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Mother Grandmother Poems | Mother Poems About Grandmother

These Mother Grandmother poems are examples of Mother poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Mother Grandmother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Summers Eve

~Summer’s Eve ~

I am a woman!
I am proud-

I am everything you want. 
Plus more
The adoring wife,
A beautiful mother, 
A grandmother a granddaughter 
A daughter, a sister,
A lover, the aunt.
Your enemy, your friend.
I am the working lady.
A widow left behind.

  I AM!
The Spawn of Adam's rib-

  I AM!
A mentor throughout this world. 
A lady with class, sometimes a material girl.
A flower, and the sound of rain.

I am the color of the rainbow. 
I am deeper than the sea. 
I am the pink ribbon you wear.
I am delicate like snow.

  I AM!
The sun and the moon in your eyes.
A twister during dark skies.

  I AM!
The Daughter of Eve-

And, here is the only feeling I want to endorse. 
 Summer's Eve.

In honor and appreciation to all the women of the world.
Happy Mother’s day!


Details | Free verse | |



Hi grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew. 

Hello grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.

Hello Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.

Hello grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Bye, grandpa
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her

By; PD

Details | Free verse | |

The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
for the one she could not save.

See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back


*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's 
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)

Details | Free verse | |

Recalling Her

It is thirty six years ago, and I am with her in the garden,
where July is a picnic of egg sandwiches, cress-stippled,
the fuzzy down of peaches, acid-yellow tang of lemonade.
Her fingers have the delicacy of dancers
as she deftly mixes paint on a palette blue as the sky -
blobs of acrylics bright as sweet shop candy.

Summer is a sizzling colour wheel, spinning in its heat hues -
cadmium orange, pyrrole red, gold ochre -
those fever flames that blaze across her page.

My small world is warmed by the sun in her smile.

Russian vine stitches a delicate doily over the shed roof.
The heat-glazed garden shimmers and buzzes.
There is a twilight world under sweet clusterings of lilacs:
a cool shock of shade, pendulous-legged black flies
hovering in the murky mauve.
China white stars of jasmine light my way.
Please keep me close. Let me stay.


It is twenty six years ago, a morning of mourning,
and the notes of the dead bells toll
as, mist-muffled, they roll
through November's sleet streets.

I close my eyes and the sun in her smile parts the clouds.

Sober-suited people crush and cluster in pews;
row upon row of perylene black, winter-pale faces titanium white.
Stained glass windows filter and warm the ash-grey light
until her coffin is a vibrant palette of rainbows.

There are stories - lots of stories - anecdotes,
a crimson-backed journal she wrote,
a painting she painted, coffin-propped,
a poetry reading - one of her own -
Tapestry is a wondrous thing, in it the lovely colours sing. . .

Creamed rice-colour roses heap sweet
on her stone - a slate plate serving up a dead name -
and carnations splash cadmium scarlet
like blood throbbing from the gash of grief's raw wound.


It is now, and I am alone, taking a short cut home
through evening's rich palette.
Elegiac elms shed viridian tears,
and the sky is a burnt sienna explosion.
October's umber seeps into November's sepia tones.

My mind is coloured with her and then.
I hold a small cameo box that held
the colourful spill of her pills: kaleidoscope planets
orbiting my loneliness, spinning off into nothingness. . .

Dark figures fill the park: silhouettes, shadows
following me home; spirits stepped from her portraits,
faces pushed down into coat collars, crinkled with frowns.

Paint-pinned people in their primaries and pastels,
on canvas, under glass; stopped heartbeats of the past.
Trapped moments on paper and boards.

I close my eyes and see the sun in her smile,
recall how, since her passing, life has become a free fall,
a parapet leap without parachute.

And the smudged charcoal lines of memory
are beginning to blur, fading like her watercolours. . .

in memory of my grandmother

Details | Couplet | |

The Seamstress of Time

I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair

She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke

The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm

Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said

As she once again started to dissipate 
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”

As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face

Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”

Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true

I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways

The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight

Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble 

From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me

I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth

I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way

I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain

She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”

“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”

With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”

As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”

“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”

One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”

When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I 
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day. 

Details | Couplet | |

On The Moon

Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six

Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan

Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day

Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding

Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy.

A-L Andresen :)  - A true story -

Details | Limerick | |

Chocolate Moose Girl

Chocolate Moose Girl

A Sunday brunch one day went me
when she I saw, at table three.
From my mind to forget, never nor maybe.

For on this radiant sunny Sunday afternoon
in the Botanical Garden, my favorite room
sat at a table, grandmother and she.

The walls lined in fragrant ferns of green
baroque blossom ladies in gilded frames seen.
Her simple beauty profile delicate cherry flourish tree.

Now this vision alone, fulfilled my eyesight hunger greatly
when added she did this simple act make.
 To her pink full lips a taste took she.

When delicate and slow she lifted
her chocolate moose to mouth she gifted.

From the moose chocolate, I know previous take.
The finest ever no chief could bake,
Satisfying, soft coolness, still lingering in me.

A sublime sexual treat,
then look I did, toward her feet.
When out rolled her toes
from brocade slippers of gold, I see.

Her barefoot toes ached 
to reveal her pleasure
 with each spoon to lip,
 delight, same measure.
My mind to forget, never nor maybe.

Details | Light Poetry | |

I Am

I am an old lady, but did not live in a shoe 

I am a wife who married her soul mate twice because I wasn’t satisfied with just once

I am a mother that was overly protective of three sons, they all are different in every way, the youngest I planned before I got too old, I wanted a girl but I guess it was not meant to be

I am a grandmother of six, four boys and two girls, I love them all, with all my soul, all spoiled because that is what grandparents do 

I have friends that are more a family to me than my own, I would do anything for  them whenever they are  in need, but they have always been there for me   

I am a Christian Catholic and taught prep, I taught my students with lots of visuals because that is how I learn and retain, I also taught school with stern rules but compassionate to all  

I am an artist of oils,  so all I see is  beauty in everything  I see even the ugliest frog is beautiful to me

I am one of those wives that would love to walk hand in hand with my husband through the wood of the tall pine and look at the pond that lies beyond with the wild creature’s noseying to see but stay away

I am female

I am Eve is who I am

Written by Eve Roper
Frank Herreta’s Contest:
I am

Details | Free verse | |

'Love me with your Time'

I might make a noise right now There will be a time when I go silent Will you miss my racket? In those days of silence? I will no longer yearn for your presence Like I do at this very moment Will you wonder? Will you wish? For that good morning? I might be a nuisance right now I might ask you the same thing over and over One day Some day My voice will go silent All I ask today is be patient with me Please love me; with your ears Please love me; with your time Before all you will have Is my grave and the memories…
"Thoughts of the aged - loneliness don't discriminate " ©134517022015

Details | Couplet | |

One in Four Women

Terror seizes you, and it isn't kind. 
 You try to go somewhere peaceful in your mind.
But the pain rips you right back to here and now.
 Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even saying "ow."

You try to be strong, but he tears from you, a scream.
 Oh God, please let this be a terrible, terrible dream.
I thought he was supposed to be a friend of mine?
 As the tears grow down my face like vine.
He tells me I wanted it, even though I screamed no.
 He says my attitude and outfit told him so.
In the same breath, he threatens me never to tell.
 If they ask why the tears, you better say you fell.

As I got out of the car he pulled me to him and hugged me tight.
 He kissed my forehead and said Don't worry you'll be all right.
Just remember, if you open your mouth, no one will believe a dirty whore.
 Now go inside before I take you for another ride and give you some more.

Into the house and straight into the shower.
 I was in there for what felt like hours and hours.
My grandmother knew right from the start.
 Please don't tell, it would break Daddy's heart.

Please, Grandma he's not worth Daddy going to jail.
 For my sake and his, you can never, ever tell.
She kept her promise and never uttered a word.
 At night, she told me, my cries she heard.

For six weeks I kept my secret and told not another soul.
 For six weeks I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole.
Not until I heard that he raped a fourteen year old girl.
 Knowing I could have prevented it, shattered my world.

I finally told my horror story to the cops and to my Dad.
 I don't think I'd ever seen him so violently mad.
Mike was arrested, but in jail he would not stay.
 He lived around the corner and we had to move away.

He got probation, but not for me, his word against mine.
 I was sixteen, of legal age to consent, so for me he'd get no time.
His punishment, probation for only a couple of years.
 Me and his other victim were left with our fears.

Would he find us and take revenge for what he said was a lie?
 Would my father hunt him down, and go to prison for a rapist to die?
He got away, pretty much scot-free for his deplorable crime.
 His victims were the ones who were serving the time.

This IS a true story, my story, but not my story alone. After 8 years and raping several
other women Mike was sentenced to 35 years in prison. As he pleaded his innocence, we were
all in some way vindicated. He never did a day for brutally raping me, NOT ONE DAMN DAY.
But he's doing plenty now. I hope he gets ALL that he deserves.

Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Sing Africa

All's not about Darfur I've seen it, eerie winds Moonlight through our thatch We kissed round, one *palmie gourd Kigali was but a miss Waist-beads - beats to love Have you heard the talk-drum, *Fela's horns of brass, Or the *Aladuras' joy of Alleluia? My grandmother still walks miles Just because her forbears did, And shame on malaria For the dearth of men Oh, on Mandela's earth Of Soyinka's nobel ideas Africa - a big breast, the good, the bad, the ugly. . . all, as sucklings! *palmie - palm wine *Fela - Celebrated afrobeat musician *Aladura - a popular african instituted christian sect noted for heavy prayers

Details | Narrative | |


                          My daughter`s budgie "Sissie" died a late night
                       The next morning I told her that "Sissie" was dead
                     With tears on her eyes and cheeks, she asked her mom
                      - Is "Sissie" in heaven with God and grandmother ?
                       - Yes, she is with God, grandmother and the angels
                                                I answer her

                         Surprised at this answer, my daughter investigate
                                            whether it was true
                             She walks into the room where the cage with
                                         the budgie used to stand
                             After a short while, she runs back to mom....
                        - Mom, mom.... God has not only taken "Sissie"
                                       - God has taken the cage too


                              This is a true story  -  - - from gold child`s mouth

dedicated to: Laila A.Mjelde
A-L Andresen

Details | Rhyme | |

Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.


Details | Free verse | |

A Whistle in the Breeze

Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two, 
and this story . . . 

Here, let me take your hand
and I'll fluff up that pillow for you
How odd that the wind is nowhere today-

Whistle a happy tune for me, love
Don't you always say that whistling
calls the breeze, invites it in?
It's never failed before,
just as seeing you never fails
to put a smile on my face
...I can almost forget the pain
Whistle for me, and I shall sing for you

This is how I've always imagined us,
in a garden, the wind tickling the leaves
as we both immerse ourselves
 in music and laughter,
with the birds joining us in our song...

Just hold my hands, keep them warm
as we bask in the sun's golden rays...
seems like forever since I've felt it

Don't be afraid to close your eyes, love
I'm just here
...let me watch over you for once
You haven't slept for days, 
let me do this 
and sing you a lullaby

Hush, wind, hush
let my voice soothe his heart this time

I can feel your pulse-
it beats so much faster
as mine slows down, slipping...
much like the sun slips from my eyes,
my final sunset.

Forgive me, love,
 for leaving you this way
I know you wanted to be awake when I go
But you've been so tired,
and I don't want to see your eyes' lights die
as my own flicker and fade

It's better this way, believe me

The two of us imagining a garden,
hand in hand

As the wind breezes past,
so shall I...
forever in your breath, my love
dwelling in your heart, fanning those flames

and when you feel that wind has left you,
remember what you always do...
 Whistle and I am there


My maternal grandparents were my inspiration for this,
 so this holds a special meaning for me. 
This actual scene didn't actually transpire, although certain events inspired 
what happened in this poem.
My grandmother was a soprano, my grandfather did always say that, to 
whistle to call the wind... Even if she was 11 yrs younger, she died 12 years earlier 
than he did. Theirs was a beautiful love story. 

Details | Rhyme | |


;          -A    NOTE-             ;
***JUST SAY HELLO : - )****
***or  WHAT?? is FINE*******
***If you are here to make a comment!!*

My towel is made of silk
That does not make sense at all
I can drink bitter sour milk
Once again no sense at all

My busted line holds a stronghold
Confuse are we
A thieve breaks and leaves me gold
Leaving my thinking incomplete ???

In my dream he cut my head
puzzled ???
My dreams have a path of a flowerbed
Still puzzled ???

White winter shelter when it comes to snow
a riddle, a riddle
Black the night all over covered by coal
this I do not know

I walk and I have no feet
show me!
I speak and I have no mouth

a breathing exercise, wrong as it went
the stick walking got bent
understanding this  a bit

My boat is flipped upside right at the end of all weathers 
The grave is empty with dirt, full of feathers 
wise not to ask

((Last but not least))

The  grandmother is tall
The mother came short
The father is black to recall
Some white child of sort
Why the Mexican???

BY: P.D.

Details | Verse | |


PART One,,,, as she saw it.

The mountains and the meadows were always so beautiful this time of year.
 It seemed as if a fresh new world always came to life. The high cliffs turned sharply downward.  As I sat listening to the ocean tides smashing against the walls of the mountain below. There was a mild breeze blowing from the south. The grass in the flower covered meadows moved with the breeze. The sun shined so brightly I thought it would melt me at times.

As I stood up from the log where I was sitting by the emerald forest, the breeze pressed my dress against me. It formed to the soft round curves of my breast, down through the curves of my waist pushing against my yielding hips. As I blinked from the sun, I saw him there in the distance. I had thought I was alone. But there he was,  starring straight at me. What would I do and where could I turn? I knew what kinds of thoughts men had, my mother told me all about them. I saw that he was beginning to move my way !

 I saw him there as he saw me. I was paralyzed, not knowing what direction to move. Though as I watched him from afar, he did not seem dangerous as my mother always warned. Still, I could hear her words like a tape recorder in the back of my mind.
 Should I dare take my eyes from his? I could see his eyes were dark, maybe brown, or even midnight blue.  What ever the color, I could tell they were smoldering with restrained passions. His hair was long to his shoulder blades. I knew that because it moved with the wind.  He had broad shoulders with long legs. I knew I must not let him reach me. If his arms entangled me , surely I would never get loose. And, I'm not sure I would want too. Even though I heard the words of my mother, running in my head.
 I could feel the tiny  beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I was not sure I should take my eyes from him as I leaned down to pick up the fan that had slipped from my hand to my bare feet.

PART ONE,,,, As he saw it .

  The winter snow had melted and yielded to the bright warming rays of the spring sun.  The bears had come out of hibernation with their  new born looking for food. The mountains and the meadows were born again, new, fresh and alive with life.  Everything was beautiful and as it should be. Birds singing, their mating songs blended with the crash of the surf against the steep cliffs of the mountain. Nature was at peace with itself, and I came here to share in this peace.  To be alone with the earth, or so I thought.  

I found a place to sit on the grass hidden among the flowers in the high meadows.  So I could enjoy the gentle breeze blowing while watching the forest animals. The warm sun caressed my body and warmed me. It was a prefect day, yet something was missing. A day like this needed to be shared with someone, someone special.  Stretching,  I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye, just across the enchanted forest. Of a beautiful women. It couldn't be possible as no one knew of this place. I had come here for years and had never seen a another person before. Yet, there she was. Dressed in a dress the wind made love to, pressing it to her body. Clinging to the sensual curves of her breast, down to her firm waist and full inviting hips. I suddenly felt drawn to her and stood up. I knew she had seen me as she was starring back at me, as I stood staring back at her. She was a vision. And I was afraid she would vanish if I approached her. Yet, she seemed to be smiling, calling to me as I started walking towards her. I remember the stories my grandmother had told me of the enchantresses that lived in this forest, but I did not hesitate. I would give to her anything she wanted, anything she desired.

As I approached her I realized she was real. She seemed to be looking at me, daring me to come closer. All the stories of the enchantress my grandmother had told me flooded my mind with a warning. Yet, she was so beautiful, so inviting  and I couldn't take my eyes from her. I was slowly losing control with each and every step that brought me closer to her. I knew I was lost as I felt the heat of my desire to be with her, starting to take control. It was a struggle not to run to this beautiful creature , with the golden hair, and angelic face.  As I came closer I couldn't help but notice her sensual breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She seemed to be smiling, challenging me with everything that made her a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman this sensual, this beautiful, this desirable was surely the enchantress, and I was hers. As a bee is drawn to the flower, I was being drawn to this women.

Suddenly she reached down to pick something up. It was just then I noticed she was barefoot.  As she bent over to retrieve what she had dropped, the sun reflected off her spun gold hair. and radiated a golden brightness that was almost blinding.  Her dress shifted  allowing me to see that her body enhanced her dress, rather then the dress enhancing her body. She would look beautiful in anything she wore.  The heat of my desire for her was beginning to consume me with it's fire. I felt the beginnings of ,,,,,,,,,,   


   Nov. 18 1992,,,, Short story I started to write, A friend ask if he could write from a males point of view.

Details | Epic | |

To My Wife Grandpa Murray's voice

I wandered and travelled
Nor knew where I'd gone .
Life became a problem;
T'was one long cruel song.

My problems seem to multiply;
They came from every side.
I vowed to find the answer;
by this I would abide.

I looked into nature
And tore apart my mind.
Then put them on the table
To see what I could find.

I found that I'de been greedy
and avaricious, too.
Whenever projects of mine failed
I put the blame on you.

I found that I was lonely;
I thought you didn't care.
But what I really didn't know
Was you were always there.

You tried to fill the void
That always was in my Life.
you tried to ease the sorrow
You've been a real good Wife.
                           Yvette & Grandpa Murray  
          From James Murray to , Janet Murray ..his beautiful wife.
" In great respect of Grandfather Murray's poem he wrote for my  Grandmother Murray "

Details | Free verse | |

The Pilgrimage

They fought the tide to own this land
A fight I did not understand
They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
But yet,…by God,……they owned the pride

In retrospect, I'm still ashamed
It was, my flippant pilgrimage
I had come a stranger to this place
About to step upon the moon,
A cratered space of rocks and sage
Of rolling hills, with no escape

She saw it differently, of course 
Although her body weary, worn
Her eyes were strong, ...she saw a home

Her age was then, what mine is now
It had been her home, and it had been her vow
To come again, just one more time.  

I was thirteen, and dragged along
I overlooked the great attraction
I could not see the satisfaction
I missed the light upon her face

She saw the youth she left behind
Her gray eyes drinking up the sun, 
I saw the dust, I saw the bones, 
Where she saw beauty,  I saw none .....
Nothing more than a sea of weeds, the crumbling brick, 
A place to shuffle my restless feet

But stories came, and they sunk in….
And now I view with wiser eyes…
She told me all these things back then…but now, I smile,… remembering.

     They had to fight to own this piece of land
     They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
     And yet,…oh yes,…….they owned the pride


Recited on youtube

For Deb's Contest:....2nd Option..(With age comes wisdom, understanding and
                                                  appreciation. I am never too old to keep learning
                                                  and value those who came before and made me
                                                  who I am.)


Details | Couplet | |

Coffee at Christmas with Joyce

It was at Christmas time that she invited me to her home
This wonderful Northwest lady that I feel I’ve always known
Her coffee pot was brewing as I entered her living room
To find her tree adorned with an angel who had died too soon
Little Joycie was but a child when God called her back to him
As we shared a cup, tales of our past and future were woven
A grandmother with a gift for words reached out and touched my heart
I brought a hand-made Christmas stocking, hoping joy to impart
A special connection I made with this talented poet
To be able to call her a friend, I am blessed and I know it

Written by Carolyn Devonshire and Dedicated to Super Souper Joyce Johnson
For Michael's "First words over coffee" contest

Details | Narrative | |

True Praise

I used to look at your wrinkly hands
And see the veins follow routes like a map
Your fingers shook like a spayed chihuahua on the piano keys
Demonstrating the chord in which I was supposed to play after you

I was thinking instead about the stool we were sharing
How old and fragile  the wooden piece was
The green-blue floral padding faded and worn
The chipped, wobbly legs 
That creaky sound when you repositioned...
And I was praying it wouldn't collapse under our bodies

Your voice was gentle and calm 
Softly pushing me back to my practice
 and my fingers played that bright G Chord
“Very good,” You praised with a smile
Your voice so small and lightly faded
But still loving and pleasant

You explained to me arpeggios and broken chords
And I was glad it was you explaining it
I remember yelling at my dad
And throwing a big tantrum over playing “Allouette” 
His straight harsh voice cut my fingers off the keys
As he ordered me to pay attention
Watching his hairy fingers demonstrate the left hand
And then the right
Pressing loudly and ramming the song into my every being

And I remembered 
I was never concerned about making him angry
I would laugh if he made a mistake in teaching
Or if he stumbled on his words - which was frustratingly rare
I would scream if he corrected me
And yet I was determined for his praise
That he never gave 

Your son loved music like you
And he wanted me to love it just like him
In an annoyed kind of way, I obliged
But I would make him suffer for forcing it on me
Even if I couldn't deny it was something I would always love

We never have our piano lessons anymore, Grandma 
But I will never forget how you taught me
That stool remains in the room
It hasn't been sat on for days

And it took far more than mere days
To receive from your son…true praise

But that’s okay
I will pray it collapses under his body

Details | Bio | |

My Origin

Where do I come from? Well we all come 
from somewhere. I was born in a small 
town, here in in good old U S of A. South 
to the border, by the Rio Grand. Mission 
Texas is the town's name.

