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~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
I sometimes feel a unique vibration within
my own ears. My baby’s crying, calling from beneath his quilted,
baby-blues. His sobs rustle the warm sheath of home.
Before my mind reacts, my body is up, hastily tip-toeing
into the nightlight’s calming glow of a cow jumping over the moon.
Outside a soggy, spring night splatters under streetlights
like urban art. A steady rhythm of flowing rain
beats down on puddled pavements. My baby’s cries
reverberate as they reach that instinctual part of me,
somewhere deep within my diaphragm and through my heart.
A mother’s astute ears know the subtle variations of her own
children’s breath in sleep…I hurry to the shadows of my baby’s crib
to find him curled up, eyes still closed; little whimpers
and groans escape from his open lips…a bad dream, I realize.
I gently rub his back, shushing away all that disturbs his peace,
and I wonder about a child’s impressionable mind…
what intrusions of an innocent day could bring a bellowed anguish
to the sweet dreams of a carefree boy not yet two?
I listen to him tumble in and out of his fear until his breath is a tranquil hum…
only then, do I hear the music of an early morning’s falling rain.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Behind your closet door,
a monster, you decide,
has moved the toys aside
to snooze upon the floor.
So near you'll hear him snore
you fear, from there inside.
So I, this very night,
when certain you have been
kissed on your cherry chin
and loved with all my might,
in just the gentle light
the moon and stars let in,
will hold you safe and tight
until your dreams begin...
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
I dreamt my mother mourned a broken doll,
porcelain, sad brown eyes, and five feet tall.
Entombed it in the finest place she could,
a cottage encircled by sunlit wood.
She danced a silent waltz with it, keening,
encouraging life in the wretched thing.
And it mended as she was worn away.
She did not hear when warned of her decay.
I was left a pristine porcelain doll,
and a broken mother in its enthrall.
Copyright © Brittany Reynolds | Year Posted 2012
Lying on my back,
the warm sun blanketing,
I watched the cloud stacks drift,
breezily blown across the bluest skies,
imagining, dreaming . . .
Dangling from my lips,
sweet honeysuckle straws dripped nectar candy,
delicious extract for flavoring dreams,
visions of the joys to come
when I was older grown,
reveries of life and love
and children of my own.
Beneath the apple tree,
in spring pink blossom carpeted,
I laid out the charming rooms
that framed a happy home.
The hollyhocks lent their blooms
for babies hankie-swaddled
and clothed in petal gowns of white and pink.
My flower-children, plump and fragrant skinned,
rocked in cradles strung between the branches,
were lulled to sleep with tender lullabies.
The happy days of childhood passed,
and I was suddenly grown
with tiny babies of my own,
sweeter far than any flower known.
The kisses that I gave to them
were answered, returned to me,
from lips like rose buds formed
perfumed with baby breaths, fragrant and warm.
The childhood dream that I held dear
I treasured year after year
until I found it realized,
reflected in my babies' eyes.
August 16, 2015
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Breezes of a summer night,
gently blew into my open
bedroom window as i
laid there so restless and
desperately trying to bring
sleep to my weary soul.
Eyes closing, sending me to
a land i once walked,
places where i lived,
peace and contentment,
flooded my soul as,
i saw my mother's smiling
face. of her telling me,
how she loved and missed me,
hoping i was getting along ok,
feeling of joy swept me away,
as a sun beam touched my face,
to a most dear and beautiful day,
felt better than i had in years,
knowing life had more things in store
for me, that i needed to move on.
Copyright © James Foulk | Year Posted 2011
Dear God, how did You sleep.
I had a dream and it made me weep.
Did You see it, it was so real.
I think it might even help me heal.
Anyway that dream last night
sure was kind of cool.
Except for the times
I acted the fool.
I was a whole lot younger
then I am now.
I was talking with my mom
and I was wondering how?
We sat at the kitchen table
and she had on that grin.
The one that always told me.
I know where you've been.
I could talk to her
about anything I ever did.
Not only when I grew up
But since I was a little kid.
She was the only one
on this whole entire earth.
Who made me feel like I belonged.
Who gave me a sense of worth.
We talked for hours.
We laughed and we cried.
I didn't leave the table
till the day that she died.
It was a roller coaster ride
of every high and low I could feel.
Then Lord You got out the projector
and then You put on the reel.
