present and future
and still we choose to cast authority over them.
This general consensus of ownership must stop.
There is nothing weak in acknowledging a female heart.
As a man it is not a crime to say; I love you mother.
I love you sister. I love you wife. I love you friend.
On my behalf, I will respect each and every woman
regardless of if she respects herself.
Yet in time,
I know she will grow to love her own.
Valuing her every curve, acquired intellect,
display of heart, and ounce of spirit.
As a beautiful and insightful woman,
in time she will grow to love herself,
love her eyes and love her soul
Just as I will accordingly do.
For more poetry goodness visit www.checkmyflow.co.uk
I do not know?
I love you for being my husband.
I thank you for all your love.
I thank you for being there,
A special person sent from above.
I thank God for sending you to me,
For giving me a life with you.
And our children he entrusted me.
Your acceptance, guidance and care,
Given so unconditionally.
Together with my love and certainty,
Give us so much to share.
I feel a special bond not there before.
It gets stronger every day.
Making within me such awesome happiness,
My heart longs to soar.
I know that I am not always perfectly undoubting.
We both have our failures and imperfections.
I think, however, our short comings and trials
Build between us stronger connections.
I believe that God has brought us together,
Because each has a lot to offer the other.
You, as the father and husband,
And me, as the wife and mother.
On this day 16 years ago a beautiful baby girl was born.
As I cried they took her away.
My grandmother watching as if nothing were wrong.
Photos came for a brief moment then stopped
She was gone never to be herd from or seen.
It seemed as if she just vanished.
The agencies said her new family had moved.
No forwarding address to be found.
They apologize for the inconvenience.
Trying to convince me not to give up hope.
Hope what is this, something I find hard to have.
Years have come and gone and not a word.
The last photo I reserved she must have been 3 or 4 years old.
My search it still continues today,
but not a trace of her or her family do I see.
On this the anniversary of her birth
I still cry for the loss of my baby girl I bore so long ago.
My name is Paul, a boy of sixteen years
when the Titanic became my icy grave.
To the ocean floor, I drowned with dreams and fears,
like my dad, a fisherman, lost in the waves.
When we boarded the ship, my mother heard cries.
A premonition dismissed with hopes and sighs.
In a half-empty lifeboat, denied a seat,
my destiny to die but not in defeat.
Mother begged for my life then returned to die with me.
Half empty lifeboats floated as the band played a hymm.
Angels descended on mother and son in the cold sea
and carried us to my father in Heaven's bosom.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, April 10, 2012
for My Heart Will Go On and On contest ( Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver)
*A Rispetto and a Quatrain
My sister is one of a kind and I know shes always by my side I know we fight.
and sometime dont get along my sister and I are like a song.
The bond between us will never break she's my best friend
and it will never change I love my sister
Fifty-Seven Years Ago Today
With new dress and suit, flowers, and hair fixed just right
The dreams, plans, and labors of our lives would unite
My brother and his gal stood beside us on the spot
To give witness to the world that we tied the knot
We stood nervous before the preacher at his home
Promised to cling to each other; never to roam
Said “I do” to the questions; gave the preacher his pay
Man and wife; fifty-seven years ago today.
Two thousand seven
Hundred and fifty victims
Murdered, Rest in Peace
My entry into Nathan's 9-11 contest
is deep sorrow piercing the
heart that must weep to release
what the flesh can't overcome.