My real parents came from Mexico. My
grandmother, it was said  - she came from 
Spain. My grandfather was indian. He fought 
in the Revolution. Both were on my mother's

On my father's side, never knew too much, 
only that the grandmother died kind of 
young. The grandfather died years later, but
I never got to know them.

My father left my mom, when I was only three.
He never came back. My mother gave away my 
sisters, than later she gave me. She only kept
my brother, maybe she couldn't keep me.

I was raised with a nice lady and her husband.
I learned to call her mom. That title she had 
earned and my respect most of all. My parents
that raised me were poor, but made sure I had 
something to eat. My mother made my dresses 
so that I could go to school.

I learned to read and write and enjoyed school
very much, but I had to quit at fifteen to help my
parents out. Years later I went back and finished
my High School. 

I did not go to college , or mastered in any degree. 
I am what you might call self taught. For about thirty
years I worked with electronics and did my job well.
I gained respect from my bosses and high top

My parents taught me good values that have helped 
me  through out life. I am not ashamed of my 
origin, of Mexican Heritage I came. I am what you
would call a TEX. MEX. and I live up to my name...

Just a little about myself. Hope
you enjoy it.

written by Lucilla M. Carrillo

Details | I do not know? | |

The Perfect Woman

I called her Gana      All my life     Not long enough     Wish      More than anything       Had one more chance        To say       I love you Marie       My grandmother

Details | Acrostic | |


P-oetess, who is so GREAT and LOVELY
O-n  the pedestal, I look up at her with so much glee
E-verything she writes are splendid and they all inspire me
T-eaching  me unique writing styles, drawing me to pen more with piquancy.

D-estroyer is a nice name  giving me good impressions
E-ncouragement through her comments, destroy all my writing inhibitions
S-o grateful that heaven brings  her as one of my precious gems
T-ruly, I will forever treasure her in reality and in my dreams
R-ight here in my heart and mind, I sincerely admire her
O-h, what a great mother, grandmother and also a sweet friend and sister!
Y-earning to meet her someday,  I still wonder
E-nchanting names she has are giving me puzzles
R-esolve my doubts, who is  Skat and Linda who has the same name as her bf forever?

Written: Sept. 6, 2012

10th Place Winner
Contest: Curiosity Killed the Cat Harry Horsman and Mandy Tams
Judged: 10/3/2012
Poet Sponsor: Harry Horsman

Details | Free verse | |


They called her Nell
Her parents    the brash    rugged 
transplanted Irishman
and the shy    gentle Cherokee lady
They called her Nell
for it was a good solid name
a proper name    an English name

They called her Nell
The people in her southern Illinois hometown
Not Injun    or half-breed
but respectfully Nell    Miss Nell
Said she was a right fine figure of a woman
with her ebony hair and dark bottomless eyes
Cheekbones towering over ruby red lips 

He called her Nell
The rough    unpretentious laborer
who won her heart and her hand
Called her the love of his life
Teased her for her quick temper
and her no-nonsense Southern Baptist way of living

They called her Nell
Neighbors with hands holding empty cups
waiting for a little sugar or butter
Waiting for a little kitchen conversation
Calm soothing words without barb or bite
which passed the lips of a woman unlike another

They called her Nell
The doctors in town respected her
for she was nursing when they 
were still in knee britches
and she never    ever let them forget it

They called her Nell
Coal miners    Hospital patients
with burned lungs and broken bones
waited to see her face each morning
beneath her starched white cap
Heard her no-nonsense stride moving 
through the wards 
Took comfort in her presence

They called her Nell
This diminutive lady who chased a little girl
through the house with a fly swatter
when she found me swinging on her four poster bed
But couldn’t bear to hit me when she caught me 
so she hugged me instead

They called her Nell
when she stood in her yard on a clear 
summer night and patiently taught me 
how to catch fireflies and put them in a jar 
with holes in the lid while hungry mosquitoes buzzed

They called her Nell
when she poured me ice cold root beer
from a glass jug and served my favorite
homemade vanilla ice cream    while she 
told the most wonderful stories of my ancestors

They called her Nell
when she dropped everything to fold me 
in her arms and rock my pain away
As her soft lips kissed my tears 
her voice whispered in my ear    assured me 
that I would survive     Told me to always remember 
what we cannot go through    we just go over or around   

They called her Nell
because that was her name
and she wasn’t to them what she was to me
She was Nanny 

She was my grandmother who loved with all her heart

Details | Free verse | |

Moon bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?

I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.

Details | Free verse | |

Pure Of Heart

Wise Grandfather Shaman, 
I am pure of Heart,
I bathe beneath the Moon, 
and dry beneath the Sun,
I listen to the Wind,
I run with the Deer,
I hunt with the Wolves,
I fish with the Eagles and Hawks,
I ride with the Wild Paints,
And roam with the Buffalo,
I grow with Grandmother Tree,
Ever learning from her Wisdom, 
I am skilled in Warrior Ways,
A strong Hunter, 
A compassionate Listener,
A patient Tracker,
I have gathered with the other women,
Contributing to our tribes growth and strength,
I leave no tracks of moccasins in the soft clay,
My heart is pure,
And I wish to continue my journy,
Wise Grandfather Shaman,
Allow me to enter your lodge,
I will smoke from the sacred pipe,
My heart is pure.

Details | Free verse | |


Once a place that sold cultivated pigment, the shop has become a catacomb,
Windows entombed by cardboard boxes, deprived of the merest hint of life and
I wonder if the gallery owner had intended a display of irony or focused rage. 

Gone, the watercolour weeping chartreuse, its soft backdrop of midnight blue,
And the oil on wood with knife strokes applied so thickly, it almost moved, 
Charcoal sketches of thunderstorms hitting the shores of Port Elgin, greys loud. 

Dark now the halls that had sheltered dreamscapes, art of all disciplines and sizes,
Squeezing themselves into corners and elbowing each other for my attention.
I ache for that one perfect dove that called to me from an azure sky, the one who 

knew my name, but I did not have the funds to take him home to my little cage.
He deserved a rectory or a view that would at least provide a kind of sanctuary.
Oh, how his wings had beat against pulse points and one of his feathers tickled

out a memory of a robin that had flown towards a cloudless sky, but instead had 
collided with a picture window; the contact point marred by a red, sickle shaped 
smear, and my grandmother had carefully wrapped the corpse in yesterday’s news.

I had trudged out to the garbage can, unseen, found the poor thing in its shroud, 
Snuck out to the garden and buried it amongst tall phlox and florid snap dragons,
I’d succumbed to tears, wrenched by a world where beauty is fragile and disposable.

Today people walk along the street, wearing blinders, holding devices that fail to
signal that something living and real slowly starved to death, atrophied, and I watch
a happy child point to a puddle, but her mother fails to see the large coin it holds.

I recall a portrait that had enraptured like a sun shower, reminiscent of light and rain, 
A girl traipsing waves, almost overtaken, her footsteps disappearing under foam…
And I silently apologize to those artists unmet, the ones who continue to meet panes. 

*Please click on the About my Poem link to see a picture of what inspired this poem... It has been closed for a while, but today, I walked past it and remembered the lovely art that I had once appreciated, yet was never able to afford. 

Details | Free verse | |

Childhood trifles

those days the sun flew like corn flour 
freshly ground at the millrace 
even in winter it was yellow  
when I pressed it down with my thumb 
like an unfastened button on my chest 

I hardly cut my way with a stick 
through the tall weed field 
until my knee high socks 
were filled with thistle tassels 
jumping over the fence like a thief 
into our apple orchard
so no one knew where I was 

when the Big Dipper rose over the barn 
I slipped on the manger’s opening
inside freshly cut grass 
stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking  
singing for the young foal with caramel skin 

those days all hearts were red and warm 
in the shape of a gingerbread heart 
each star was a story 
whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade

Details | Light Poetry | |


January & February this year, 
prescription lenses lost. I count
the cost (it cost me dear).

A place for everything
and everything in its place,
my grandmother said,

but I only know 
where my glasses are
when they're on my face.

Details | Bio | |

Simply Young

I want to be forever young
Just wish to live young

Lived a little too long
I need to understand

In order for me to understand
I need to live my young years

Live my younger years
Over and over and over again

This poem I write today
Is one pulled from my head

I decided to base my idea
On the bases of my life

I've always wanted to be a kid
I don't really want to grow up

Yes I want kids of my own
Yes I want a husband

I want a home
I want a life

Just not quite right now
I'd really like to live as a youngin' right now

I know I'm not ready
For the responsibility that comes with adulthood

I look to my mom for guidance
I talk to my grandmother for wisdom

Both have told me the same thing:
"Live your life as you. Don't bend for anyone else."

Their wisdom continues:
"You're only young once. Be happy and don't try to grow up too fast."

This is a story, in the form of a poem
I hope you enjoyed reading it
Because I know I enjoyed writing it.

Details | Free verse | |


On hearing your death
What creep in my head was
Akon's Pot of Gold
Its melody within heart
You have served your purpose
So Rest in Peace
Born to Love
But it enslaved and betrayed
And onwards you pressed
Your foils nurtured your old age
As strong as you were
Your battle on the thin line
You won hands down
I admire You
Last week I saw and greeted 
You were fit
What an awesome recovery
Indeed your Maker wiped your tears
But now it is finished
Well done
As a kid I run onto your bosom on visits
Then rained on me praises
But I lost contact
Next I saw you on life’s field of war
Then despised, not long
I grew wise to know
For with time all will grow
Was in turn and showered care
Hope you recognized
Thanks for your Blessings
My half seed of lineage
May God lay you to a Peaceful rest
Where Love will search to find you
Your foils cry
Swollen red are our fragile eyes
Thousand thorns within our hearts
Pain abounds here
May your Spirit comfort us
Smile down once again
Smile down once again
Memories well built would be well kept
Strong willed, Religious, Grateful 
Lord we are thankful
Yours forever
A Single Parent's sweat lay to Rest in Peace.

©Kofi Asokwa-Nkansah

Details | Narrative | |

Potawatomi's Beginning...

The story I have to tell- was told long ago to me, 
About the creation of the Potawatomi Nation; 
In the beginning the Creator made Anishabe, 
And the Creator told Anishabe to name all of his creations,
 Anishabe set out with a wolf, his companion, 
And he went around naming everything; 
From the mountains and the canyons, 
To the Summer and the Spring; 
He became lonely realizing, he alone had no mate,
 And as he traveled everywhere searching, 
He traveled towards the Great Lakes;
 And there he heard a woman singing, 
Her song was a thing of beauty, 
About the home she was making for them;
 Anishabe crossed the lake to meet her, finally, 
The daughter of the Firekeeper-And quite a gem 
Their’s was the first unity bond, It is where life came from; 
Of each other they were inordinately fond;
 Their union gave life to four sons,
 Each of their sons went a different way, 
The First son traveled North, it’s color is White, henceforth;  
Given the first gift of the Creator-sweet grass-braided in a bouquet, 
He married the daughter of the Spirit of the North; 
The second sun traveled East, into the rising sun, 
He learned that fire is the essence of life; 
He was given the second gift-herbs to speak with the One,
East is the color Yellow, East’s daughter became his wife; 
The third son traveled South, known as “The Way of The Woman”, 
The way of seeds and all that give life, the color of South is Red; 
He was given the gift of cedar-to purify and prepare food for his clan 
And to the daughter of the Spirit of the South he was wed.
 The last son traveled west, towards the mountain highlands, 
He learned that the setting sun represents the circle of life; 
Black is the color of West-Sage was the gift for his hands,
 Married to the Spirit of the West’s daughter, Black stands for strife. 
This is the story of the Creator, That my Grandmother told to me,
 How my culture was started, And what our banner means.

~I've been holding on to this a while-Hope you enjoy the beginning of my culture~

~3rd Place in the "Broad Horizons" Contest by Deborah Guzzi~

Details | Bio | |

How Lucky We Are

Been so lonely a long, long time
Cannot do it wrong, wrong time
So dazed and confused
That I feel slightly used

From some abuse I sustained long ago…  
This could have made me go very slow…
Not on your life, I go very fast…
I want to get there, Don’t want to be last…

I was beat like a man by the time I was 5
It is a wonder that I came out alive
My grandmother died at the hands of this man
It is a cold case file so what’s the plan

I could never do what was done to me
Wanting my children to be wild and free
Live your life freely for you will know
To open your eyes and watch the show

I lived a life that was not for the meek
Scared for my life every day of the week
Once it was known what happened to me
My mom made it so we could be free

She was scared for her life as well you know
Now none of that matters we were able to go
Holding a knife to his greasy throat
She escorted him out to the dirty road

How lucky we are to be free
I sure am happy to be me
My children have children that make me smile
Think I will go run the miracle mile

Details | Couplet | |

Our Grandmother's Blessings

So many trials seem to be filled up with so much fear
So many ask, “Oh Dear Lord, what am I doing here”?

So many questions that I have come to know
If we just plant a seed, with water it will grow

I have a natural green thumb that now is wasting away
Along with a mind that does love to go out and play

Times I still ask, “How did this all came to be”
What was it that my wife was able to see in me?

She says that my heart was the most beautiful around
It still blows me away, for I clearly remember the sound

Her voice was so soft, her tone was so sweet
I was nothing less than pure evil upon two feet

Had been years since anything had took me by surprise
Ice cold is what the rest of the world had seen in my eyes

I looked at her smiled and laughed in my cold convict way
She smiled and said, “Why you want to be mean anyway”

I told her, “I reckon we are all born to just what we are”
She said, “So why are you a dope cook instead of a star”

That question stopped me right there dead in my tracks
I thought, “This girl is a looker but God she is whacked”

Last night her and I sat out underneath the moon
Two very blessed souls swinging in our sliver spoon

Just a little swing we built together out in our back yard
Place to just sit back and rest after a day long and hard

I once again ask her, how in the world could you ever know?
 “My Grandmother was preacher, I could see her in you soul”

Which led me to speak out my truth for I learned to not lie
"My grandmother was also in yours, answering the entire “Why”

Grandmothers we respected and held above all others 
Brought each of us together in the land born of lovers

Two Grandmother Spirits full of pure heavenly delight
Led their grandchildren into the valley born of the light

Now here we sit holding each other, each other high above
Because we share in the blessing of our Grandmothers love

Toni and I had lost our Grandmothers before we had ever met
though I knew of hers because she was a very powerful lady
and a down home speak in tongues Pentecostal Preacher that
had great respect up in these parts. After all these years we 
confided in each other that we could see our grandmothers in
each others eyes. Thank you and God Bless, MJ

Details | Acrostic | |

Blue Wind......

If I were to write about love

I would start with a word

like candle......


I remember before my grandmother died

she would recomend

I get a job in the writing world

the acting world

and then she's gone.......

I remember the rain....

how one life affects another.....




if i were to write about love....

i would start with a word....




Details | Free verse | |

We Made Ice cream

  I remember! 
  Cranking that old wore-out handle on that ice cream maker, until I thought my 
arms were going to fall off.  Having a big smile on my face, as I turned and 
turned, pushed and pulled on that old crank begging my big brother, the whole 
time to “Spell me!” so I could set on an old rag on top of the ice, using my weight 
(as it was) to hold that ice cream maker in place. 
   I remember my grandfather coming out of the house, out on the back porch. To 
make sure my big brother and I was “Doing it right.” as if, there was a wrong way! 
He made sure that we
had plenty of ice, plenty of rock salt. I can still see him sticking his little finger in 
the weep-hole to make sure it didn’t get stopped-up. That was most important to 
him, as he
always got the first bowl. I don’t know why? He clamed, he would get the first 
bowl, to make sure that salt didn’t get into the mix. Funny to me, he never made a 
salty face as he was eating that first bowl.  
   I remember, watching my grandmother making that “mix” she picked the 
freshest eggs, measured just the right amount of vanillin extract, I loved the way 
her kitchen smelled. I watched her chop the bananas peal the peanuts, stir it up 
with the cream and sugar. She hummed “Old Rugged Cross” as she made that 
sweet ice cream mix, it was as if she was having fun; like the turning of the crank 
for us boys, work for sure but still fun!
  I would eat light, as that banana-peanut ice cream cured while we had supper, 
waiting for grandfather to finish his third helping, we had to wait, he always got 
the first bowl, I don’t know why? 

Details | I do not know? | |


B eautiful boy 
R ough at play
Y oung and curious
C uddly and loving 
E normous energy


A ngel from heaven
L oving and loyal
I rresistibly  huggable 
A dorably cute
N eat and outgoing
A  pple of our eye

Details | 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.

Details | Diamante | |

Tiny Dancer


                         soft pink
                dancing, acting, performing
            Artist, musician, poetess, magician
              entrancing, captivating, giving
                       tiny dancer


Details | Ballade | |



Grandparents they be two lights
Who may lead to wisdoms door.
For hopefully they've lived their lives
And made that journey to the core
And found the jewel buried there
Beneath the shades of sorrow.
And now these two be living life
No past and no tomorrows.

They be a pool within a desert
Where the grass grows lush and green.
A cool place where the kids drop in
To breath in air that's more serene.
They will be gentle, sweet, but stern
{If the need for this comes up}
But mostly kids look on these folk
To over fill the loving cup.

And when these ancient ones depart
And through the golden gates do stroll
The power that rules these mighty realms
{Once the aids have weighed the soul}
Will send them down as spirit folk
To help folks lives to flow
before they enter Earth again
To gain another chance to grow.

Details | Free verse | |

A Heart Stop Away

tiny lass who graced this world joyfully brightening her grandmother’s life less than 12 short years smile so angelic, it could crown a Christmas tree never seeking sympathy Joycie’s zest for life drew admiration leaving her gracious memory in her family’s hearts much we can learn from Joycie who never succumbed to self-pity each day, a celebration of life albeit far too brief her smile still shines in heaven glowing beacon in the night sky her grandmother finds comfort seeing Joycie’s face -- a glowing star
Dedicated to Joyce Johnson and based on her poem “Joycie”

Details | Free verse | |


Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Details | Bio | |









Details | Narrative | |

Baseball in Heaven

My grandfather and I had a special relationship.

When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore.  But, my family moved away from 
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my 
grandfather.  Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to 
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles.  I was the one grandchild who 
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.

Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when 
he was young.  In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make 
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or 
get married and raise a family.  As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by 
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that 
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove, 
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.

But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the 
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the 
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles.  As crummy as the Baltimore bums are 
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than 
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.

I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing.  Had he 
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a 
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much 
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.

When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once 
again strap on his spikes and don the leather.  Without a doubt, they must play baseball in 
heaven.  And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young 
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.

(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)

Details | Narrative | |

Grandparents Before - But not today

Grandmothers and grandfathers how they look,
how can we see that there is a grandmother or a grandfather
When I was a little girl we could see a grandmother and a grandfather
Grandparents used hats, glasses, and walking stick
The skin of their face was weathered and wrinkled
Some had teeth they put in a glass in the evening

Grandmothers always had time for a glass of juice and a hug
She was never impatient, tie shoelaces with pleasure
Always in floral dresses, which smelled like grandma
Grandmothers wont not be at work tomorrow, she has time for an adventure
She does not skip a single word, to be finished soon
It was always sweets in grandmother's hand bag
She never spared, but shared with a beautiful smile

Grandfathers were a bit more restrained,
 bit concerned about the day's news in their newspaper
He would like to go for a walk, and he walks with small cautious steps
When he meet someone he knows, he lifts a bit on his hat and nod
He has very little hair on his head, and his head shines in the sun
Grandfathers have a strong hand to hold, I was confident in his hand
He could tell me what all the birds called, he was so wise

Everyone should experience an old-fashioned grandmother and grandfather
one that does not have a television, computer or washing machine
A grandmother and grandfather who always have good time

But it was in the past ..... not today...