We watched home movies
and most of it was good.
You would fast forward
those parts that you should.
There was this one scene
where Jesus had a part.
Remember when I asked for Him
to come into my heart?
On a scale of 1 to 10
I would give it a ten.
But there was this one time
I don't remember when??
When I asked for Jesus to come into my heart
He walked right in like He belonged.
But what I didn't know then
was that He walked in with my mom.
Copyright © Allan Granstrom | Year Posted 2009
Every Child Has a Dream…
They want to be a “grown up”…
They want to get married like mommy and daddy did…
Become a “mommy” or “daddy” as a young child would say…
Become a doctor, firefighter, or ballerina…
They want to be like mommy and daddy…
They want to marry their mommies or daddies…
Become the president…
Become older, (like their big sister or brother)…
They want to live and see the world!
Every Child Wants to Be Loved…
Not every child does…
Not every child has a mommy and daddy…
Every child wants love…
Every child deserves love…
Not every child gets love…
Not every child gets a chance to live the life they want…
Every child knows what love is….
Every child has someone out there that would love them…
Not every child knows there is someone that would give them the love they deserve…
Every child has dream…
Every child wants to be loved…
Copyright © Emily Kroeger | Year Posted 2010
Let another sun set,
Let another flower wilt,
Let another autumn cast its gloom,
Let another tear role,
As ye part, and bid
The final adieu.
St. Stephen’s college
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
It's not easy to live with every day problems,
Especially when someone expects you to solve them,
The minute that trouble has raised up it's head,
And balance the budget and make home made bread;
And making and keeping appointments and errands,
While setting a shining example as parents.
Sometimes I just wish I could go back to bed,
And dream a sweet dream and wake up instead,
To find I can take a day off to relax,
Perhaps read a book and not feel so taxed;
'Cause the house work will be there tomorrow for sure,
And I don't have to worry, my job is secure.
Who'd want all the worry I have all the time?
It's no bed of roses, no sweet dream sublime;
For I am a homemaker, nanny and nurse;
The one they all turn to for better or worse.
This is my castle and I am it's queen,
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
(It's the most thankless job in the world --- or is it.)
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex
Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013
Here I sit, uncertain of what lies ahead.
I’m still wondering how my family will be fed.
I once had a job that provided a sense of “security.”
Now I don’t… And I have a lot of uncertainty!
I have unpaid bills, and I’m not sure what to do.
I’ve asked for help. But not sure who to turn to!
I get discouraged, and feel life “pulling me down.”
I’ve tried just about every job that’s in town.
The dreams I had, have been shattered and smashed.
At times, I feel like I’m just “a piece of trash.”
My wife tried to support me, the best that she can.
But she doesn’t know me… Or even understands!
Dear Jesus… You’re the only left that I haven’t tried.
There’s been many nights I laid awake and cried!
I read in the Bible, where your love for me is real!
When I call on your name... There’s a love I can feel!
Whatever happens, please help me Lord, to trust you!
Whatever tomorrow holds, may I still love you!
I know that you’re a foundation, that I can stand on!
Jesus is a friend! That I can always depend on!
Jesus, if I lose everything that I have or that I hold on to...
My I always remember your faithfulness
and never forget you!
Here I stand… With my burdens lifted from me!
It’s because of Jesus! And how much he loves me!
I praise HIS name! And lift my hands to the sky!
He’s in control now! I don’t have to ask the reason why!
Jesus… Please take control of my worries and desires!
Above all of my problems, I lift your name up higher!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
I dream in tornado,
blade of pulsing
Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2015
As I lay here silence reigns
I toss and turn trying to sleep
your faces as always come to mind
from my eyes tears do seep
i hope you are sleeping peacefully
dreams making you smile in gentle ways
instead of counting sheep tonight
i am praying counting the days
I shall see you soon I know there will be
hugs and kisses so long overdue
i hope you know Im trying my best
I promise you
as long as I continue breathing
if possible after my last breath
by your side I shall stay
in my life and after my death
you are always in my heart
forever on my mind
my blood is yours also
eternally woven to bind
peace be yours tonight my angels
God I have been patient and true
keep them safe until I see them again
i believe and trust in you
so as you doze off to sleep tonight
in our dreams we shall meet
hugs and kisses and i love yous
dreaming i will be complete
Copyright © Melisa Karpinske | Year Posted 2014
I used to walk in dark places and know that I was safe.