A-L  Andresen :)

Details | Elegy | |

Grandma Wings

Grandma Wings
By Lawrence M Nunez

Dear Lord I pray,
That you give my grandma wings
Like the Angels in my dreams
That from heaven flies
To stand watch at night 
Over me as I sleep
That she too my angel may be
Tonight and forever

Let them be pretty O lord
as the lilies of the fields,
white as the morning clouds,
Light as the feather of a dove.
like the glistening snow
and shimmering sea
her wings will glow,
as she stand watch
night and day, every day
guarding me as I sleep and play.

I could see her now O Lord
the big old smile 
The kind and loving words
The twinkle in her eyes
Wings outstretch
whispering I love you darling, 
It will be okay 
For now I have my wings
To stand guard tonight as you sleep

Grandma I miss you so
I remember the talks 
And the  laughs 
Even the tears we shed
Both you and me
Mine out loud without a care
Yours in secret because you care
Thank you Lord for giving her wings
To stand guard tonight as I sleep

Lord I pray you give her rest
Peace and joy untold
No more sorrow no more pain
but beautiful wings
that she may from heaven fly
to stand watch over me tonight
as I cry myself to sleep
bidding her good-bye with a heavy heart
I say good bye grandma good bye

Details | Couplet | |

Till We're Dead

There’s taxes on underwear, dresses and ties,
and taxes on ointments your grandmother buys.

There’s taxes on food at your local D.Q.
and taxes on food even good for you too!

You’re taxed on most services; and you are taxed
if you get your most private areas waxed.

You’re taxed every year (it should be a crime)
on the same house and car that you bought just one time!

The plan for which all your work’s taxes went in,
when finally used, you’ll be taxed for again!

You’re taxed more for smoking! You’re taxed if you fly.
Your loved ones get taxed on your stuff when you die!

Rich brats have their loopholes and still get ahead.
But most of us won’t find relief till we’re dead.

Inspired by Carolyn Devonshire's "Taxing Times" Contest

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Reflections of You

Somewhere in deep recesses of my mind
I try to picture my great- grandma's face.
She left no photograph of self behind,
But I dream of her dressed in bits of lace,
Tatted perhaps, by her artistic hand.
Her sewing genes survived but not in me.
She lived, labored and loved and then she left
No memories for future progeny.

I've traced her name, it is all I can do
To give her substance and to make her real.
She was a living being who could cry,
Could laugh and all other emotions feel.
There was a time I could have asked my mom
If there were things about her that she knew.
That chance is gone and is forever lost,
No one is left who could offer a clue.

Dear Grandma I lend you my willing pen.
Reflect upon the life that you once led.
Be free to speak about your memories
And say the things you wish that you had said.
There must be lots of stories left untold
And lessons great-grandchildren could have learned.
Dear Mollie Blosser, I'd love to record
The place in hist'ry you have richly earned.

By;  Joyce Johnson

Form  Iambic Pentameter

Details | Lyric | |

Heaven Gained an Angel When I Lost You

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

I remember as a child you were always there
Just a phone call away
Is what you used to say
Your voice was always so calming to me
I wish I could hear it now
As my heart is breaking

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

I remember when I would hear you were
Coming I would count the days
And then on the day you arrived 
I would ditch dad to go be with you
I was a daddy’s girl yes 
But I was more of a
Grandma’s girl for sure

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

You knew how to lift me up
When my spirits were down
So many times you gave me 
A shoulder to cry on
You could make me smile even 
When all I could find was a frown

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

So many times in life when I have been
At a crossroad and didn’t know 
What way to go
All I had to do is think to myself
What would Grandma say?
And I always knew 
What to do

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

I am going to miss the wisecracks 
You telling me what to do
I am going to miss 
Your wisdom you so readily shared with me
I will always miss the talks we had 
Most of all I will always miss 

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

So many times you made me laugh
When I felt like I was going to cry
You were the mom I never really had
A Grandma and a
I really wish time
could stop for just a few
Give me a chance to really say
Good Bye to you

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

I know you are
watching down on me
I know your love will always be there
I even know you will always be a part of me
However right now 
In this moment my heart is still broken
It feels as though
someone punched me in the gut
I can’t even catch my breath
I know it will take time
And it has only been a few days

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

I know my life will go on
I know you would want it that way
However it will never be the same
I don’t know if I will ever get used to 
Not being able to just pick up the phone
Whenever I think of you
Or need someone to talk to 
I have a long road ahead of me 
I wish you were here to walk with me
But I know you will be watching over me 
So here is to you
All the love we shared 
And all the love we will share 
Until we meet again 
Grandma I love you

Heaven Gained an Angel
When I Lost You

Details | Quatrain | |


You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life

Details | Free verse | |

I remember you

I Remember last Wednesday,
I can see your smile, your eyes.
If I only knew it was the last day
I would have only stared into those eyes.

Where are you?
If I only knew

You used to visit me one day
Every week after school,
Always on Wednesday,
That was a Golden rule.

Now I know you rest,
And I always keep in mind:
to me you were the best.

Details | Free verse | |

Love Never Fades

There's a little history to this particular poem. I know I wrote it when I was 11 or 12 years old. I wrote it for my Grandma Dorabel, who is today 90 years old. I also wrote it for my uncle John who had been taking care of her at the time; I didn't want to leave him out so I put on the letter: For Grandma Dee and Uncle John! I wrote this short little poem along with a drawing of a cat and some flowers. However, I actually never sent the picture to her! My parents and I must have forgotten to send! To me that was unacceptable! I thought to myself today when I found the picture, I must send it now! The picture is now on its way to her, so I am happy she will at last receive it. 

---------------------------- You can send me a bouquet of flowers, You can order me a box of chocolates, You can buy me a fancy outfit, But flowers don't last, Chocolates eventually disappear, Outfits get out of style, Yet Love never fades, And it's the most precious gift of all

Details | Monoku | |


Threaded memories, the smell of my grandmother seeps from the pillow

Details | Epitaph | |

Goodbye to Grandma

I stepped out into th Monday morning rain,
'Cause where else can she be,
But in th rain;
But on my skin.

I'm at ease,
I'm home,
Where my heart is.

She's at ease,
She's home,
Where her heart is.

Always will be,
Evermore with me.

My pain,
Like th rain,
Comes to a drizzle

But my love,
Like her love,
Goes on forever.

I look'd out into th Monday morning rain,
'Cause where else can I find myself-
But in th rain,
Under my skin;
I'm at ease.

Details | Free verse | |

Gifted Hands

A pinch of salt, a dab of pepper, a spinkle of Mrs.Dash
Lets mix it all together
Gifted hands starting at the age five
Helping grandma in the kitchen all the time
Choosing to say in the house to learn all the ingredients
Instead of going outside to play hide and seek
Grandma always told me my hands are special,
You wait, watch and see what I tell you
Gifted hands is for certain people only
The miracles that you will be able to do 
Don't forget what grandma told you
6 bars of 10oz cracker barrel cheese, eggs, carnation milk,
seasonings, salt & pepper
When you put it all together, this makes macaroni & cheese
One of the gifted hand's favorite dishes
It will melt in your mouth like a piece of candy
Grandma always told me my hands were gifted
Now I cater for a variety of people
Gifted hands is one of my best qualities.

Nerrissa Jenkins
Contest-With these hands
Visual #2

Details | Free verse | |


With the gentle
touch of  hand
She brought feelings
of peacefulness
Her smile lit up the
Love radiated from
her heart
You found peace and
in her warm loving
Compassion in her
A gentleness of an
in the midst of her
own suffering
In all her trials
her spirit was not
It was God's
strength that
carried her through
The precious moments
spent with her
Brings loving
memories of my dear

Details | Epigram | |

Mom - You are my harmonious World

                       The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
                                         wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

 Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!! 

      MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt always shower with an unconditional are the  mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..

wrote by:
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

Details | Free verse | |

Grandmother's Hand

I saw a picture just once a long time ago
I don't know the artist's name or from where he came
But the image I'll never forget, that much I know
I hope its beauty to you I can explain
A small child's hand reached up so round and small
Bashfully grasping from seemingly no where at all
Towards what appeared to be his grandmother's hand
Weather worn and wrinkled hanging down 
Tattered clothing and swollen knuckles, calloused palms
Yet still reaching
Reaching to guide and help yet another young life
Who still needed her strength
Their fingertips touching, left me wondering
Would she live long enough for him to grab hold?

©Donna Jones

Details | I do not know? | |

In Spirit

  She watches over them
Soon a grandmother to be


Details | Prose Poetry | |


God created hands for building things. Sometimes before you build something, you must first destroy something else.

Wildfires are never supposed to be put out. Their sole purpose is to burn the entire forest to the ground, transform living things to fertilizer, making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It is almost paradoxical, 
that there must be death before birth

My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection inside the pool of my best friends blood. An old student I used to tutor told me that I am the best brother she could have asked for
She said she will always love me
This was after I burned every bridge that traversed the gaps between us
Stared at her from across her desk
Told her that she will never be my sister. That our bloodlines will never match.
Our gene pools are just strangers that made the same wrong turn.
I spent so much time trying to find my way back that I never realized I was home in being lost I found something comfortable, without expectations. I only corrected myself after she spoke,
because I heard something familiar in her voice.
She sounded like family.

I have the scarred and wrinkled hands of a senior citizen
I’m only 22 years old
I once got my palm read
This gypsy woman told me that my lifeline should have been cut short when I hit 17.
That was a year ago.
What do gypsies know anyway
I have defied the odds my entire life.
Been broke down and built back up too many times to count
My fingernails chewed raw to the cuticle out of anxiety
I enjoy the taste of my own pain
Sometimes I use my own hands to destroy myself just to see who my real friends are who will build me back up when I can’t do it alone

My hands have a desire to learn how to cook, but I’m not that great.
So when I am alone,
I tend to be hungry, not just for food though.
I starve for someone to talk to
It never satiates, because it’s not you.
I know what it tastes like to completely give myself to someone.
My biggest fear is being abandoned.
When I look into your eyes, I am not afraid.
I need to cook you up a feast of myself, then feed it to you every day for the rest of our lives
Please tell me what I really taste like,
Be honest.

Years after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved into my aunt’s house.
Since I was 5, every time I speak to her she asks me:
“Spenser, did you thank God for waking you up today?”
I think to myself, I never did tell my eyes to open themselves. It just happened.
So I don’t know how to respond to her correctly.
I tell her that I love her, that I am writing a lot.
She tells me that she puts her hands together for me every night
Prays that I will get the job I want
I guess some prayers do get answered.
Sometimes two hands in the right position, matched with a conversation with God,
Can change things.
I even accidentally call that place home sometimes.

My dream is that my hands evolve into wolves, become part of a pack and work together with other hands to make a difference
Some days they will be the alpha male.
Full of confidence, at the head of the pack
Other days I need someone to show me the right way to go
Because if I’ve learned anything
It’s that I am not always right
I can not always be in control of everything
The only thing I have ever really wanted is to know
That my hands were truly
A part of something.

Details | Rhyme | |


A Grandmothers love is hard 
To explain

It is made up of joy sacrifice
And pain

A Grandmothers love is patient
And forgiving

And each moment with her
Makes life worth living

A Grandmothers love turns a
House into a home

And her beauty shines like a
Precious stone

A Grandmothers love will
Always touch your soul

A love so gentle Gods gift
To behold

Details | Elegy | |

A Vision

I see her pale white flowing gown,
her imagery, her frown,
her silver thinning hair,
her paper like wrinkled skin.

Feeling quite frightful,
but no overtaking fear,
of this vision floating through the air,
and not going in to despair.

Trying to awaken my consciousness,
for I must be comatosed,
surely I am not in the living world,
my head must be in the cloud's.

I wake up in a sweat,
not knowing what has just happened,
it all seems so surreal,
do I stand in judgement or appeal.

Piecing together my thought processes,
was it a dream or a reality,
wishing, thinking of my grandmother looking ocer me,
sending me a sense of peace and calm.

I will stay with that thought,
that beautiful vision,
of my grandmothers mission,
to deliver peace and harmony to a muddled head.

Details | Narrative | |

We Are There With You

You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home

5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.

Details | Rhyme | |

My Goodbye

This is for my grandma. She only has a few more weeks and I can't find any other way to put my feelings than this.

Heaven wants another angel tonight.
You feel that you lost, but you won this fight.
No pain or sorrow can keep you apart,
From what we think is the end but is really just the start.
I’ll miss you but let your heart be free.
The shadow of your presence I’ll feel in my sleep.
You’ll spend some time in a world above the sky,
While I’m the ground hearing echoes of goodbyes.
But we’ll meet again so soon,
I’ll see you in the light of the moon.
We’ll tell each other stories forever,
About the marvelous things we saw in the times not together.
I know heaven won’t wait for goodbyes,
But I love you,
And for now this is mine.

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


I was your first born grandchild, the first grandchild to know you.
40 years of time passed before I was born.
You gave life to six children, built a home for your family to grow.
Your children embarked on their own life journeys.
They went in many directions, spread from one coast to another.
But always drawn back to that, Sugar Shack.
40 years passed. I was born.
I spent my time with you grandma, learning all the things little girls should.
I remember the music, oh the music!
You played your piano, and I was awed.
I have never forgotten sitting with you on your piano bench.
The calm, the music, the pages of music turning.
Your fingers floating over the piano keys like magic.
Nor have I forgotten the stories passed on, letting me learn my heritage.
You told me where I get my love of horses from. To follow my dream, to work at the racetrack,
Encouraging me to follow it through.
You knew what path I wanted to follow - thank you for believing.
I remember the years with a smile, with tears in my eyes.
 The laughter, summer vacations.
Those years will never be forgotten, but held close to my heart. 
Grandma, only 40 years has passed since I was born. 
I thank you for every one of those years!

Details | Free verse | |


There's not much to say.
I knew her, know some things,
but certainly not all.

I know how little she put up with fools,
how her cooking surpassed so many others',
how simultaneously sweet and hard she could be.
I know about her smoking,
about her jewelry, her faith,
all these I'll hold close to me.

Every single spark, every star,
shines with such a glow, such a marvelous radiance,
that we can't gaze too closely at it,
lest we cause ourselves pain.
And yet, despite ourselves, again and again,
we do;
because it's not within us to resist
the sheer beauty of it all,
of stories and of life.

A bouquet of tulips for you.
We all miss you already, Grandma.
I miss you.
I know Heaven's got you, taking no guff as always,
making sure we're all doing alright.
I love you.
Andrew James (McGillicutty) Sprouse

Details | ABC | |

The Strongest Women I Know

Grandma means so much more then what it says in the dictionary.
It should say wise, intelligent, strong women.
Amazing, loving, and very kind hearted women.
The go to girl in times of trouble, get great advise, and just vent for hours.
She will be proud of you as long as you try your best, and she will tell you what direction to go when you fall on you ass.
My grandma is the best, the best in the world. Ill love her forever, then a little more.
I just want to say thank you for all that you have done.
I have loved every part of it. even though sometimes I was wrong.
Happy mothers day, Mamaw.
We need a grandmas day too, so the entire day can be just about you. 
I hope you have a good day, full of smiles and happiness.
I Love You, Mamaw and You Are The Bestest.

Details | Canzone | |



If tomorrow I’ll be late for a coffee to "The Greek"
Do not wait
Above Olympus of pain I make portrait of Mother
In the loneliness I knit nostalgic mosaic of Father's
To the Children we build together the statue of longing
Let we kiss a lot Grandmother but not let us kill the exile

If after tomorrow I will be absent for cappuccino to "The Italian"
Wait me a bit
To save desperation about homeland
I will ride crazy within Dante’s circles
While daughter of Tyro’s King wound words from haven
Kills me every day and Kosovo in daylight

If today again I’ll not come to “The new club”
Don’t think that I don’t want
But there are gossips, rumors and fog
And I pray for everyone, even for those who only speak Albanian
Wait me to the field of the church where our childhood suffering
To make toast of tears; why we haven’t had the beautiful youth age

Details | Free verse | |

Cloud Nine from an Asian Child

Hot jasmine tea
My grandmother liked to drink
Everyday at 10
While tending to ancient herbs and oriental spices
Before Day’s of our Lives
She never understood it but she liked it anyway
And after her afternoon nap
She always had an aroma like that unforgettable liquid
In the green bottle by her bed
While the rice cooks
Steaming white fluff
That chokes your throat when you swallow too fast
Floating along the rice there’s green things
I learned not to ask
You must clean your bowl
She said
Otherwise you’ll end up too skinny and get sick
When the sun hits your head

Eggrolls, plump and short
Loved to waddle around in fish sauce before it jumps into mouths
Just like the chickens with the head cut off that Bac Phoung
Plucked the feathers  off accompanying that sticky sweet smell of death
Like sweet cake and dumplings
Stolen from the wrapper
Left on the table that grandpa forgot to put away
Cousins come and go
Hugs and kisses, fights and shows
From 36 of us
We hold games and play with the hammock
Disciplined with chopsticks
We knew better then play Street Fighter all day
Though it’s happened once or twice

New Years is the best however
A dollar from each aunt or uncle
Lasts only but a day
Until the icecream man comes and we spend
Each and every dime
On Bullets, Tweety Shaped Popsicles and Lucas
Ninja turtles and Daffy Duck with bubblegum eyes

Details | List | |


Healthy dinner in minutes
Want to stir up mealtime
Try stir-fry simple, healthy and tasty
You need are the basics

Go for bold colors

Choose a fun mix of fav. Veggies
Carrots, broccoli
Bell peppers

Lean meat
Poultry, use enough to flavor dish
Tofu works as well

Flavor with minced garlic or ginger
Finish with soy sauce, hoisin sauce
Sweet and sour sauce


Details | Free verse | |

A Grandmother's legacy

Warming lights surround you
Quilting the sharp silence
Outside dawn begins
Earth starts stretching 
Straightening out the knots
Caught from hours of slumber
Night moves on to blacken another sky
And Calmness stills the room
All is as it should be

As you drift in an endless sleep
I know not if you'll wake
Or lay your eyes on me once 
Softening my heavy heart
As death appears, he waits by 
your side
Head dipped in respect
White and gold robes I study of him
I beg him for more time
An hour, a day, a second 
His comforting eyes say no
It is your time and my heart stills
Now I must let you go

Aged hands under silken skin
Once tended plants and raised children
Loose their warmth
A last breath escapes your 
I look at death pleadingly 
But nothing can be done
I have to let you go now
You must do this alone

Death picks up your soul up as 
an orb
Glittering like a large diamond
To ferry you to your kin
I see them through the void 
I see them waiting

never again will we sit on the 
As dew wakes up the grass
Trees shacking off the night before
Us, just being us
I'd soak up your wisdom
That resided in your soul
Every snippet a precious gem to me
Id bury them within
Where no other could reach them
Where no other could steal them

I show no tears
As they only fuel pain
From a young age
You taught me to be brave
Knowing my life would shatter 
Often I'd feel pain
So your compassion carried me
Over potholes and rocky paths
Your soothing voice steadied 
Till I made it safely past

Now Laying out your body
Ready for your last journey
I wonder if I told you enough
The love I have for you
I was blessed everyday 
You were in my life
Things seemed easier 
With you at my side 
Life was not so daunting
The hill was not so steep
Now you gone I'm shattered
Watching an endless sleep

Time with you was precious
For this truth I smile 
The mirror reflects parts of you 
Placed in this heart of mine
Happy you left peacefully 
And I was at your side
Inner gladness reigns 
As not just your jam recipe
Was handed down to me

Details | Lyric | |


A mother's love is so strong it has to come from above, for it takes a special 
Heart to do what she can do.

A mother's love is so deep when she cries out the whole world should weep.

A mother can go through so much pain and still remain sain.

A mother can bear children come home from the hospital, cook, wash, take 
Care of her child, kiss her husband and still wear a smile.

A mother has compassion and feeling that are so strong she can even tell 
When something is wrong.

A mother is a single mother who is struggling to carry both roles, we give 
You a "shout" out because that's a heavy load.

A mother is a grandmother who is still moving strong, she continues to love, 
Nurture, and care for the young.

A mother is so many special things that god created wrapped up into one.

So " remember" to show her love all the time, and tell her what a fine job she 
Has done!

Happy mother's day to all the mother's out there and may god continue to 
Bless you all!

Details | Free verse | |

My grandma

My grandma

I see her
Seating on her bed
Pillows propped with cotton
Circling her like witches
Around a cauldron pot
Her skin glowing
From her light within.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Grandmother's Prayer

I'll pray you strength, to face each coming day
when things aren't going as right as they could,
to tear down walls, when walls get in the way
of knowing life is going as it should;

I'll pray you light, so your dear heart can see
all through your life, your journey's not alone,
and so the night's not dark as it could be
in troubled times, as every life has known;

I'll pray you love, so love will take your hand,
so you can feel love is the plan for you,
and when it's done, your heart will understand
just what it means to love one, as I do.

I'll pray you have the wisdom God can give
and all His love, as long as you shall live.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Rhyme | |

White ghosts in Granny's kitchen

it started for me and my grandma always 
on those rare  but special Saturdays
the grandmother and granddaughter festival of preparations 
for Sunday's after-church celebrations

the backing of the best  cinnamon-sugar -cake
grandma's and my quality time to bake
we talked and shared our secrets of life
I was even allowed to use her sharpest bread knife

just the two of us throwing remaining pounce  
creating our beautiful and beloved  floury gowns
laughing loud with tears all over our white faces 
and countless most heartfelt warm embraces

cleaning the antique black and green kitchen was another highlight
as well as the two missing slices for our well-deserved sneaky bite
grandma's great excuse: the cake broke into two 
our secret two-disappearing-slices-of-cake coup 

all those emptied flour sacks we could never hide
were  transformed into something itchy, white and wide
I wore them always with the hugest possible smile
despite and thanks to the formless but exclusive floury white-ghosts style

©Ellie Daphne

PS. She did not give me 'just' h e r recipe for this great cake but also her recipe for 
my life..................

Details | Epitaph | |


written 28th oct 2012

You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us 
  an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace  
The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen 
 hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived
For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd 

We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us 
 having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us
It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart
 Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart

God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start
 we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around
But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around
 just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us
We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us,
 although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never
You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever...
   the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild....
                                  "Angel" 2012

Details | Light Poetry | |


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.

Details | 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

Details | Ode | |

A Letter for Gram

Buried in an imprisoning casket
but never forgotten through
the past fifteen years.
I love you now more than ever
and your strength has embraced
my sorrow and guilt!

I love you so much, Gram
and you are greatly missed!
You are my support that
gets me up a large flight
of stairs and a calmness when
I feel overcrowded and overwhelmed
by life's challenges, pitfalls,
destruction, pain, and insecure discontent!

I truly owe my soul to you!
Thank you so very much 
for all you have been and
will be in my life.

You are the lighthouse that flickers its
illuminating light to guide me home,
even though I am a million miles
away from reality.

Love Always, Julie

c2013 Julie Rasley

Details | Narrative | |

Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.

Details | Free verse | |

Grandpa's Collage

Grandpa’s collage holds beloved memories.
Black-and-white photographs of long ago
strewn with tape and paste amid the glossy 
snapshots, shaping a man's love of family.
At first glance, one would think he created 
his patchwork of pictures in haste. But come, 
look closer; no image is placed by chance. 
Each scene shares a story his hands retraced - 
a joke, a kiss, a tear. See the toothless grins
of growing grandchildren with playful eyes, 
the knowing looks of elders and the effortless
laughter of generations, dear faces missed.
All familiar faces except for only one - 
the intruder with graceful features. Head held high, 
she wears her smile unfazed. I search her dark eyes 
for words unsaid, dazed. She is the grandmother
I never knew. Her portraits are puzzle pieces
that will never fit, but ones I cannot unglue 
or ignore; my grandpa’s attempt of tying us 
to a stranger. I love him more for trying…

For Craig Cornish's A Collage Held Dear Contest,


Details | Sonnet | |

A granny I might be

A granny I might be

A granny I might be
But I can always see
My hair is growing grey
My shape is quite okay

I still love my fashion
I guess it’s still my passion
I always look quite smart and dressy
And very rarely I look messy.

I’m older, but I'm still a lassie
Sometimes me, I do look classy
I would not change a single day
Not ever, not in any way.

How the years they will turn out
Well who knows, I’ll wait that out.

Vera Duggan 13 September 2014

Details | Couplet | |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's Pearls

Grandma passed along her string of pearls to me.
I knew I've been entrusted with a special gift from her.
Nothing but pride crossed my mind that day.

Taking her pearls from its box, I still feel her love,
Whether it was tender or tough,
It was done with the intent
On making me feel pride within myself.

Grandma cherished her pearls for most of her life.
This was her 'Pearl of Wisdom' she passed down to me,
"Pearls are classy enough for a fancy affair
Or just a simple dinner out.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend,
But don't get between me and my pearls.
The attachment is for life, it's beauty knows no age."
Every time I put on her string of pearls, I still giggle.


Details | Free verse | |

My name is Catastrophe

Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a 
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness. 
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to 
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.   
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.

Details | Verse | |

Treasures Of Your Soul

~~ A lonely little girl lost and frightened of the world, I knew only of sorrow, tears and death; I hid myself in the tangle of my hair and refused to talk; Hugging my only friend and companion, a doll, Then Grandma took me under her wings and changed my life. In an attic room, I cried and cried . . . We would sit in her sunny kitchen with the teapot, From fine china cups we would sip and dunk; She told me stories of the past, of people I did not know; I watched her lips and her changing expressions, And inside of me a seed was planted, a gift given. She gave me a writing journal and my own pen, Write me a story was her only request; And in my sweet attic room, I wrote and wrote, At the kitchen table she would read my stories, Grandma saved my life, slowly I found my little voice. She is my treasure and when she died my heart broke, I will never forget the kindness and gifts given; She took a broken child and gave her the skill of words; A grandma, a muse, an angel that watches over me. Now in a peaceful cemetery I read her stories that I write. In an attic room, I cried and cried . . . ___________________ August 10, 2013 Verse For the contest, Treasures Of Your Soul, Gail Angel Doyle

Details | I do not know? | |


Dazzled by the sizzling beauty
Of  butterflies
I plodded through
Th saloon of the flowers and flies.
I reached a
Narrow dusty path.
Now the garden 
Is an unclear dot behind me.
Its trying to attract me
To its inclosure of magic
But I cannot enjoy
These flickering happiness
Which lasts half a second.
I have to reach the love
Which is lullubies for me
I have to reach my grandmom
Who waits for me
With her affectional eyes.
I have to be in her caring hand
Where I find relief.
Its dark around me.
The sky turned fearful black.
My vicinity grown 
Into a dreadful ebony.
The terror in me
Set its music.
 The tears in myeyes
That aimed at the ground
Began to outflow.
I shrank to the edge
Of  the track.
Suddenly the lilt
Of  sorrow and pain
Was removed by the new music.
That’ s the flying sound of butterflies.
Those seem to be 
The footsteps of my love granny.
That sound is nearing me .
The soft hands of  grandmommy 
Clutched me to her
And her guarding hand 
Wiped my tears .
I am in my destination
I am in the ardour
For which I waited.    

Details | Free verse | |

Understanding Grandma

With one stocking up and the other rolled down
the old lady waddled her way to town.
Her flowered dress sported stains of breakfast.
Her hair was matted, like a birds nest.
Lipstick circled her lips, like a circus clown.
The painted smile veiled depression and a frown.

While quizzically looking up at her face,
the small boy clutching her hand tried to keep pace.
As she shuffled her way down main street,
she chatted with anyone she chanced to meet.
Often she would point with pride 
to small boy by her side

As the boy grew older, he began wondering
why she couldn’t tell they were pretending.
Couldn’t she hear their humoring lies?
Couldn’t she see the laughter in their eyes?
Couldn’t she sense the embarrassment in the air?
Perhaps she couldn’t care? Perhaps she wasn’t aware?

Being locked in a child like state
may not be the worst fate,
Because children can make up places
where there are no staring faces.

Details | Elegy | |

Treasures of my soul

The dear lost Grandmother
While roaming through my Memories
And thinking through and through 
And Trying and Remembering 
My First memory was You

A Withered frame once held your face
And transferred to my hand
Your backdrop gave angelic grace
My own image wet

So as I laid in feverish dreams
Without hope to live 
And just as soon as crisis cleared
I saw you in my sleep

I know you showed Idealism
Truly frivolous at Heart
Without a speck of Realism
And Debts stretched Far Apart

Your thoughts still glowed Very Bright
Complex Ideas flowed
And so with Great Illustrious light
Your Acumen had Grown

Dad knew your hair shone Flaxen
Your Eyes Great skies of Blue
Although there was no way
He could have known you

You die when he was still a Babe
Three months to be Precise
And Yet to him you still remain
Great Vision to His eyes

Soon after giving Birth to him
Or so I am told
You’ve fallen deathly mortally ill
While waiting in the Cold

And Patiently you waited
For One to take you home 
Just as my Father stated
The wait was just Too Long

It placed on you a dangerous strain
With Consequence Severe
With you receiving so late
We lost your Being dear

I wish he could Prolong your stay
But yet this isn’t true
And while You in Heaven lay
I always think of you

Details | Lyric | |

In Memory

She lay upon her bed of pain;
The chrysalis grew dull and gray;
The colors which we knew as her
Were fading fast, so fast, away;
But, underneath the fragile clay,
We saw new colors burning through
Of soul triumphant in its flight
Approaching Glory's avenue.
It seemed we heart her spirit groan,
Her frail flesh tremble 'neath the weight
Of wings fast-pulsing with new life
And yearning for the Infinite.

She's free! Her dewy wings soft-dried
By hovering angel's gentle breath
Have lifted once, now twice they stir
And find the air: can this be death?

Details | Rhyme | |

In Loving Memory Of My Grandma

 Hold your head up, Grandma would say
 and let me pull your hair from your face.
 Stand up tall and properly, for a lady
 it should look as though it comes naturally.

 Oh Grandma, I would say. I just want to go
 and with the boys play. I want to fish and 
 shoot marbles too and maybe some baseball,
 if Bobby doesn't come too.
 Who is Bobby, she said. Just a boy who doesn't 
 like girls who with their brothers hang. 
 Well maybe Bobby is right and a lovely girl
 such as you, shouldn't be talking such slang.

 I long to be where the boys are for they have
 so much fun, it beats cooking and knitting
 silly hats and gloves. Give it time and you
 will see, she said, that being a lady is what
 God has meant for you to be.

 I would lay awake each night as I grew and I
 dreamed of the places my brothers seen
 and Bobby too. I always knew when they were
 to return home for most often it was when the
 cherry blossoms scented the lawn.

 Then there came that Spring day when all of them
 came home late, but all I could see was
 Bobby standing at gate.
 My heart did flutter and my cheeks, I knew were
 flushed. I never knew I had also missed Bobby
 just as much.

 It has been 4 years now and I still wear Bobby's ring and
 two beautiful children that in cherry blossoms we play.
 I often think back to what Grandma said and I understand
 now every word that still echo's in my head . 
 I think Grandma's have an inside tip
 for she already knew the plan, before I did.

 I will always love you Grandma.

Details | Ode | |

Dream Walking

In the small town of Campbell Missouri,
A young girl with lovely brown locks
Sits, having been told she might never walk again
As all aknowledge this belief in town,
A fear swept around, 
And many children were kept down

But in the spirit of this child,
Desire to walk snuck over her fears
Perhaps she wished to surprise-
Perhaps she could not stand
The judgmental eyes-but all the same, 
She picked herself up, smiled,
And sauntered around the room

Happiness pervaded the house
As the family friend, delighted,
Sang merrily the song,
“Have You Ever Seen a Dream Walking?”

Today, at California Mission Inn,
The same girl, now a woman
Walks her glorious walk
With confidence and grace
She is 91 years old and strong
As song,
Her eyes lighting up as she recalls
She hums the dreamy tune
As I jot down miracles 

Details | Senryu | |


Drift into the depths.
Submerged you are beyond sight,
But you are still here.

Details | Free verse | |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.

Details | Epic | |


Loading up the car, on a trip that’s not to far..
to Grand-mommy’s house!
We head up 75, it’s such a lovely drive..
to Grand-mommy’s house!
“Are we there yet?” “Almost, we’re getting really close”..
to Grand-mommy’s house!
On Francis Street we turn, sweet thoughts of past trips return..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

Feelings hard to hide, knowing the joy inside..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
The “I love greetings”, Ah, pressure and stress is fleeting..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Warm hugs and kisses, from the Mr. and the Mrs..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Place your bags in the back, time to enjoy a dinner snack..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Pork sandwiches and tea, something special just for me..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Sweat aroma fills the air, to the sunroom.. pick your chair..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

Talks from the past, wonderful memories that last..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Funny stories are told, wow, it never gets old..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Wisdom to teach, in a way that’s always in reach..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Kindness and care, so much affection to share..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

When you’ve had to much to eat, you’ll still want a treat..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Chocolate cake and pie, you’ll want both.. don’t lie..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
To the bathroom to wash your face, so many hearts, lips, love, and lace..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
You’ll wash both your hands, by the light of the lipstick stand..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

So much more to say, and many games to play..
at Grand-mommy’s house! 
The Weather Channel’s on mute, Granddaddy thinks we’re cute..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
It’s getting kind of late, time with the cousins has been great..
 at Grand-mommy’s house!
When you’re feeling beat, head to the second den for some sleep..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

At midmorning we awake, there’s no schedule on the slate..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Smell those biscuits piping hot, oh.. we like them a lot..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Come into the kitchen, to see all that Grand-mommy’s fixin’..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
She’s wrapped in Granddaddy’s arms, there’s so much love and charm..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

Warm hands to hold, you’re always treated like gold..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
Love, faith, and trust, spoiling grandkids is a must..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
You’ve helped us all to see, just how good life can be..
at Grand-mommy’s house!
My Grandparent’s endless love, is a gift from God above..
at Grand-mommy’s house!

Written from my child's perspective of their longing to go to Grand Mommy's house which for me will always be, "Home Sweet Home!"

Details | I do not know? | |

Grandmother's Kindness

G is for Giving
R is for Respect
A is for Always There
N is for Necklaces
D is for Dementia
M is for Mine
O is for Organ Player
T is for Thankful
H is for Hair Dresser
E is for Elegant
R is for Raised Six Children
So Unselfish

Important to her family
Never played favorites 
Sewed for her Children 
Spread her Love

Details | Haiku | |

Heaven Scent

scented lavender was pressed between thin parchment.... sent beyond the grave
For Charlotte's Contest: "Creative Haiku" 9/20/14

Details | Couplet | |

Dear Rapunzel

It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.

It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.

It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.

Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.

Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.

They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.

Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.

Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.

Details | Free verse | |

For An Abused Child

If I Could Have Gotten Your Embryo
Before You Were Born
I Would Have Sheltered You Safely
and Protected Your Form ...

I'd Have Put You In My Womb
& Flowed You Knowledge Like In A Tubric
& Patted My Expanding Belly
As I Played You Music

And As You Got Ready
To Arrive From The Birth Canal
You Would've Known My Breasts
Would Be Ringing Like Welcome Bells! ...

Eager To Suckle You
Breast Feed My Own Flesh & Nourish
So You Could Grow Strong
... In Love's Encourage

I Would've Held You In Wonder
& So Close Tenderly
Amazed At This Little Bundle,
Breathing, Piece of Me ...

And When You Turned One
Or As You Sucked Your Thumb
Or Eating Baby Food Jars of Plums
... I'd Have Given You Trumpets & Drums

... And Building Alphabet Blocks
& Superman Capes
& Stuffed Teddy Bears
& Oatmeal Cookies & Grapes

I'd Have Read You Stories
From Capt. Adventure Books
You'd Have Known You Were Loved
By My Proud Mama Looks

I'd Have Spent Time With You
Showing You How To Tie Your Shoe
Rocked You If You Caught The Flu
or Any Sniffles You Went Through ...

I Would Have Played With You
& Prayed With You
From Crawling To Walking
Paved The Way For You

Yeah, I Would Have Fussed At You
& When Needed Even Spanked You Too
& I'd Meant: This Hurts Me More Than You
'Cause You're The Little Symbiot, Mama Grew

So, You Would Have Known
You Were Loved & Treasured
You Would Have Known
Your Worth Couldn't Be Measured

Nor Compared To Anyone Else
At Any Point In Time
'Cause You Are The Best
Because You Were "Mine"

* * * * * * *

But I Never Knew You
But Believe Me If I Had ...
I'd A Made Sure You Had 
A Loving Mom & Dad

And You Would've Never Been Abused
Or Treated Bad ...
But From Now On Find Your Joy
To Replace What's Sad

            Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/12/2013 
             by:  MoonBee Canady

Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...

(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .

The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "

Details | Narrative | |

Don't Leave Me

I can't imagine being alive without you
I can't imagine what it will be like when your gone
I don't know what I'll become without you
Maybe I'll just run
Run away from everything and leave everyone behind
Maybe I'll find a way to be close to you
Because I won't believe you died 
My heart will ache so much more 
Tears will always run
My eyes will hold the wisdom 
That you bestowed upon me young
And my recklessness will be noticeable
People will wonder why
Why am I running when the person I needed most died
How can I face my life when I can't do anything right
I won't believe you have gone away
When God decides to take you
I'll still come by your house and always expect an answer
I Love You Gamma
You Taught Me About My Heritage  
Please Remember Me When God Takes You
Please Guide Me In the Right Way

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

To My Mother and Grandmother And In The Memory Of My Deceased Grandmother Jiesteira

Pure Love
Enthusiasm, Excitement, Zeal
Passion, Love, 
Cholera, Anger, Wrath, Fury
Deep dedication

Details | Narrative | |

A Genuine Memory of Love

Wish I could rewind the hands of the clock,
Only love songs with you I'll slowly rock.
There's many things I didn't get to say,
You left me & gone on a rainy day.

I still didn't give you that gift,
Just once more in my arms, you I wished I'd lift.
Your many attributes & words I did admire,
Like Jesus is the only way to escape Hell's fire.

A granny so awesome you showed that you care,
And a strong shoulder needed you were always there.
Teach all daily to do what's right,
And there's victory for us if we unite.

How can I forget whenever you call,
A short prayer was said for me & all.
I'm ever thankful for your blessings & love,
I'm guilty for not giving you what you deserve.

Through grief & pain you were holding strong,
Still hoping your days on earth were more long.
But you will always stay deep in my heart,
Because of the great things to me you taught.

"Don't trod the road that's broad & wide",
I'm trying hard so I'll see you on the other side.
Surely you're up there looking down,
With flowers, white dress & a golden crown.

Details | Concrete | |

Egg Money

             sat on the
          back porch, in
      crates, destined for
    market.  Grandmother
  carefully hand-washed &
 dried each egg.  When she
had  tallied  several  dozen,  
they were taken to the store 
in  town, which also passed 
as gas station & post office.
 For her, it was a bit more
   than a  trip to sell eggs;
    it was a time to visit,
      gossip & perhaps 
         choose a new


Details | Narrative | |

Puzzled Pieces

It was a dazzling day.
In the park where we gathered.
I watched the sprinkler spray.
Whilst Oleander got lathered.

A pierce of minty laughter.
Came from my mother.
The day, now full swelter.
Brought mephitic curses, from father.

My mother,
A piece, of distinct edges, shapes, and color.
My Father’s piece,
Gossamer... A ghost in the Parlor.

My aunt buzzes ‘round,
Looking to peck.
Her greatest skill,
Tearing wealth from flesh.

She is an ugly thing,
Constantly tithing kin.
Her tabs busted,
Only darkness within.

My uncle walks water,
Crying divine inspired droll.
Then he sees foreign breasts,
And his eyes start to roll.

He is piously loathsome,
A delusional winner.
His piece, contrasting color,
A chronic Casanova of a sinner.

My grandmother sits,
By a row of briar’s.
From here smelling sweet,
Closer and the peril gets dire.

She is a dandy,
Addicting to be around.
But when her corner piece shows,
It can cut to the ground.

My grandfather rests,
In the middle, on a bench.
The tether that keeps,
We are bolts, He is wrench.

His piece.....
To us much renowned.
His piece is the core,
It holds me around.

There it is, my family puzzle.
And on the fringes I sit.
See, I’m an edge piece,
That doesn’t quite fit.
With my teeth on a muzzle.