Because I knew that I loved you.
I have abused my brothers and sisters.
I have contaminated your purity with murder.
I have raped your daughters.
I have kidnapped your children.
I have brought your blessed bosom to the brink of destruction.
And now, even when I walk in daylight I do not feel safe.
For now I am aware of what I have been to you.
Worse than a prodigal, I have endeavored to exploit the very mother who nurtures me.
And now that I have worsened whatever imbalance was in you before I arrived,
I endeavor to flee you like a coward through the grace of an oblivious savior.
I have dreamed a dream of water.
I have dreamed a dream of living water.
And in this dream Jesus, my Savior, told me that he was not oblivious.
And in this dream Jesus told me that he was fully aware of my crimes against you.
I have dreamed a dream of fire.
I have dreamed a dream of unquenchable fire.
And in this dream Jesus reminded me that I was sent here to heal you as you taught me of manhood.
And in this dream Jesus told me that if I could not love you, my mother, who I could see, then how could I love my Father in heaven who I could not.
I have dreamed a dream of air.
I have dreamed a dream of whirlwinds.
And in this dream I breathed in the breath of forgiveness and I realized that it was not too late for us.
I have dreamed a dream of earth.
And in this dream, Mother Earth, I see you and us together, fighting for our freedom.
Fighting against the delusion that our fates are not eternally intertwined.
Please forgive us.
For true, we have betrayed you.
But it is not too late.
I promise you that as sure as my savior is in heaven we are going to make it.
I present myself to you as a living witness.
The Lord has not forsaken us.
For within our DNA is the secret to your healing and the end of our insanity.
Thank you for loving and protecting me, even as I raped and wounded you.
And now it is my turn.
“In the name of Jesus, the earth and all of the earth’s inhabitants are one mind, heart, and body. In the name of Jesus, we are one person, one planet, and one purpose. In the name of Jesus, the lion will soon lay down with the lamb and this beautiful sound, this sound of the sacred Gaia will know harmony!!”
Copyright © Woodrow Lucas | Year Posted 2011
Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle
It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die
She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward
The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true
Next: My Story Telling, Who is this Princess
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
It's like a weight lifted off of my heart;
I am no longer torn apart.
Thank God you are safe;
Everything is okay.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
I am beautiful, intelligent but yet I feel lonely
I motivate myself yet am not a woman enough
By thoughts, imagination I am a woman
But nature disagree with me, who am I?
Oh nature have mercy on me
Make me real and proud to be a woman
A true reflection of neighbourhood, hope, care and love
A key of family but who am I?
Why does it feel bad, embarrassing?
But hope move through my heart
And you mind, give me sad and insecure thoughts of giving up
But land of homeless, motherless and fearless applaud me
For ubuntu the spirit of survival, but who am I?
Without one cry in my arms to show and give hope, life and emotion
Who am I? Who am I?
I am a woman, a community, a pillar and unity
A smile yet heavy inside but strong and brave
Who am I? Who am I?
N-Never give up
I am a woman, love and laughter
I am perseverance, I am a woman
Copyright © Milly Mashatola | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Today we rise.
No more hiding in the shadows,
No more silent complicity,
for the actions of men,
brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.
Today, we rise,
Today the change starts,
Today we rise.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
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 | Year Posted 2012
I doubt that unborn babies dream
but suppose if it were so,
they’d dream of nice and cozy things,
with sweet and gentle flow.
An unborn baby’s world is warm
and safe from any worry.
He floats upon sea of pure love.
Why would he want to hurry?
Unless he has some memories
of another time and place,
he rides in sweet contentment
in this dreamless little space.
In life I don't recall a time
I was contented only,
but I'm quite sure in Mother's womb
I was never sad nor lonely.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
If only there's a rewind,
I 'll stay at home each day.
Watch the movies, play in pen.
Cuddle my kids, tickle them.
Wait the whole day 'til they arrive.
Cook them a soup when it rains.
Give them a warmest hug,
when they reached home after school.
Help them do their assignments,
Be the best mom as I can be.
Collect the pieces of time that I missed.
Return the value I once taught them.
Regain the memories when we're together.
If time permits...
I'll go back to the place where I lived.
Have a rest in my old bed,
Sing the songs until I lose breath.