Details | Free verse | |


God bless little angels brought unto me,
Watch over them beneath heavens grace.
My first of seven blessings most precious gift,
Treasures hearts keepsakes.
Number one the oldest, my rocker baby,
Dancing away with musics sweet lullaby.
The lyrical light of brilliance’s, a shinning note,
That strums across grandma's heart strings.
The second child is a testament to patience,
No instructions came with this wonder
Or warning labels tattooed upon her backside.
But she has the eyes of an angel and lord knows,
She try's my beliefs but I'll never give up the fight .
I love my problem child just the same.
The third times the charms, she is that for sure,
With brown eyes and a kewpie doll with dark curls.
Our grand daughter bubbles, whom can light up the
Darkest moment with just a simple smile.
The fourth grace is he, full of strength and daring,
A future NFL first draft pick this is my little RJ,
Patton had his tank and believe you me, Me maw
Has hers.
Diamonds are the hardest stones known to man,
But this boy sparkles with a shine more valuable,
Then gold.
Fifth in line is wisdom and charm, explorations
Future astronaut.
With curiosities wondering eye, but ahead of
The pack in any game of life.
My youngest grand son Issac his name means,
Laughter and joy and in this it is so true.
Tiny but mighty is my little Bella,
With dark raven hair, she has her fathers eyes,
And mommy's brave spirit.
She'll take on the world someday.
And win by all hands clapping her on,
Me Maw's future Mrs. America.
Seven was born on grandma's birthday,
A special gift given unto me is my darling,
Who knows what the future will hold for thee,
But seven has always been my lucky number,
So sky's the limit with this the youngest blessing,
In my life.

1.  The blessings gift is music.
2. The second blessings gift mischief and curiosity.
3.  The third blessings gift beauty's sweet smile
4. The four blessings gift strength and endurance.
5.  The fifth blessings gift wisdom and charm. 
6.  The sixth blessings gift is a brave spirit.
7. The seventh blessings gift is lucks true fortune.
And when you add up all my many blessing,
What does a grandmother receive a full heart,
Hugs and kisses at bedtime.
Good night my little angels and sleep tight.
I'll re-sight my many blessings in my prayers, 
Tonight as I lay myself asleep and dream of thee.


Details | Sonnet | |

Lost time

I was just a child of four with not much to say
But I enjoyed the times I went next door to stay
You were so sick in bed and didn't feel quite well
But you were strong and played with me so I could never tell

You body was full of cancer you were very ill
But whenever I saw you, you'd smile and I'd sit still
I'd climb next to you on your bed, I wouldn't wiggle
I saw the sparkle in your eyes and sometimes we would giggle

I'd love to sit and dress up in your necklaces and hats
Pretend I was a princess while you would just lay back
I was too young to know how sick you really were
You never ever let on, you let me play, a lot was just a blur

As I grew I was told you loved the time we shared
I wish that you were never sick and knew how much I cared.

Details | Burlesque | |


Her Smile can light up a room , Her presense is of grace , her opinions are heard without one word , but by the look upon her face , her touch is so gentle , her heart is as big as the moon, her spirit is kindhearted , & as warm as a summer afternoon , Her hair a river of grey , Her eyes radiant as the sun , Her kisses are soft , her hugs preferred from all the rest, my granny is mine forever and ever & she'll always be the best.

Details | Free verse | |

First Love

Outside the sterile nursery I stood,
looking in.
So many snuggly swaddled newborns asleep in little plastic cribs;
my eyes hungered for only one . . .

A nurse was bathing you,
removing the remnants of the nest that formed you.
Her face filled with wonder and adoration.
"Is this one yours?"
Soundless question behind glass . . .
"So beautiful!"

I had watched your head crown between your mother's legs;
rapt . . . awaiting the first glimpse of your face.
A mass of wet black curls and then your eyes;
you were born and I was smitten!
Unexpected, the rush of brand new love I did not know existed.

First grandchild!
You opened the door to a different world,
love wild and fierce,
protective and totally absorbed.

Four more times that door has opened,
love's arrow piercing my heart . . .
when you hurt,  the pain twists  within me.

You are the soul sunshine I crave,
my grandchildren.

September 18, 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

In the wee small hours of the past and present

stone by stone flagstones
form an unsmooth shiny garden path
between the sidewalk and home
I walked that path never alone

a tottering toddler tumbles and climbs
not for the first time these challenging stairs
warmly welcomed by his great granny
love is in the air more than plenty 

I'm watching my mother and  my son
again another warm long heart-to-heart hug
I inhale their intimate closeness
I sense their eternal bonding osmosis 

bridging the temporal and the eternal 
while kneeling at the small gray tombstone 
hearts and souls are touched by flourishing rose petals 
again the intimate eternal bond nestles

while sharing memories she's so near by
we both can hear her bright burst of laughter
a quarter of a century later
an eternal triad could not be greater

©Elly Wouterse

Written in memory of my beloved mother  and grandmother for our eldest son,  one day before his 27th birthday. 

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma Aesop's Apples - Finale

Grandmother pointed out warning signs on the apples.
Her strong voice resonated as she referenced bruises and marks.
Her wrinkled hands brushed over minute holes and obvious incisions.
She clutched the apples in her weather-worn palms
without uttering a single word.

She carefully lifted each apple to her nostrils
and then began discarding them respectively into the two bushels.
By days end, both bushels were full.
I softly said...
"What shall I do now with my bushel, Grandmother?"
She laughed and kissed me on my cheek whispering...
"We shall bring them back to Grandma's kitchen.
We will then transform these delectable fruits into an exquisite pie.

A pie pleasant to the nostrils.
A pie warm and sweet to your tongue.
A pie brilliant to behold and soothing 
to your little tummy and giant heart.
A pie that will make my grandson feel happy and content inside.
A pie baked with love and truth and honesty".

And I replied..."And what are you going to do with your bushel, Grandma?"
"Well, my dear,
I will OVERTURN my bushel and THROW these apples OUT!" – 
she dramatically replied.
"For they are bad and serve no purpose in my kitchen."

It's been many years later, my dearest one.
And late this evening I have been reviewing our union.
I fetched myself a writing tablet and a pen.
I leafed to a clean page where I then assembled two bushels.
To the left hand side of the page I situated your Advantage bushel.
The right hand side of the page underscored your Disadvantages.

I began to think as Grandmother would.
A keen eye for detail and clarity
whispered her loving observations into my ears
like an invisible windsong.

By midnight,
the blank page was now devoid of it's once white canvas.
I looked at the bushel to the left -
then quietly stared at the bushel to my right.
The bushel to the right was sated
whereas the bushel to the left was sadly barren and almost empty.

I reviewed the two bushels a final time.
I took a deep breath and 
gently placed my pen and tablet atop my writing table.
My dearest one,
although you're not here tonight -
I realized my life 
needs to have the bad apples banished.
I silently apologized to you 
as I picked up the bushel to the right
and without uttering a single word -

I finished my last fork full of apple pie 
and switched off the light.
I shed a solemn teardrop that bore your name
puffed up my pillows
gently overturned the bushel

and contentedly

threw you out.

Details | Free verse | |


Up in that old attic are an antic Raggedy Ann Doll and a rocking chair well used by my grandmother.
Grand she was and as great as she to be; she instilled value and principality.

Up in that attic is an old Raggedy Ann Doll and an antic rocking chair my great grandmother rock from.
Short in statue but tall in her stance, my great grandmother guidance departed wisdom.

In that attic is all kind of memories of how my great grandmother and I loved each other as family.
Friends bonded and she as a life-long mentor, in that old attic resides expressive art.

In a far corner that was east to the sun stood a portrait of my great grandmother.
Knowledgeable was the face with eyes of hazel brown painted at the age of seventy-five (75). 
The reminiscence of youth is a mural seen as I sat down in the rocking chair thinking… (“Mama, let’s read The Bible together.”)   

In this old attic is love unknown because of the time I had with my great grandmother before she was beacon home.

Details | Epic | |

HISTORICAL MOMENT: Freedom For Mary Linton

The bowl movement of Ms. Liberty
is black history month.
We're forced-fed information from tissue   she wiped
from back to front... Did you cringe?
Me too, but knowing my great, great, great, 
Great grandmother was traded for an ass
births a rebel with a cause. 
I'm engraving your name, Mary Linton,
upon this axe that I'm using to sever those chains
attached to your name.

No more date-rape from master, who loves you
with a love equivalent to an ass. 
I want you to know that our stock has risen and split.
Martin Luther the dreamer, became prophet,
this guy named Obama inaugurated on the steps
built by your fellow-slave comrades.
That's receiving retroactive pay, bills of total vindication,
giving change in mockery minted coins.
They couldn't have foreseen as slaves that they were constructing 
a pedestal for the promised Land, their situation wasn't  looking
so promising.

But in 2008 granny, the lord split the sea again.
We're not just second class citizens either, thanks
to genetics, we annihilate anything you mix us with, 
the proof is in our last name.
I want to strut in the afterlife with your head held high.
The blood you have shed, it inks my pen redeeming your value. 
Your grandson, came to repurchase your deed. 
You are a Lady, and you are freed
from being sold by animals for an animal!

* I Seen a pic of you, before the mule swapped places!

Details | Rhyme | |


My friend (Brandy) 
Got some candy, 
From her mother (ma) .

My friend (Brandy) 
Got more candy, 
from her brother (Bro) .

My friend (Brandy) 
Got lots of candy, 
From her grandpa (Pa) .

She got a tooth ake
Is it a mistake! ! ? ? 

Details | Rhyme | |


Joanna was the prettiest child with a fair freckled face,
reddish curly hair and a pair of big emerald eyes 
that sparkled with the purest sweetness and innocence...
and today still blessed with beauty, she shines! 

We resemble a lot in looks by letting modesty be our main virtue, 
and hadn't mother constantly taught us those godly, honest 
ways and equal love for everybody, we wouldn't ever exist
in such a false, uncaring world that has no rewards to accrue. 

Mother of two bright kids, and grandmother of four boys...
Joanna is their inspiration, and quite often she spoils them with toys,
but don't all grandmothers love those adorable toddlers...
when they quickly run to them, falling down and getting up at once?  

I am very thankful and lucky to have this kindhearted sibling
who shares my same qualities and desire for a happy living;
we both value life and show warmth instead of being cold...
haven't I walked side by side with a sister highly adored? 

Details | Sonnet | |

To hear you again

Set child, listen to your elder's story                                                                          often as you can for we are but men                                                                               A time to live a time to die sorely                                                                                   in life to always do good, my friend:                                                                      Written books are ink and pen, by a hand                                                                       So harken more to do the good, when told                                                                 Living letters never to hold again                                                                                   is far better to hear a voice of old:                                                                                for prose can write anything to get their way                                                                  living histories of the feelings told                                                                                     are fading, grows from youth to old but stay;                                                                  before you pass a place you can not go                                                                          To heed my grandmother's words, I said no                                                                      always to do good I fail but I know

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma Aesop's Apples - Overture

My dearest one -
you oft traversed my well tended garden.
A panacea I personally created
to massage your ailing id.
A garden similar to the wondrous patchworks
found in Eden.

A recreational playground
of neatly lined tree varietals.
Peach, fig, pear and apple trunks -
are surrounded by the glory of lilac bushes
scores of majestic dahlias,
and a plethora of multi-colored hibiscus.

My grandmother taught me many things,
my dearest one.

When I was knee high to her apron hem -
she wrapped me up 
within a hatful of stars -
sprinkled with
magic and miracles and morals.
These were her gifts to my soul,
my mind
and my heart.

Without ribbons or bows,
she filled my senses
with a cornucopia of brilliance and logic.
She passed unto me
the precious gifts of observation and decision.

She taught me about apples.

Grandmother guided me through her prized orchard one misty morn.
She held two bushels in her trembling hands.
She extended one of them towards me and said -
"Take this my sweetheart and follow me
for you shall learn something very important today."

She lovingly cooed..."We have two bushels.
One is for Good and the other for Bad."
She continued to liltingly sing..."Apples are like relationships.
There are Good ones and there are Bad."

"However, one should understand and determine 
the signs between the two
and separate them accordingly."

Details | I do not know? | |

The Women

The Women

(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)

Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.

They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.

You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.

You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.

You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.

Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.

I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.

I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.

I salute you!

(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)

Details | Rhyme | |

Light as a feather


Gam-ma and baby were spending the day.
Looking for ways to laugh and to play!

Baby said Gam-ma I want to dance!
Twirl me PLEEEASE, will you give it a chance?

Gam-ma said, “baby, it has been too long:
Since I have danced, let’s just sing a song”!

Oh twirl me Gam-ma, twirl me PLEEEASE!
Oh twirl me Gam-ma, just like the breeze!

You can sing a song as we twirl around.
Oh pretty PLEEEASE  Gam-ma, we won’t fall down!

So around and around, Gam-ma and baby twirled together.
Till the room was spinning, and they were as light as a feather!

Gam-ma stopped so that she and baby could rest.
But baby said “twirl again, oh PLEEEASE” she pressed!

We need to rest Gam-ma desperately said.
We need to rest, as she held tightly her head!

PLEEEASE, PLEEEASE, sweet baby cried.
Again and again, sweet baby sighed! 

So around and around, Gam-ma and baby twirled together.
Till the room was spinning, and they were light as a feather! 

While singing a song they both wiggled and jiggled.
Twirling around, Gam-ma and baby laughed and giggled!

Written for my sweet Karaline 3-30-14
Stacey Brown

Details | Ode | |

Grandma Hearts Grandma

I never met Grandpa
so I do not know
if he ever went dancing
or stubbed his toe.
But I do know
one thing-
Grandma loved him.

And Grandma died
when was in 8th grade.
So we didn't talk
I am afraid.
But I do know
one thing-
Grandpa loved her.

Details | Light Poetry | |


they talk to you
and raise you too
there at your side
when mother tell lies
they or wises
theyer like  others

Details | Free verse | |

the story of my life

When i was about 5 i was put in to a SRS. I was there tell i was 7 and when i got out i move to my grandma and grandpa. When i was 9 my older brother started to beet me up every day and all day long and then when the beating he was giving me stop working he started doing other thing to me. When i was 12 i losted my grandma and then my grandpa didn't want nothing to do with use and still don't. i took my brother *****tell i was 15 then started to beat on him. My brother put me in jail for a few year because if the *****he made me do now i am 21 and have losted and got back the girl that i love and care about her name is Holli Sczenski. Her family don't want use together so they are making her choose between them or me she dues not want to have to choose between use she loves use both and i know it and her family know it but there still doing it. On top of all that my own family is going throw somethings as while my mom is not doing vary good and we may or may not lost her in the next few years.

Details | Light Poetry | |

The Best Pie Baker

Grandma was the best at baking pies. 
That was a fact nobody denies. 
Apple, rhubarb, sweet potato, cherry, 
pumpkin, pecan, and don't forget blueberry. 
In the kitchen, grandma could be found. 
Her fresh-baked pies were the best around.

inspired by another member's poem

Details | Rhyme | |

Super Grandma Girl

Super grandma girl, in her long green cape,
took a quick ride on a golden grape;
she slipped, greased lightning like, over the floor,
gunned her girl motor and flew out the door.
A scream she had heard out on the front lawn . . .
a grandchild in trouble???? No time for a yawn.
Like all super heroes she was there in a flash,
with a dash and a clash and a ladylike smash.
Her darling was bloodied,
pink ruffled dress muddied,
(the one she had just worn to church).
She had taken a lurch and fell from her perch
way up high in the old apple tree,
a place she was not meant to be.
Only grannie superheroes can give healing kisses
to cute little, sweet little, bad little misses,
but that is exactly what grandma's will do--
grab you up quick with loud hullabaloos,
and before you know it, you're better! It's true!
Just because super grandma really loves you.
But--one thing all grandkids need to remember:
grandma will love you the year through--to December!
You don't have to be bad and fall from a tree
to get super kisses from super old me.

Faye Lanham Gibson
August 3, 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Memories Made to Ponder

It was a tin-roof wooden house standing 
Across the red brick cobblestone street 
Adjacent to a wide open field full
Of shady live oak and sweet smelling tangerine trees where 
My father’s boyhood home was nestled  
Quietly in his home town. 

Often times we’d travel to visit 
The grandparents still living there 
In that Americana corner of our lives.
We didn’t know much of anything at all except 
The sky was blue, love was true and we 
Youngsters were the apples of the old folk’s eyes.

We’d sit for hours in white wicker rocking chairs
I helped paint one time with newspaper on the floor 
And a horsehair brush grandma gave me 
To teach me that painting needn’t be a lesson 
In staying between the lines.  “Sometimes,” she’d say,
“It’s better to let the paint flow 
And speak for itself in time.” 

And granddad liked to watch the sky – especially at night 
When stars were burning bright and would point towards Polaris and say:
“Heaven’s over that a-way.”  And during daylight hours 
When storm clouds appeared and we could hear 
Thunder and lightning all around, he’d laugh and dance 
As if the circus were coming to town.  

We watched mocking birds and blue jays flying in and out 
Of all the tree top branches and leaves singing 
Their love making lullabies to us and one another and then
As quickly as they arrived, 
Disappeared into the wind.  
It seems we’re not much different 
Rather family, foe or friend.  
Accordingly, the old house still stands today 
But the dear old folks have slipped away.  
Perhaps to the place once pointed to
High above that night sky view 
Where comets roam and grandpa liked to call “Up yonder,”  
Leaving me with thoughts of gold 
And memories made to ponder.         

Details | Haiku | |


Bouquet in mansion
Furnish by the most priceless
Can't outweigh her love

Agrarian harvest
And all the nature's beauty  
Can't surpass her heart

She's her children's spouse
A companion to her hobby
...Her caring tranquil

Right way sure her way
Her prayer is excellence
...Can't banish such soul.

Details | Haiku | |

grandmother's sweet potato pie haiku

sweet potato pie
my grandmother used to make
i will always miss....

Details | Free verse | |

My Darling Girl, My Black-Eyed Susan

My Darling Girl, 

your big dark eyes  met mine

against your pale skin and yellow hair

this name sang in my heart, Susan,

my Black-Eyed Susan.

A wild flower you’ll be, you’ll be a

kind friend,

loving wife,

strong mother,

sweet grandmother

and always you’ll be

my darling girl, my Black-Eyed Susan

Details | Free verse | |

She went up to heaven holding the angels hands

She went up to heaven, holding the angel’s hand

My great grandma Hajia
Died and went to heaven
She is watching over me
With the weariness of 
A mother hen watching
Her newly hatched chicks
She likes it up there
She is having fun
With all the people there
She misses the people she
Left behind that day
In the room
The angels took away
Something I treasure so much
We miss her
I miss her
I will always love her
She went up to heaven
Holding the angels hands.

Details | Nonet | |

growing old

                 The day when I was a younger Lass
                  never a thought in my young mind
                  soon evolution takes over
                  I try with grace and truth
                  overcome destiny
                  trading beauty
                  for wisdom
                  the gift

Details | Kimo | |


Rocking through the night,wizened cheeks so dear.
Cupping my face in her hands.
Beautiful grandma.

Loving her filled up my lonely childhood.
Emma made the stars shine bright.
Her love was immense.

for "Emma " contest
My grandma's name really was Emma ...

Details | ABC | |


Grandmother By Saiful Haq:
Skinny Skin Bloomed with Wrinkles,
Overshadowing her dimples,
Staring with Aghast Eyes,
Expressing herself in a fatuous Noise.

Credulous to lavish promises,
Melodramatic to laziness,
Pertinacious in her religious beliefs ,
Punctiliously attending her colleagues.

Torpidly trekking with a wooden stick,
Very Prone to being sick,
Showering her blessings diligently,
Is the patriotic head of Our family.

Details | Free verse | |

The Whittler

Upon his grandfather's rocking chair 
on the porch in the cool crisp air
sits a man with a special gift.
For he can see the soul of a tree
within a piece of wood upon his knee.

His pile of cedar gives off a sweet smell.
He picks through the pieces, eyes closed,
his touch feels what is enclosed.
As if he were to reach within the wood 
by pulling  it apart  from its protective bark 
and removing what’s inside from the dark.
The Whittler will release this soul from its cage!

Each meticulous movement of the knife in hand
is meant to bring out something so grand.
After hours of work, fingers cramping into knots
the soul held within in this piece arose
to be a magnificent fully blossomed rose.

Beautiful just like the ones his gram 
planted beneath her father's old cedar tree, by hand.

Adam Hapworth, With These Hands, 12/13/2013, Image #3

Details | Sonnet | |

A Sonnet For My Granny

My northern star
To the stars you belong
You were the brightest of all stars
The fairest of all
Your illumination would have quench
The burning furnace

My precious sapphire
The jewel in the heart
Of Ibesikpo Asutan
The one whose glance
Cools the hottest fire
I wish i were the sun, shinning at you
I wish I were the moon looking back at you

Details | Free verse | |


so this is the way the night tastes... looking back I couldn't tell, in pencil at the beginning worn flights of steps, from before the war smaller, until they were gone but in the mirror, my hands gold rims, bare here and there out of an echo, knowing not long after flecked with red, blue in the depths, and polished... I see clearly all the pieces of the flower it was late when we started plates stacked on shelves next to the questions one at a time once there was a horizon no color except for gray at a perfect distance from each other almost a thousand years later almost in plain sight in the summer fields waiting it would climb up as a shadow we planned to wait and to whatever is still standing the eggshell of light before dark what was there before remained closed on its own along the ridge of the barn roof only she had forgotten her name a dried branch of bittersweet lace on drop-leaf tables I could not remember part memory, part distance leading me to the lake shore invisible under the hood
_______________________________________________________ Inspired By Charlotte's Contest: "Cut-up/Collage Poems" and randomly "snipped" from a book by W.S. Merwin 2/27/14

Details | Prose | |

My Grand Parents

When we are with you, we always have fun, You make us feel we're your special ones! If we really need a hug or two, we know that we can always depend on you. Giving hugs is what grandparents do best, And you do it better than all the rest! Everything that my grandma does is something special made with love. She take time to add the extra touch that says, "I love you very much." She fixes hurts with a kiss and smile and tell good stories grandma-style. It's warm and cozy on her lap for secret telling or a nap. At 1 in the afternoon,It is always grandpa's call. he asks"this app.... how to install??" My Grandpa is a wonderful man, Always believed in me, he knew that I can. Wisdom of life, openly shared, Comforted me, when I was scared. Here is a secret, and it is true- Grandma & Grandpa, my hearts belongs to you!

Details | Quatrain | |

From the cradle to the grave

I wish to leave a legacy, 
A memory of me
I wish to leave a legacy,
Something my mother left for me

Death took my mother when I was three
So all she left was what she taught me
So as I sit and sew, I see
My mother looking down on me

Her hands guide my fingers as I make
A cradle for my daughter to take
For all the children that follow in her wake
Will rest in peace and sleep till daybreak

Surrounded by love for “oma’s” sake
For each child anew a small remake
Will forever preserve this family keepsake
And I will be there forever to partake

As each new child lies cradled here
All the ancestors will be near
To bestow their love and guidance clear
On the newborn and his parents dear

While we support there is no fear
Because the child will always hear
The sounds of love sincere
And know his family is near

Details | Free verse | |

Portraits of My Grandmother

Written by Gail DeBole on January 26, 2013

Portrait One

You thought that they were crazy.
Watching the news each night.
Your explanation was simple.
Crazy.  The killers, the liars, the cheaters…
And I snuggled next to you.
Thinking how overly-simplified your conclusion was.
Your shoulder making an excellent pillow.
Your apron always on.

And after the news was over
You were back in the kitchen taking care of…
Everything and everybody.

Portrait Two

In the video…old video…it’s now a memory.
You and your sister
Talking and laughing.
No sound video.
Can’t tell what you are saying.
Can only see the love between 
You and your sister.

That will have to be enough.
That’s all that matters.

Note: Part of the Portrait Collection

Details | Free verse | |

Divine Mushroom of Immortality

Psilocybin psychotropica,
you are a gateway to immortality,
a gateway to angelic states of euphoria
spreading open the wings of our glands,
breaking the bondage of mind-ego,
pushing thoughts closer to God.

Ah yes,
flies lick the cap,
then they dance in drunkenness,
making them so much easier to crush.
Blast those dirty flies
and the plagues carried upon their tongues-
miniature horsemen
galloping forth from the saliva
of these vile, winged beasts.
-Thou shalt not kill-
But kill only those disgusting flies,
please, kill them all!
Yes, kill them all!

Everything else should live.
Even inanimate stones breathe,
just as trees 
can hear us passing by.
Atoms waver, pulse,
twisting all about,
until reality can be seen as a 
gigantic interconnected organism,
constantly moving and breathing.

Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer
showed his patch of magical mushrooms
to the rest of the gang,
sharing the secret of flight,
enabling dear Santa Claus 
to fly around the world,
spreading the joy of psilocybin psychotropica
with everyone else.
Oh, the wonders of Christmas!
Lights and sounds
into scents and colours.
Rascally little elves
causing havoc in the kitchen,
spiking the eggnog with spores-
and we grow tall,
we grow small,
we are having a ball,
jumping through mirrors,
flirting with Alice,
exchanging recipes of cookies, cakes and brownies,
visions of sugarplums dancing through our heads.

Never want to go back,
the rabbit hole is st r  e  t   c   h    i     n      g,
exit seems so far away
as angels fluff pillows
for our sleepy heads to rest upon.
We dream,
talk with the dead,
watch spirits enter wombs
at the point of conception,
so that Grandmother can be reborn again.
And again and again and again-
an infinite string of galactic spirituality
waiting inside of this manna,
eternal life found in the spores of the 
Divine Mushroom of Immortality.

*I do not advocate substance abuse,
instead I am describing a Shamanic vehicle of spirituality.
When ingesting magic mushrooms,
especially potent strains like Muscaria Angelica,
make sure to be around people who you trust
and stay away from artificial lighting and television....

Details | Couplet | |

Grandma's House

Our team, Pat and Mike, pulled the wagon over rough ground.
When the iron wheel rolled over a stone, we bounced around.

On the way to Grandma’s house, our hearts would sing with joy.
A happy day loomed ahead, filled with freedom from daily toil.

Aunts, uncles and cousins filled up Grandma’s kitchen,
food for our bellies, playful lambs, and baby kittens.

Peals of laughter among parents visiting with each other,
far too busy to watch everything we could discover.

A small house bursting with love and uncommon harmony.
Sweet memories of where we learned the value of family.

Details | Villanelle | |

An Angel of Christmas Past

The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget It was the day we celebrated yes I do remember The family came together for you with no regret Recalling a child, spying around, found a train set I would start to feel the excitement in November The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget Someone hurries to buy a last gift in a Corvette Another sad to celebrate, a gift they can’t render The family came together for you with no regret The rest of the holiday, I’ll change my mindset Going to show some real spirit, not be a pretender The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget If there is anyone, it’s to you that I am in debt Lil sweet lady, no you were powerful yet slender The family came together for you with no regret So far from that magical time I’m a dark silhouette But my cold hard heart starts to melt in December The eve of Christmas a day I won’t soon forget You taught me about Holiday spirit, with no regret
Written by me Wayland Bunch II on 12/10/2013 for Happy Holidays contest in memory of my grandmother. I changed the last line, felt forced to change it, but will still categorize this poem as a Villanelle. I could have easily repeated the closing line again, or could have called it free verse, but neither would have done justice to the message or the form, because I used the power of the repetition, provided by the form, throughout.

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

My Grandmother Ruth Hastings Boyd

If I touched the lid on the  candy dish in the living room                                                                         My Grandmother could hear the clink of glass on glass in the kitchen                                                " Michael !"  she would exclaim softly                                                                                                         There was a rummer in the family that she was physic                                                                  That she had seen two of her children after they had died                                                                                                                                     Before anyone had told her they where gone                                                                                             I don't know about that but I can tell you                                                                                            No one touched the lid on the candy dish without my grandmother knowing

Details | Nonet | |

Forgotten Winter

Weighted now with ancient mystery she stands among serenity in full bloom of twilight's sigh with abundant bouquets of wild sage and thyme that makes aging possibly worth the wait nights weighted with dead leaves and hidden wounds vanish in the wind while autumn disappears leaving only the springtime frozen in forgotten winters leaving dreams of a second childhood
____________________________________________________ For the contest: "The Old Age" sponsored by Dr. Ram Mehta

Details | Rhyme | |

Memories Beyond The Door

Walking among the fragrant roses
And overhanging hibiscus so red
Dropping by the delicate posies
As through the garden, she led

The smell of gravy from the kitchen
And fresh bread being rolled
The clucking of the tame hen
And all thru her warm hand to hold

Scribbling on walls newly white washed
And catching fireflies at night
Stepping on frozen grapes, until squashed
Sleepily waiting for that golden morning light

A gentle smile, a gentle push
Gentle hands braiding the long hair
Picking white jasmine from the doorway bush
And decorating the braid with flair

Memories of so long ago
And age past, an age gone
Come flying in with the flow
Of a new day and new dawn


Details | Rhyme | |

Granny Cool

You're my inspiration
always been there when needing a spiritual lift
indeed you're one-of-a-kind Grandmother
fit-to-be-Queen with God-given gift
Bodhisattva Qualities

Details | Rhyme | |

My Grans House

I think I may have told you once before
Of my grans house but I’m not sure
The old post office it was called
As a child by it I was enthralled

Into the house from the pavement you went
Two up two down but love in every sentiment
The lounge was small I suppose petite
All was kept orderly, clean and neat

Down a hallway to the back
A fire place lead black
Outside the back door a water pump
From which water my grandma would hump

So the kettle on the stove
Could brew tea for all who rove
So you could wash your hands and face
This was not a flashy place

In the hallway I recall 
Stood a cupboard six foot tall
Filled with homemade jam and honey
In those days hard up for money

We would bathe in a tin bath
If not you would incur her wrath
Cleanest first dirtiest last 
Those were the rules held hard and fast

In the bedrooms a bowl and jug
No sink to hold a plug
Toilet down the orchard in the yard
A gazunder for your needs life was hard

Yet in this little place
This old lady with wrinkled face
Lived to a ripe old age ninety two
I still miss her now it’s true

This house was in Pembridge Herefordshire, she would always give us a threepenny bit to spend in those days that bought quite a bit, lovely lady always loved,.

Details | Quatrain | |

The Echo of a Soul

The Echo of a Soul 
By Andrew Weeden 

In the windswept hills of vibrant green, 
Here I sit at your lonely grave. 
The bright flower that made my heart beam, 
Is the wilted flower I could not save.  

From the beginning I did not know, 
I was oblivious from the start; 
Cancer’s blade cut away your happy glow 
And would thrust to pierce my very heart.  
Consumed in the darkness of raging anger, 
Ten years I stand alone in the rain. 
With death no longer a distant stranger; 
My only companion in the storm of pain.  

Now it seems no one remembers, 
But you did not cease to be. 
Your spirit still burns in glowing embers 
And lives inside the fire in me.  

The storm is passing; I finally see its end. 
Happiness smiles again and shakes me to my core.  
I realize every time I lift my pen 
My Grandma speaks once more! 

Reflections of your love 
Weave tapestries in time. 
As a singing mourning dove, 
Your words whisper in my mind. 

So though you had to go, 
You remain in your begotten; 
As an echo of a soul, 
Gone but not forgotten. 

Details | Narrative | |

Dead Reckoning

Black as the pit in the well of my dreams
I'm here all alone,  and the silence is long...
I'm engulfed by the drone and the low pitch of dread
Dead reckoning beckons me to hold up my head 
in a whirlwind, a gust of the fierce prairie wind

I open my eyes, with the last of my breath
There is a field of wheat, I am gasping within
My grandmother's house, in a waving mirage
is seen through the dust, just as once it had been
What do I fear?  Perhaps it is death?

Perchance this is slumber, and the sleep monster taunts me,
The nightmare is haunting, as it calls through the dark
I am playing the part, I am child, just a spark
of the fire that wants me, as the field is engulfed

Heroic, and fearless, now, alas, not afraid!
An arm reaches out, and shows me the way
“You can be brave” as she lends me her hand
Shouting, "Stand by my side, let the flames be your guide"

How brave, that I am, when deep in the place
in the trace of the vaporous face of my dreams
The shades of fire, and smoke of the night
will consume me, if only, I fight off my fright
It is only my fear,  that consumes while awake
of the things that are real, and things that are not

I'll not bend like wheat strands, or the flames of the fire
I'll stand tall when I wake, and will wake with new power

1//5/14  For the Contest sponsored by Poetess Darkly
"Pocket Full of Dreams"

Details | Elegy | |

An Elegy for My Northern Wind

The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Western runs.
Within the sailcloth’s native flight
down all the oceans could I write,
but good from it can’t come to me
as wonder I at open sea.
You blew me fast on to a shore,
to a sailors will to survey more,
in time did courage I equip,
set sails to my beloved ship,
on a voyage thus I was again,
to shelter once more then attain,
at open sea I wondered long,
Inspecting where the skies went wrong,
why won’t my Northern Wind descend,
when this sailor does on it depend;
but still the promise that I made,
to your choices my silence bade,
when will you see that I had kept,
on stranded days and nights unslept—
my silence close, with lips concealed,
when bitter truth this life revealed,
through torrents that did daunt my being
still vexing moans I kept from fleeing.
If seas could only lives reset
and baptize me to you forget,
would gladly drown in all of them
to this misery just condemn,
but only in my tears design
could I now reach that land of mine
where my silence shall leave me too,
life as a beggar there renew,
upon whose shores I would down lie,
to hearts content then cry and cry.
The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Eastern runs.
R.N.Khan, © 2013

Details | ABC | |

Love for gramma

Love for gramma
True Love for Gramma
I said to my mother I want to go to Gramma's house.
She said, not today!
I was attempting to walk but with no luck.
I would ride my bike, but it's just a trick.
I can't drive a car it's too far.
I took a box and went inside to cry I want to see Gramma's house.
Momma heard the cry.
When she just opens the box, I said mail me to Gramma's house

Details | Free verse | |

Boxing day

Perhaps you see me
it may be your gift to see
or merit for hard work
or maybe you paid for it with the lashings you endured
but surely it is now your inescapable wretched curse
as the truth haunts you
but you cannot close your eyes
like me.

It is my fault I am as this
to be as false as I am
false is my name
I cannot love that
I have buried it inside
and run away
because it is too ugly
easier to smile and pretend.

My grandmother saw it in my blackened soul
clever and easy to lie
she hurt me
made me ashamed
and broken
to protect the world and even me
but her tricks did not work
because I have killed too many hearts
and poisoned those that survived
even my own.

I am cold
and it is right I have suffered so
because I lost my heart
and replaced it with a ticking clock
that pretends to beat like a happy butterfly
and tries to convince me I have feelings
that I cannot reach
I am a masquerader of abundant hollow emotions
that laugh and smile and cry
but I never face myself
in the dark alone
because there is nothing to see without a light
my flame has no fuel
unless I suck it from another's bloody neck.

I do not know myself
because I cannot bear to look
but I hate myself as much as you hate me
and you should
because every love I'm given
is less for the world
I am a black hole
I give to get
like Hansel and Gretel's keeper
I only give love
to fatten up my lover
and open her precious tender trusting heart
so that I can consume it in eventual flames
and steal all of their future hope
and faith in humanity.

And I don't know how to stop
and am too afraid to stop myself
with the knife I keep hidden
but never have the courage to use
because I am a dark monster
that pretends to be inviting
like a pristine beach
on a boxing day morning
beckoning humanity
to my shoreline
so I can consume them
with my hungry tsunami
and leave them writhing in pain
with all hope in shambles.

Rescuers arrive in love
one after another
I greet them with open arms
as if I am deserving
blinded behind my veil
pretending to myself until it is too late
and just as they almost open my heart
I swallow them under my next crushing wave.

Details | Lyric | |

Troubled Soul

You took the time it took to notice Me
You said your troubled soul was plain to see
You held my hand and led me home at a time when I was lost
You laid yourself on water ...and I crossed

You laid yourself on water and I crossed
You laid yourself on water and I crossed
You placed yourself upon the line not caring of the cost
You laid yourself on water and I crossed

You picked me up each time life knocked me down
I thought these feet would never leave the ground
Each journey had it's price and it was you who climbed the cross
You Laid yourself on water and I crossed

You laid yourself on water and I crossed
You laid yourself on water and I crossed
You placed yourself upon the line not caring of the cost
You laid yourself on water and I crossed

I've looked to you to know what's right from wrong
And when the darkness falls and light is gone
You've kept the darkness from my door and saved me from the frost
You laid yourself on water and I crossed

Details | Haiku | |


           'cross rough noon sky
           rain and shine couple...
                fox's wedding.

note: When I was a kid my grandmother  never let me go out when rain and shine came together saying that , that was the time when foxes held their secret weddings.(a folk lore,which she believed in)....Years later I watched a similar concept   so well presented in  Akira Kurosawa themes..I miss my granny...Always did...

Details | Haiku | |

Yellow Throat Warbler

wild river perch
songs Grandmother heard
caress my heart

Details | Free verse | |

Coloring Book

When little CJ comes to visit
She asks me for her "colors,"
The bright, fat crayons that "nanna" keeps
In a recycled butter tub.
We share the color book; CJ scribbles
on the left, the crayon squeezed tightly
in her tiny fist.
I color on the right, carefully converting
the puppy outline into a masterpiece
of paper art.
The puppy must have chocolate brown;
The grass and trees need green, of course.
I stay within the lines, modeling correctness.
CJ helps me--smearing first a purple nose 
on her kitten's face, trailing to my page
to add a purple splash to the tail
of my puppy.
I never am quite finished 
when she decides it's time 
to find new pictures and begin again.
I doubt we'll ever finish those we leave behind,
but I haven't the heart to tell her
she might be wasting pages or coloring them wrong.
Mayhap, our lives would be none the worse
for errant purple outside the lines
or a few pages left unfinished.

Details | I do not know? | |

This is the TRUE Story of Six Sisters Part 3 The Guestbook

The Guestbook
I signed the guestbook, hoping that _____, Jenny’s mom would get my message and get in 
contact with me. In the mean time, every person who signed it, I got updates about.
Then, one Saturday, I got this e-mail saying someone had signed the guest book, so right 
away, I read it. It was someone named ________, from Ohio…and that she was Jenny’s 
biological sister, and she left a phone number. Now…I know this name…because my birth 
father’s mother had told me that name when I met her in January. So, I nervously picked up 
the telephone and dialed the number. Thank goodness the machine picked up, LOL…I said 
hello, my name is Melissa Powell, I am in Indiana. Jenny was my biological sister, by the 
same birth father, and I think that you and I may be sisters too. Give me a call when you 
can. Two hours later…the phone rang…it was ______…confirming we were indeed sisters! 
Then she dropped a bomb on me…I had another sister _____! Wow…I lost one sister 2 
weeks ago…and today, I find out I have two more sisters! What a blessing! So in the mean 
time, ____, _____ and I are getting to know each other, and our families. So we get to 
talking about possibly looking for other siblings because out birth grandmother has told us 
there are indeed more of us out there. So we look on Facebook with the names. ________ I 
wrote to about 20 _______ Even though when I saw her picture when I wrote her…I knew 
she was my sister…we could be identical twins! So a few weeks go by…then on April 3, I get 
home from Good Friday Church services and there is a e-mail from ______…Call me, I found 
_______… Not only did we find _______…we found _____!

So with the tragic death of our beautiful sister Jenny…it brought all of all us together!
Now we have the rest of our lives to be sisters and get to know one another. God works in 
mysterious ways, and we all believe that he brought us together using Jenny as our northern 
star. And there are even more of us out there! Current count…Six girls and we are told we 
may even have some brothers somewhere!

Details | Prose | |


Antiques are defined by their unique beauty, like grandma's hands.  Yes, there old and wrinkled. But those hands can make the best pie and folded together they touch Heaven! Antiques are rare, like grandma. She can still outwork anybody but never brag. She is a walking encyclopedia. She's the most interesting (and opinionated) history teacher there ever was! Antiques have personal emotional connection, like grandma. My first memories as a boy were getting a bath from grandma.. in an old steel tub at a rustic cabin up in the woods of Idaho.  Rarely a day passes where she isn't on my mind.  She has modeled all the virtues that every religion says we are supposed to be.  

Antiques have other unique features, like grandma. She lives a simple, authentic life. Grandma was the one that told me, "Progress that improves things, but not people, is a trap!"  I was just a boy back then but that statement changed my life. Grandma taught me to chase love and wisdom and don't get hung up on society's fads. Life is in the journey.. It's a pic-nic by the lake, gazing into your lover's eyes for hours, butterfly kissing while slowly memorizing their beautiful face, being there on difficult days to wipe a tear from their eye. And a thousand more things just like it. I love you grandma.. You're in my heart forever! The greatest antique in the world is my grandma!

Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Contest Name: Antiques
Date: 4-19-14
Form: Prose

Details | Ballad | |

The Ones I Have Lost

As I go through my day, they are by my side, 
Following me, watching me and also being my guide. 

These are the angels of my loved ones that passed, 
When I know their near me,  I want this feeling to last. 

I never had much family, separated by distance, 
Sometimes I felt like my world was of non-existence. 

The few I loved so much and held so dear, 
My grandfather, grandmother and father are no longer here.

But when I smell my dads cologne or hear grandmas voice in my ears, 
I hold in my heart their near me and it rids me of fears. 

I certainly must say there is not a day that goes by, 
That I do not think of them and softly cry. 

I always pray that they will visit me while I sleep, 
Dreaming of them is a wonderful feeling that goes so deep. 

I'll miss you everyday until I am no longer on earth,
When I see you all again, it will be like a rebirth.

Details | Lyric | |

Impression From Grandmother 3x Esther Louise Arbuthnot's Photograph 1876

        ( Impression From Grandmother 3x Esther Louise Arbuthnot's Photograph 1876)
While the rain is falling gently on the roof it makes the sound
of a time that's long forgotten though it seems to hang around
I can hear you breathing lightly from an Irish dream I've known
it has come to Pennsylvania where you've found me here alone
       and I can feel you when you cry.
       So far from home, you wonder why,
       and it makes me want to die.

All the way from County Down there was a dream you had to find
you were long ago and far away, but always on my mind,
in your photograph your eyes are reaching out perhaps for me,
I can feel you when I see you but I never really see,
       what makes you think you have to cry?
       You must have known I'd wonder why,
       it still makes me want to die.

Can you hear the raindrops falling? County Down's so far away,
or perhaps it's just forgotten, like a dreary Irish day,
I can feel it when you're smiling, and I see it in your eyes
love is gone before you know it, and it's then I realize,
       it's made you think you have to cry.
       And through it all, not wonder why,
       it still makes me want to die.
©  ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Details | Quatrain | |

Grandma's Bench

Each day her world was getting smaller
But still to this bench she made her way
To enjoy the park, the pond, and the ducks
and watch young children that came to play

Her bench became a gathering place
Life stories told and babies kissed
They all enjoyed her wise company
Her sweet face will sorely be missed.

They still gather at that bench
And daily life goes on as before
But they still remember "grandma"
A lady they had come to adore...

Details | Verse | |


I meant to tell about my travelling aboard.
Of my visit to West Africa
For genealogy purpose, I wanted to see my great grandfather homeland.
He was from Guinea.
He loved dance and drumming.

I submit this missed poem!

Lenny was polyrhythm.
He loved his total body dance.
He beat his drum to articulate his movements.
His Sub-Saharan music traditions were practice.
The Hills of Mississippi is where he meaningfully existed.
His life formed many cultures there.
Wolfe’s Plantation is where he lived.

I submit this missed poem.
To a competition, I am entering.

Emma was his wife and a short woman to Lenny’s height that reached over six feet.
They married when she was only sixteen.
Emma gave birth to five children.
Their names are Donnie, Mae Emma, Jeb, Lenny, and Coleen.
Emma was the teacher of The Wolfe’s Plantation.
Through her wisdom and knowledge, she departed education.

A missed poem is written to enter a contest that overlooked my thoughts.
Once called “A Tribute to Guinea, West Africa,” is now entered as “A Missed Poem.”
This is part of the original…

The love of my great grandparents brings me here.
To Guinea, West Africa, I pay tribute.
Their culture in dance and drumming is our heritage.
My great grandfather family is from that history.
West African slaves to European’s whites of Eastern Hemisphere.
United States of America is where they lived.
Lenny’s parents stayed true to the tradition.
He danced to the polyrhythms.
Motif: Heritage/Family/Origin/Mixed Blood/Contest Name	
~Please read About This Poem~

Details | Epic | |


I understand the hearts of romantics,
The rapture of their words written on a blank piece of paper
Wrapped in pink ribbon to send to a lover
	 who only existed in the throes of imaginary adventure.
How the girl with the tattered spirit like a moth-infested closet
	Sprouted wings in a butterfly-like metamorphosis
Only to find a hole in the dusted wings that sent her sailing to the floor in a
frightening free-fall only followed by her teardrops.
How she dusted her knees and asked the teddy bear to kiss it better who only answered her
with the silent glint in his button eye.
How she patched herself up and continued flight.
How she broke her knees and heart in repetitiveness.   
	in a love unrequited.
I am the girl, I suffered, I mended.

The silent crisis deafening the city,
The boy with a glass pipe in his hand for an easy thrill
	lying in his own vomit across the street,
The grandmother weeping in the coldest room for hope and a time without need and addiction
	with a window seat to the neighboring event.

I am the boy that chases the dragon with a fearless anticipation,
Ignorant to the addiction that chews at my brain and teeth,
I scratch at the deposits in my arms and legs with a compulsive uneasiness
	to put on the sober face.
I fall on my knees in church,
Swear I believe in God and the Holy Ghost,
Pray to Jesus when it's unbearable,
Beg for the redemption of my fifteen year old soul because I know that my sins will reduce me
	to the burning pyre.

Adaptation, addiction abstinence, and absolution are all part of me,
I ask not of what the addict needs, for I become his heroin
	in his time of  relapse,
My cravings turn to pity for the men in withdrawal.

Beaming bright and beautiful,
My wings glow with the illumination that Mother graced me with long ago that I never
believed was

I am the warrior standing at the podium with words as my only ammo,
Facing my biggest fear.

Again the stares of inferiority.
Again the whispered thoughts against me.
Again the prejudice.

The knowledge overflows my being of terms I never analyzed completely,
An analysis of my inferiority to the people gazing at me with glazed eyes and polite smiles,
The understanding that wealth is the status quo as I stand in my old clothes and shoes,
I have nothing better to do than feel uplifted.

Again, the knowledge bubbles up in an outlet of laughter as it soars through my spirit
like a lighthouse's beam
	over the ocean.
They may be wealthy, but I am far richer.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waiting At Doctor's Office

Cody was questioning the lettering on the doctor's plaque on the wall..
He asked me to write letters in cursive which I did ...
He said that the plaque's lettering was not anything like cursive..
Then he wrote in cursive "Once upon a time"
I wrote: "there was"
He wrote: "a Granny"
I wrote: "Who had a Chihuahua named Princess"
He wrote: " They were so alike that they both even had the same spoiled look on their face.."
I wrote: " Princess wanted a new coat and a new harness so we went to PetSense to shop..Princess wanted a rhinestone studded harness and a sequined coat..Of course, she got what she wanted its no joke"..Ha!!!Ha!!!Ha!!

Cody came away empty handed..Ha!!!  

Just for fun...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I know it is not ‘nothing’ but white men in Ireland and the few niggers (on the up and up) that come from Scotland to party in those Pubs. My ancestors on my great great great grandmother side were from the immigrant Irish clan; therefore, Haley, Creek Indian, married a white man. She had Cherokee and Blackhawk blood to. Her family flourished in lineage and the skin comes in all colors. Note this! We are called the colored Sexton’s because Haley’s great granddaughter married a Guinea. The story became we are the colors of the United States of America. O’ jealousy manifested and now, I am the structure of the colored Sextons! Our story will be told. Therefore, our belief and faith is transcendent via the Holy Scripture, In God We Trust! _________________________| PENNED ON AUGUST 31, 2014!

Details | Rhyme | |

Antique gift

 She had once thought of her Grandmother as "antique"
Perhaps  because of all the wrinkles and gray hairs
 But she was a child then, innocent and meek
And time had not yet put wrinkles on her cheek
 But she was much older now and in her  "antique" years

She held a pair of earrings in her hands
A gift her grandma gave her  many years ago
And  one  she would present to her granddaughter too
A gift  that  future generations would  carry through

And as she moved back and forth in her rocking chair
Her own granddaughter  came near 
When she put those earrings in the child's ears
She found herself welling up  with  tears

Details | ABC | |


When a black woman love
she loves deeply.
She cares truly.
When she touch;
with tenderness.
Whenever she listen;
always filled with compassion.
Whom she respects;
that she adores!
She never judge;
she supports!
Will always have your back;
she is crazy loyal!
She never gives up on 'em;
she takes care of her own.
Whenever she is around
her presence is definitely felt.
It's the simple thing she does
and the way she does them;
her smile,
her gaze,
how she rolls her eyes,
play with her hair...
Not to mention how she effortlessly  transforms
a house to a home.
they say black don't cracK;that's true!
Is  bolD and beautifulL; definitely!
Absolutely phenomenaL;i concur!
But am here to declare
Black is royaltY,
so is a Black womaM!

Details | Concrete | |

Egg Money 2

(I re-posted this one. The first time I tried to do so, the shape of the poem didn't transfer properly.) 

            sat on the
          back porch, in
      crates, destined for
    market.  Grandmother
  carefully hand-washed &
 dried each egg.  When she
had  tallied  several  dozen,  
they were taken to the store 
in  town, which also passed 
as gas station & post office.
 For her, it was a bit more
   than a  trip to sell eggs;
    it was a time to visit,
      gossip & perhaps 
         choose a new


Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's refrigerator cake

Times were lean but life was good
When waste not, want not we understood
In the refrigerator all leftovers would accumulate
Come the weekend Grandma scraped it all onto a plate
She really cleaned it out; nothing was excluded
All were mashed and diced with sugar and spice included
Beaten batter with raisin thrown in; placed in the oven to bake
Thick butter frosting placed atop surely completed her refrigerator cake
All the grand kids now gathered about; to taste a slice so savory
Not only did we each get a piece of cake; we also got a memory

Details | Blank verse | |


Who, then, can be as great as grandmother?
I cannot begin to describe how I 
Admire her and all the things she does.
Loving mother of two generations
She raised me with as much love as she be-
stowed upon my father and his siblings.
With a strength more immense than I can know
She uprooted herself for a better
Life and for greater opportunities
For my brother and I. Long hours and
Little pay, she works hard to make ends meet.
When she is gone, her beaming face will live
on in my memory. I'll remember
Van Halen singing on the radio
And grandma, singing along, telling me
All of life's most important secrets. I'll
remember her at my track meets, cheering 
me on, whether I won or lost, loving
me just the same either way. I'll always 
remember her holding my hand, making
sure I had someone to lean on. When she
is gone, I will remember her singing
because in those moments, she was the most
beautiful person I had ever seen. 
A person of grace, beauty, and of love.
Who, then, can be as great as grandmother?

Details | Free verse | |


Among us.
Not alien
But more
Like us than
You will ever know.
They are
They live
Next door
Behind walls
Not of stone
But of fear.
They are
Ad dictions
Flesh from
They are
They are
But not

Details | Elegy | |

My Grandmother

My Grandmother I miss her so
Her smiling face when I see her
She could always make my day better
But she had gotten ill
Went to a better place
My grandmother I miss her so 
Is always in my heart and soul
She will always be forever and always.
My Grandmother I miss her so

Details | Epic | |


Years my father nostalgic for my mother.
She'd set the Shabbat table
Guess the white cloth the flu vegetable land
 Let the fine flour, put the meat
Put the tomatoes and garlic
She could cook.
It tasted feed came from us
And so would put us as cookies Yu Yu Tonisaiot
Sweet biscuits dipped in liquid dam
Rosewater would add my grandmother if she had been allowed to
But here in my mother would make the salads very thinly
To unite us at the Shabbat table.

I did not learn a foreign language parents
My parents speak their language changes
Request a sweet Polish father
Tunisian mature mother
And I did not learn of them a foreign language
Only Hebrew sucked mother that it was not her mother tongue
She spoke with her sisters in French
Jewish and jargon that far.

In the kitchen I did not learn a foreign language
Only Hebrew

Details | Light Poetry | |

My dear grandmother

My dear grandmother

One nigth while I was sleeping
I got a sad telephonemessage

I got up fast
The tears just trundled down my cheeks

The message I got was that you had passed away
It happened so incredibly fast

I have cried for several months
All the tears for you
Hope that some of you still are here with me

Now, I have no grandmother to talk with
For your heart stopped
Why was it your turn to let the soul leave your body

Life needs to move on
The dead, they have to be honored
I will never be able to forget you
I let the memories be hidden

                \_\  /
                /_/  \
                \_\/\ \

Dedicated to my dear grandmother (1935-2011) 

Details | Rhyme | |

grandma's tales

I remember Grandma telling tales
in her ancient secret voice
of shining knights and spouting whales
and how Grandpa made his choice

Many times her tired eyes would dim
then burst forth with a special glow
as if they sang a happy hymn
to some treasured scene of long ago

Her face alive with laughter
she enfolds me in loving arms
this memory I will keep long after
I've forgotten her other magic charms

Details | Classicism | |

Esther Louise Arbuthnot

       Great great great (?) Grandmother
(My own mother was named after her)
While the rain is falling gently on the roof it makes the sound
of a time that's long forgotten though it seems to hang around
I can hear you breathing lightly from an Celtic dream I've known
it has come to Pennsylvania where you've found me here alone
       and I can feel you when you cry.
       So far from home, you wonder why,
       and it makes me want to die.

All the way from County Down there was a dream you had to find
you were long ago and far away, but always on my mind,
in your photograph your eyes are reaching out perhaps for me,
I can feel you when I see you but I never really see,
       what makes you think you have to cry?
       You must have known I'd wonder why,
       Yet it makes me want to die.

Can you hear the raindrops falling? County Down's so far away,
or perhaps it's just forgotten, like a dreary Celtic day,
I can feel it when you're smiling, in the Heaven of your eyes,
love is gone before you know it, and it's then I realize,
       it's made you think you have to cry.
       And through it all, not wonder why,
      I will never let you die.
 © Ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Basically the events of the poem are history, although
Esther Louise Arbuthnot was not actually born in
Scotland. I just took a little poet's privilege and the poem
in its entirity came from observing the beauty of her 

Details | Rhyme | |

Cutting Cheese 2

Now that I'm retired
And know I can't be fired
I'll do anything I damn well please
And I don't give a hoot
Who hears me when I toot
For I have grown acustomed to the cheese
Old women and old men
As they grow nearer their end
Really just don't care what people think
Say and do what's on their mind
For as they age they find
They kinda like to raise a little stink

Details | Elegy | |

Autumn Sun

You will find me again

In the place you’ve never been

Once everything’s said and done

In the heart of the autumn sun

When the weather drips its hues

Faint, fading colors

 the leaves will lose

Drop to the earth

 with a hint of white	

Falling under trees

 In the days’ waning light

Waves of Gold grown old

All your secrets and troubles untold

You shall call and I will hide

Forever will I be by your side

Details | Lyric | |

Nature's Sigh

The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face

So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go

Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh

Details | Rhyme | |

Dear Gran

I was just a child,
My heart did not know pain.
But I returned from school one day
My world never was the same

I learned that you had left us,
To join with the angels high above,
And the bitter tears fell down pale cheeks
In contrast with sweet love.

My heart had broken, shattered,
pieces strewn across the floor.
I longed to hear your voice again
And to embrace you just once more.

How was it so possible,
For a love to slip away?
For you to be taken from us so cruelly,
To never see the light of day?

I write for you, my loved one,
I write straight from the heart.
Ad I hope that if you happen to look down,
You’re at least proud of me for that.

You are the inspiration
Behind this poem than I write
And my words can not revive you
But I can hope that one day,
Maybe, they just might.

Details | Free verse | |

Black Fingered Pond

Again death swirls its black finger 
around the aura of pristine ponds.
That now sprout the stoutest weeds
where sleepy lilies and emerald songs used to breathe
where souls once rested so naturally.

Again it swirls its black finger
leaving me slightly paler than life
never quite as fleet as death,
(the cigarette popped party balloon,
the darkest swayback best)

Details | Rhyme | |

Buy my pegs

A gypsy woman came and said,
‘I know you’ll want to purchase these.’
My granny firmly shook her head,
unmoved by all the gypsy’s pleas.

The gypsy tried a savage stare,
and pointed to my granny’s purse.
‘If you don’t buy my pegs, I swear,
I’ll hit you with a nasty curse.’

‘A curse won’t work if blood is drawn,’ 
my granny said. ‘Although I’m old,
I’ll pummel you upon the lawn.’
She chased the gypsy up the road…

…I heard the gypsy hollerin’ 
as Granny stuck her with a pin!

* A true story 

Written 10th March, for Francine’s Funnybone contest

Details | Rhyme | |

Finding A Box Of Life

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!

Details | Free verse | |


On Memorial Day I am haunted and flooded with so much grief.
My Mother lies next to my Grandmother and they next to my Great Aunt.
My Fathers name is there, too, but blessedly he’s not there yet.
Such great memories are restored as I look at each stone.
Once again I’m a rambling child with no kids of my own.
I remember the safety they afforded me, and all the treats and their love.
All their little sacrifices they gave, when I was still too young to know.
Why did I chase after a kitten when Grandma was so close by my side?
A simple tug on her skirt and she would of hugged me and smiled with pride.
Why was I discovering butterflies, when my Great Aunt was close there too?
She made the best pies EVER from scratch while I played in another room.
Why did I take Mom for granted… when as a child she gave me so much?
What I wouldn’t give for her gentle touch… and another soothing hug…
And Grandpa lies by Grandma… he was always repairing something or by her side.
And now there are all my aunts, uncles, and cousins that are all scattered around. 
They made Christmas my favorite time as their talk and laughter rang out.
They’d laugh, talk, and enjoy each other’s company, as I’m sure now they do.
I can’t imagine them in any other way, than at my Grandma’s on those wonderful 
We’d sit down to a holiday feast with everyone all around and it all seemed like play.
Were they then thinking of others that they knew from long ago?

As I walk around the graveyard picking out old friends, I remember their wistful 
They did the same each year, as they talked about the past even back then.
Perhaps its time my stone goes there, though I’ve a few more years to go.
That will help my children when it’s also my time to go…
And surprisingly it makes me feel I’m not leaving the older family alone.
It’s like a kiss, and a tug on a skirt to leave that something behind.
It’s a promise… they’ll be remembered until it too, is my time…
Until then I’ll bring my children and tell stories from long ago…
One day a year can’t be too much since it’s memories that I bestow. 
And they all simply add up to the life that I have known.

Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.

Details | Free verse | |


In a corner of the town, stands a building of antiques.
Not an ordinary building but one that percepts the imagination;
sense datum begins and a scene takes place.

I am transpose to my great grandmother days.
I see the rocking chair that she owed 
and the Raggedy Ann Doll given to me by her.

She is telling the store’s owner about his antiques
that this rocking chair was her favorite piece.
Oh, and she would like this doll for her grandbaby.

She said she wanted several rooms of furniture.
All must be vintage like her.
However, do not think of her as old.

She was short and plump with olive skin.
Her hair radiance gleamed.
Her smile meant everything.

She almost forgot my small gift that is when she shouted Lagniappe.
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Contest Name: Antiques

Details | Sonnet | |

Oh mum don't kill me

oh mum, don't kill me if you can't afford dowry.
oh mum,don't kill me if you want a boy to birth,
oh mum, throw me alive to live on this earth,
oh mum, don't dig a hole to hide me as indian myth;
oh mum, just educate me then never feel sorry.
i shall serve you as a servant don't feel pain my living,
please ask my brother if he can protect me if dare having.
I can walk on thorns to keep you happy don't cage my 
why is Indian culture don't believe that I am also human?
why is security matter for me as a man is nudity fan?
don't afraid from gangs they are coward can't face a girl,
they can't love to daughter and sisters, looking beauty 
they kill girls, demanding dowry, live in a cultural 
when women 'll be free in india that's facing degrading 

Details | Narrative | |


Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?

When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"

The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.

It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 

There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.

But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.

Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...

Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Epulaeryu | |

My Grandmother's Masterpiece

My sweet grandmother bakes it
Tangy fruit inside
The crust sprinkled with sugar
Take a great big bite
Sensational taste
Red cherry 

Details | Rhyme | |


pretty amazing to behold,
once of a llfetime story never before been told.
behind all the biggest miracle:
there is a woman in every age,
blessed above all the rest of the mother's,
from the beginning,
ever since time began,
you journeyed and fought a good race,
besides everything that we do,
you are a mother, wife, sister, aunt, and grandma,
because of you,
I am not lost.
you found me on low,
you stood by me in every hurt that I cost.
mother of all heritage,
you beloved are a blessing of all miracles.