Play with my furry friends.
Hide above the roof and dreams.
Watch the sky as it pass by.
Tell the wind to blow mild.
I wish I can still grab a time.
To be myself, do what I want.
If only I can stop the time.
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
I am 18 years old
I just found out that I spend most of my time sleeping,
I am obsessed with it.
I have lived for 9,460,800 minutes
Most of which I waste on sleep
Sleeping is my personal heroin,
It lets my arms as a pair of wings to fly me to paradise.
When I want to escape from reality,
I shoot it up my veins.
One day, my mom was chatting with her friends,
When they discussed my studies,
I looked down at my shoes while their children smiled smugly.
Their smiles struck my wings like lighting
The path to my paradise began to disappear
I thought I could use my broken wings to open their eyes
so that they would see my true face
But this was just my imagination
I needed a hit so bad that I slept for 3 days
Feeling likes a puppet, no pain as my strings are pulled
My dream leads me into that sense again,
I looked at their lips and heard their words, proudly I say to her friends, “I am better than your child.”
When I awake, I feel my emotions flood back to me stronger than before
When I was in high school,
I worked so hard but I still couldn’t achieve a score to be proud of
When I see my father’s rough hands, I am shamed by my B Grade Paper.
Then I begin to think what I can do for him,
I ask: “DAD! Can I go to get a part-time job?
“No, getting back to your studies!”
I prepared to take another shot of heroin
To help me pretend as if nothing happened
I used to think that sleeping would solve my ailments
But I realized
I realized that I am escaping
Like boxers hide behind their gloves
Like timid warriors escape from the battlefields
These years, I am search in for peace
But opiate feeling blinds my eyes
Copyright © hanyue xu | Year Posted 2014
Oh! What a day, a perfect day
Something is found, as the game is plaid,
Something precious and something good,
A precious toy with heart and soul
Here‘s a day with quite a spirit
A cetin man must buy some (purity)
While a cetin woman is quite exhausted
She tries to speak but make no sense
Oh! What the hell its wealth a while,
They are all relived it went so well.
Oh!!! What is that, a new world warrior
With a crocodile’s heart and the spirit of
A cat, and that’s because he’s a mix of both
A dangerous mixture you’ll ever face, in
His body run’s the blood of cannibals.
I talk about a wild beast, with shining eyes
Like twinkling stars, nails as sharp as Uncle Leo pat
Teeth as strong as ant Lacosta,
He’s a big cat in the sense of the word, but I can
Argue that he’s a croc as well,
Copyright © Matshidiso Mosia | Year Posted 2016
One late night, I fell asleep in my chair
I dreamed of finding a box with a treasure so rare.
In this dream was a soldier and a good one at that.
I saw his old suit and his old tattered hat.
He had tried to stay youthful, but old he must be.
He walked with a limp because of his bad knee.
In the dream I visited with him one day.
And he told me a story that put me in dismay.
He said, "Here's a box that I'm giving to you.
It has a great treasure, if only you knew.
It contains this old coin, as you can see it's so old.
But to me it's worth more than all the silver and gold.
For you can see in the middle is a great big dent.
And there was so much force, that's why it's so bent.
I was out on the battlefield one dark night you see.
When a bullet was fired and it came straight at me.
This coin I had placed round my neck, next to my heart,
Was a prayer from my mother, she had sent from the start.
The bullet hit the coin and knocked me to the ground.
So I thank the Lord for this treasure that I found.
This coin in the box saved my life on that day.
Now you take it, treasure it and go on your way."
Thank you grandmother for listening to the Lord one day.
And sending dad this precious coin, which in this box I'll lay!
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2010
She saved herself from pick up lines though she looked vulnerable
She's sooo lovable her heart definition could ruin my poetic abilities
You cannot put a price on her she's not billable
If only her lips where adjustable my soft poetry would define her inabilities and weaknesses for the mute to scream happily ever after
She's untouchable i O you an explanation
Her tears tattoo broken spirits uploaded on instagram
She's no twitter baby though followers invite themselves its unbelievable
I could throw nice verses in our conversation but i'm afraid i'm love blind
I'll tell you more about her if you ask me....ask me nice
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013
mother-made moments should be soft and squishy
not filled with terror or just plain icky
mother-made moments should comfort and soothe
not leave you feeling like you've been royally screwed
they are supposed to feel like super softie towels
freshly out from the dryer
or like a kite on a breezy day
effortlessly flying higher and higher
mother-made moments should be strong as a boulder
full of helping-hands-up you'll remember when
you are older
mother-made moments should wipe away the tears
address, then erase all your fears
with lovey-dovey hugs
of freshly made hot coco
with the mini marshy-mellows floating on top
mother-made moments should leave you feeling wonderfully wise
squaring off your shoulders as you
look at people directly in their eyes
they should give the gift of loving you just where you are
saying your apple-cheeks and eyes are brighter
and prettier than all of the stars
mother-made moments should always be truly for your best
should be there always whenever you need a rest
offering wise counsel
and a pencil to take notes with
mother-made moments when scooped up altogether
should be a big fluffy bundle of love
waterproof in any kind of weather
a lifetime legacy celebration of truth
that there is nothing
and no one
she loves more
that's what mother-made moments should be
Copyright © Lesley Micuda | Year Posted 2014
The Dream Lingers
I meander past a rippling stream,
my hair blowing in the wild wind;
was that my name being called, softly.
did it sigh in the tangled trees above,
I whirl and swirl to only bird songs;
my name is but an echo, fading.
mother, where are you mother,
wait, wait I am coming, wait for me;
but only silence sighs, whispering.
I wake suddenly in my hospital bed,
lost in a sea of pain drifting;
gasping and struggling, breathing.
I was lost in a vivid dream,
where I was searching and seeking;
then I lay still in my bed, moaning.
I saw you lost in the forest daughter,
so many times I have reached for you;
but this time, my child, you were dying.
I called your name to come to me,
oh sweet joy, we would be united again;
but the Lord put his hand on my hand.
not yet, mother, she has things to do,
sadly, I turned away and my call faded;
just an echo in the tangled trees, a murmur.
in your hospital bed you were moaning,
so I lay down beside you and held you;
just like I did when you were my little girl.
and in your pain I was that voice pleading,
wake up my darling, life is waiting;
you have places to go and things to do.
then, slowly, you opened your eyes,
and I rose up to the sky where I belong;
but my sweet daughter, I am a whisper away.
September 27, 2015
For the contest, A Response To Your First Poem, sponsor, Silent One
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
A spider spun a silver web
in a mound of golden straw,
Then he hid himself inside the stack,
away from the wind so raw.
He yelled down to the sheep below
Who were trying to huddle close,
“It’s times like this that I wish there was
a fire for a mutton roast.
For winter had come upon the land
and his barn was deathly cold,
He wasn’t sure if he’d survive the night
if the truth of it were told.
He tried to dream a dream of hope
to get him through the night,
But he couldn’t bring himself to sleep
because of a blinding light.
A star was shinning down on them
as if the sun in mid-day glory,
The little spider had yet to learn
of the coming Christmas story.
Below was a ewe with her lamb
both snuggled up together,
Trying their best to keep warm
in the cold of the winter weather.
“I’d never trade places with you anyway,”
the mother sheep bleated out,
“Why are you so happy in your hate
to lend voice to pain and doubt?”
The light from heaven kept them awake
and staring in wide wonder,
When two weary travelers entered in
and the straw became their plunder.
The little spider became dislodged
as a nest of straw was piled,
And he could see that one of the travelers
was very great with child.
The three companions watched it all;
they’d never seen a human being born,
They were all surprised when at his birth
There came the peal of an angelic horn.
A herald’s call went out to all the land
announcing the newborn king,
And the spider and the ewe shared a laugh
to think of such a thing.
Because this baby was so very small
and his parents were so poor,
Yet there was something about this newborn child
that neither could ignore.
The spider looked down on the ewe
and said in a voice too bold,
“This baby needs to be swaddled now
to keep him from the cold.
Good ewe I can spin for him a cover
if you’ll allow me to use your fleece.”
So together they worked to swaddle the child
on this night of Holy peace.
The mother smiled at them all
as she took the blanket for her boy,
Then laid him in a manger poor
and they were overcome with joy.
The meaning of this wondrous event
was what made them all feel glad,
For they had brought the first gift to the Lord
by sharing what they had.
And the warmth, which they had provided the child,
also kept the three of them warm,
May the loving joy that they discovered
keep you this Christmas morn.
Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011