Details | Senryu | |

lost behind fragile glass

she smiles cautiously

as if she knows who I am....

I live on her nightstand

For Senryu Contest: Sponsered by Black Eyed Susan

Details | Quatrain | |

Grandma's Legacy

My grandma had a green thumb
She loved to garden, plant and grow
Didn't matter where they're from
Snatching cuttings wherever she'd go

Her pockets filled with seeds from trips to and fro
Labeling the envelops with names as she was home
Plant variety was something she would know
She also knew specific times when seeds should be sown

Her garden was her solace throughout her hardened life
She planted seeds and grew her plants anywhere she stay
Always fed her family through depression and strife
Many rows of vegetables were planted in her day

Years have passed and she is gone her love of planting seeds
Was passed on through her family who now are pulling weeds. 

Jennifer Marie Oliver

Details | Free verse | |


Her letters came with regularity,
full of news and everyday ordinary things.
"I love your letters," she said.
"They're just like talking to you."

I wrote to my grandmother,
for all of her days. 
My missives spelled graduation,
my first job,
our hurry-up wedding,
your mission in Japan,
the move out west,
return to mid-country,
and the birth of each child-
everyday ordinary things.

I think she hovers over my shoulder
as I write to the grandchildren,
those chatty emails full of news
and everyday ordinary things.

No stamp required, 
	say what you want,
		        press send.

They'll read them, 
		        and hit delete.

Details | Rhyme | |

A Visit With My Great Grandma

          I Went To Visit My Great Grandma
         For A Couple Of Days
          And That Made Me Happy
         In So Many Ways
          I Spent A Lot Of Time
         Inside Of Her Room
          I Didn't Want To 
         Leave So Soon
          I Think It
         Was So Much Fun
          It Felt As If
         It Had Just Begun
          We Laughed So Hard
         We Almost Cried 
          And Before We Knew It
         It Was Time To Say Goodbye

Details | Quatrain | |

The Building of a Moment

The value of a precious novelty
it seems is intricate fragility.
Recall special trinkets kept in a hutch
for display only, not opened to touch.

Keepsakes in prison, upheld, unimpaired.
reminder of events  that once were shared.
One is now kept in a glass étagère
collectible curio set there with care.

Awaiting the finding of a misplaced key,
a new piece tempted curiosity.
Too precious to be ignored, my granddaughter
played with it carefully, warned by her mother.

Rejecting caution, which kids oft ignore
she forgot it, leaving it there on the floor.
The next day, her brother found it with his foot.
One piece now  three pieces, broken,  kaput.

Comes precious moment, happening on my watch.
Crying sister faults her brother for her botch
who then returns accusations with blame.
Common occurrence, accompanied by shame.
Moment develops as we find the glue.
Are there chips still missing?  We find a few.
Together,  three of us talk as we work.
Accountability comes with its perks.

The most precious of moments in history -
when that collectible met surgery.
Years later it stands tall, gathering dust
priceless symbol of joint effort and fuss.

Details | I do not know? | |

Blue Rose

The Blue Rose
secretly grows
upon a Hill of Heathers
seldom do know

Songs speak of its
but few have lived to see
its rich blood blue petals
smells of sweet ginger and honey

The legend has it
the blue rose can cure
a thousand different ailments
although, I am not

My Grandmother told me
if you eat three petals
before you sleep
the disease which
infects, out of you
it will seep

Not many have heard
the powers of the 
blue rose
for it secretly grows
where seldom
do know

Details | Rhyme | |

An Ordinary Pot

In my kitchen I have an ordinary pot but it's very special to me,
because this pot belonged to my Grandmother you see.
Big and black with handles on the side,
not much to look at with the naked eye.
She could orchestrate the food with a wave of her hand,
just like holding a baton to lead the band.
Now I am the composer of the recipes,
with an ordinary pot that's very special to me.

Details | Narrative | |

The Beautiful Hands of the Bridegroom A true story

~The Beautiful Hands of the Bridegroom(A true story)
   "Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two, and this story . . . "

~My grandmother called me one day disturbed  by a recurring open vision, 
  saying, “Two beautiful hands were let down unto me from the ceiling. 
  “What does it mean? I keep seeing these hands every night after 
   I lie down in bed.” 

~Immediately, I knew the answer.  I said, grandma, the left hand has 
   a wedding ring, on the left finger, does it not? A brief silence on the 
   other end of the phone, “Why yes John it sure does, now that you 
   mention it. It is the most beautiful wedding ring that I have ever seen.” 
   To which I replied, “Granny, it is your Lord assuring you that He is your 
   spiritual husband. Do not be sad when He comes to take you home“ 
   I reassured my eighty year old grandmother. She said, ”Yes that is exactly 
   what it means. I had not thought of that.” 

~This was a divinely granted clear plan given to my granny afterwards 
   she was never frightened of death again. 

~A few days later, my expression of principle said,” One day soon I will 
   awaken your granny New in the night and tell her to go into the living 
   room and sit on the couch, for it will be the time that I will take her 
   soul home with me. 

~About eight months later the shuttle truck for the elderly stopped at 
   my granny’s door one morning to take her into town for dinner with her 
   friends. She did not answer the door. The body could be seen through 
   the window, sitting upright on the couch hands folded in lap with head 
   leant to one side as if asleep. The fully clad body wore house shoes... 
   This was the adoption of my dear granny… Martha New.

Details | I do not know? | |

A place in my memory

Those lonely roads lined with touch-me-not's rain smudged walls and thatched roof tops long walked paths between the grass hearty smiling faces that pass a tiny spec at a distance far looming high in the clear blue sky a close glance at the house so dear with flowers blooming by so near The coconut trees swaying with the breeze tranquil river flowing on with ease fishermen holler and row on the sun up high its already noon the cattle rustling in the shed tired farm hands toiling for bread the smell of fresh baked rice cakes and of smoke that emanates Grannys dear face lit up bright crooning pleased at my sight hugged me close enclosed in warmth i ventured on inside The familiar room bathed in light I lay face up on the old cot ravishing the familiar feel fading into slumber longed I wake from a distant dream and ache pining for the long lost home however i may move on for within me my home lives on. © Nadiya (25 Jan '15)

Details | Rhyme | |

Cream Cake

Little cream cake on the train from France 
Lit a fire in my mind and my heart began to dance 
Memories buzzing through my brain 
Thanks for the visit, I'm glad you came

Filled with fondest memories
Of days spent with you, heart full, carefree 
Loved and adored, my moment in the sun 
No doubt in your eyes that I was number one

Long ago you and I made a pact you see
You said, if you could, you'd come back to me 
It's been a long time, didn't know how long you'd take 
And just right then, you jumped out of my cream cake

I know love has no end cos yours is still with me 
Whispering I'm here and will always be 
For you I live my life like my life is at stake 
Thanks Nan for your visit and for my cream cake

Details | Free verse | |

My Granny

My Granny

My Granny's name was Edna
But no one could say it
So they called her Bonnie
And she was

My Granny watered her ferns with Disprin
Every Saturday morning
She said it made them flourish
And it did

My Granny slept with four pillows
Every night
She said it stopped her snoring
But it didn't

My Granny drove a yellow Anglia to town
Wearing her best hat
She said it went too fast
And it did

My Granny loved her Sherry a lot
All the time
She said that she didn't
But she did

My Granny only saw happiness in the world
She took me everywhere beautiful
Whenever she could
And she did

My Granny lost her husband at 44
She never remarried
She said she wouldn't
And she didn't

My Granny loved me very much
And told me all the time
She said I would be a writer
And I am

My Granny died in hospital
From Pneumonia at 84
She said you've been a brick Darling
And I was

My Granny was a special person
She was kind to everyone
I told her I loved her whenever I could
And I always will

Details | Prose | |


She has become
Like a thin Chinese tea cup
Placed upon a large rock
She has become… fragile
Afraid to go anywhere
Least she break

She sits outside
When the weather is clear
Reading the same book
She has read for many years
Painfully turning the pages
With crooked fingers

I see her smile
As the lines on her face
Seem to multiply ten fold
While she tries to remember
Why she is smiling

When the cooler weather
Dances around her
She wears a long soft scarf
Wrapped many times
Around her neck
To keep the cold away

She will ask me
"When will my friends
Be coming by?"
And I sit next to her
Hold her hand
And say to her
Soon Grandma… soon

Details | Blank verse | |


When you leave me, nothing will ever be the same again,
You have taught me so much and your love was never ending,
I will never forget the way you smiled and the way you made the ones around you feel safe,
This poem may not rhyme, but the words I feel for you are not in any dictionary,
therefore rhymes are impossible,
you have been my rock, my reliable, strong rock, but now my rock is floating away and soon I will never see my rock again.
I wont lie and say everything was grand,
we have never really met eye to eye,
and we have hurt each other with our words, but words would never hurt our heart if we did not feel love,
that is all I feel for you,
This is my love letter to you, my way of saying thank you,
thank you for the laughs and the cries and the ups and the downs,
this is my everlasting gratitude.
I love you.

Details | Free verse | |

Beneath the Furrows Beneath the Lines

Beneath the deep furrows
and the facial lines
clear sparkling
cheeky little girls
playful eyes
still smile
and shine.

''Many a time when I have talked to old people who I love, about their childhood, suddenly
something magical happens. Their eyes sparkle, and they become children again.''

Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.

Details | Kimo | |


                   she is the most beautiful wild flower
                       time ran fast fades the glamour
                               living in twilight zone.

Details | Free verse | |


rocks in the rocking chair
with her granddaughter by her side,
she’s grown into an ambitious young woman,
she asks nana how it was
when she was young &
wondering if so many people back then
were so disillusioned
with the way that things were going
in their country---
grandma asks her to turn off the tv.,
grandma turns to her to say,
“when i was younger i had hope that
things were gonna change,
i stood in the streets with my friends &
we fought against the police &
we all went to jail,
because we didn’t believe in the wars that
our country was waging,
we didn’t believe in the way that our 
country was treating its own citizens &
we didn’t feel that things would change
unless we ourselves did something…”

and then there was a pause &
her granddaughter smiled anxiously,
because she always looked up to her
nana for guidance, advice & wisdom---

but her grandmother didn’t say a thing 
after that---she just looked out the window
& kept rocking in her chair.

Details | Rhyme | |

We Went to Grandma's House

We went to Grandma’s house the other day! And brought some gifts along the way! We enjoyed our time and our wonderful visit We’re glad we had time with her! We wouldn’t miss it! We took her out and did some shopping in town… There were some good buys waiting to be found! We had a chance to have dinner with her too! This was an opportunity we wanted to do! We had a chance to talk about the days of past. Our memories of her, is something that will last! We enjoyed our time with grandma! Yes we did! She always has something worthwhile to give! We thank the Lord for a special grandma like this! Our times together have been happy and bliss! Please take good care of her Lord, is our prayer! Keep her in your tender mercy and care! We look forward to the next time we spend together! She’ll always be our grandma! Today and forever! By Jim Pemberton

Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.

Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,

all women.


Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,

all women.


Think of how you treat,


all women.


Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,



all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Details | Free verse | |

My Heritage

My heritage is a mixture
Of backgrounds.  Let's start on 
My Dad's side of the family.

My Dad's mom is Irish and English.

My Dad's dad is Irish and German.

My Mom's mom is Scottish and Irish.

My Mom's dad is blood Hungarian.

So in other words,
I'm a mutt!  or as others say,
"Heinz 57!"

Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.

Details | Quatrain | |


WAITING FOR GOD At four score years and ten Our Gran is physically spry But her mind is beginning to wander And I often ask God, "Why?" She's a most delightful lady With smooth, porcelain-like skin She loves her large family And has the most wicked of grins. But her mind is beginning to wander And she's now starting to live in the past It's hard for her to remember Who's who at the family repasts. She loves to be among the children But she doesn't know who they all are Not only is her mind beginning to wander She's now taken to walking afar. One day we couldn't locate her We walked twice around the block We had to call in the police It gave us all such a shock. We found her sitting at the bus stop It really was quite odd We asked her what she was doing She answered, smiling sweetly, "Waiting for God." © ELR 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |


My father painted
western landscapes and bluebonnets
in a manner that can be described as “primitive.” 
He painted with his heart to stay sane 
in the never-sane world 
of the mens’ tubercular sanitarium.
From what little I actually know of him
he was a man of conscience 
and strength 
and love for his family.
He may have been other things too, 
but I can’t possibly know for certain 
except from the stories I’ve been told.
In these stories he was almost a saint.

When I was twelve he was sent home to die,
although no one told me. 
I remember him lying in bed in our front room. 
I touched his puffy leg, leaving a white dimple.
We laughed. 
He said we would make plans for time together,
just the family,
when he was better. 

One anonymous night 
I stayed with my grandmother 
for no reason I could figure out, 
although I really didn’t give it much thought. 
In the darkest part of that night 
my mother woke me 
to tell me he was dead. 
I don’t remember my reaction,
but I don’t think I cried. 
Men didn’t do that, you see. 
I do remember eating cake after his funeral 
at what I recently heard called 
a “funeral party.” 

I have a way of forgetting painful times.
For a long time after his death
my memory is a blank. 

Now, I am a painter. 
I don’t paint his landscapes or bluebonnets, 
but, like my father, 
it brings a breath of sanity to my world, 
completing the long-delayed circle of his life.

Details | Rhyme | |

Gran's Got Gerbils

 The following poem is based on a true story 

We were sitting down one evening when the phone began to ring,
“Hello mum,” said Father, “Can I help with anything?”
Grandmother then answered, “There’s a gerbil in my house!”
“Do you really mean a gerbil? Don’t you mean a mouse?”
“I’m certain it’s a gerbil,” My grandmother defended,
“And the fact you think I’d get that wrong makes me feel offended.”
“I’m sorry, but a gerbil? Are you really sure?”
“Yes I am. It must be one of those they’ve got next door.”
“We’re on our way.” Said my Dad and then hung up the phone,
And then within the hour we were at Grandmother’s home.

“Ok Mum, please tell me, just what did you see?”
“It came out from the kitchen and went under the TV.”
Dad went in a cupboard and then took out a trap,
Set it with some chocolate and waited for the “Snap!”,
It only took a moment, and what do you suppose?
A great big rat staggered out, the trap caught on its nose!
Dad chased it to the garden and gave it quite a whack,
“It’s ok Mum, that gerbil is never coming back”,
“Thank you Son, you know that I’d have struggled doing that,
But it could have been so much worse. It could have been a rat!”

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

Details | Narrative | |


From England's dark blackout
We came to these shores
I and my siblings
In refuge from war.
How enchanted we were
With all we saw.

First Sydney's fine harbour
And her bridge of one span
Then the azure blue sea
The long beaches of sand
The beautiful city lit up at night
To our youthful eyes a wondrous sight.

The Aussie soldier in his famous slouch hat
The long train journey to the far outback
The Cockies screech the Kookaburra's cackle
New sights and sounds for my brain to tackle.
The grazing sheep the fields of wheat
The fun of the master the blistering heat
The long hot summers with respite at the sea
Where we swam and surfed in unspoilt glee.

School days were spent in city or mountain retreat
Strict was the discipline our uniforms neat.
Happy the friendships spacious the grounds
Nuns telling rosary beads flitting around.
With firmness and patience they taught us well
Recreation was announced by the tolling bell.

Oh the joy when the holidays came
What fun we had on the old school train.
It trundled along past wilga and gum
Past meandering creeks and billabongs
Past Emus grazing and Roos hopping along
Through wide open spaces rich in bird song.

At the graceful homestead with veranda surround
Stood the welcoming grandmother so recently found.
With parents far off she gave care and love
How proud we were of her pioneer blood.
She cooked and scrubbed and chopped the wood
She could do everything she really could.

But tragedy stuck
With her soldier son killed.
She grieved and withered and lost her will.
No longer in her life
Would he take part
Months later she died of a broken heart.

There came a time when with many tears
I bade farewell to this life so dear.
I had no choice I had to go.
The years passed on
I missed it all so.

This time when I came
I touched down by plane.
New visions flood my startled brain
Australia I find is absorbed in change
it makes me feel so very strange.

The laid back Aussie with his old world charm
A computer wiz now and amazingly calm.
The coastline is cluttered highrises abound
The noise of the traffic an ugly sound.
But the song of the Bellbird is still a wonder
It soothes my senses as I ponder.

For no land on earth has so much to offer.
So I’ll settle here I will not hover.
Perhaps the maternal ancestors smile from above.
For at last I'm here In the land they loved.
And I'll spend the twilight of my years
In this country I've always held so dear.

Details | Free verse | |

Hanging Roses in Windows

I learned from my grandmother
To dry roses in windows
Hung, upside down, from a string-
Maybe because that way
All the red would flow to their head
Like when one does handstands-
Handstands are never something 
That I learned how to do
Particularly satisfactorily...
I've always been a bit too-

I learned from my mother
Not to hang around windows,
That I am not a rose
To be put up to dry...
When you spend so long
Leaning over windowsills,
You can only ever be-

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Grandma And Grandpa

Our children loves the advice
you give them!
The organic food you prepare
for them!
The affection,laugh and smile
you give them!
Happy grandma and grandpa
We all heartily love you!

Details | Free verse | |

This Lovely Vase

This Lovely Vase

This lovely vase
So delicate and fine
Shines now by the window.

This lovely vase
Has known more years than I
Known the touch of many

This lovely vase
Once a Wedding present 
So my Nana said

This lovely vase
Once stood with flowers tall
Nana’s home grown blooms

This lovely vase
A careless touch and then
Fragments on the floor

This lovely vase
Pieces now were gathered
Mended then with gold

This lovely vase
As it sits there on the window
Catching sun’s bright glow

This lovely vase
More lovely than before
Now trimmed in gold 

This lovely vase
Healed by the scars of time
Still with grace and beauty

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

A Letter To My First Crush

A LETTER TO MY FIRST CRUSH My Dearest Kevin My hands shake nervously as I write this letter The fountain pen drips the ink in heart-shapes Pieces of my heart as it reach out to you I just want you to know that loving you isn’t easy My dozen of Harlequins and my entire Mill @ Boon collection Have'nt prepared me To deal with a player like you I heard it through the grapevine, That you are heartbreaker and womanizer With only one thing on your adolescence mind My grandmother always told me, that Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free My grandma is a wise woman More like a heroine in my eyes I am the heroine of my life More like a Nancy Drew without a clue on how to love you I am never satisfy, I am curious And mysterious However I am very chary Kind of gal ^ I do believe that I am in love with you today However, I might hate you tomorrow Because you never know with a secret admirer To the man I love today They are nothing more than I can say. I will wait for your reply my love

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Ever since I can remember we visit my grandmother´s house every Sunday.  In the dinning room were we usually spend the while there, she has always had this big glass carved showcase lying against the wall. This big showcase of hers has all types of dolls you can imagine. Is a collection a hobby of her that since I can remember it grows bigger every time. From Matryoshka dolls until Mariachi dolls we can see up there in her collection. Dolls from many places around de world: France, Russia, China and Germany are some examples. My father tells me she collects this dolls since he was a kid, from house to house they have lived on she has taken this big showcase of hers. My grandmother is a collector, and yes she has probably more than 20 different nationality dolls, but this doesn’t mean she has been all around the world. People that know her and care for her always bring her a doll as present when they come back from a vacation. Sometimes I ask her things about the dolls, and every single time no matter her age she always remember the dolls that are the most special to her. Some are presents from other people, and others were bought by herself, but from this special dolls she can give all the exact information. Off course the majority of the dolls she doesn’t even remember from which place they come from or who gave them to her, but I see the smile on her face every time we talk about this showcase, and I feel happy myself only by thinking how an object that she has save for so many years have a great value to her. But most of all I feel happy that one of this special dolls is a present from me and every once in a while when she remembers she thanks me for this doll and tells me that is one of her favorites. 

Details | Rhyme | |

An old wives tale

Once upon a time when I was just but a little a boy
My grandmother of illustrious memory – told me many a story
A lot of them funny but some scary 
But her favourite tale which I am about to retell
Its effect on me, i suppose should not tell
The one about the young man who refused to marry
Preferring to become an ascetic to the displeasure of his family
For they were inclined to believe – that all those who breathe in air 
Surely must leave an heir!
His refusal to marry – pained them all
And many a plan were hatched to sway his mind – but to no avail
Confounded they approached the village sage to explain this mystery
Who cautioned the young man would soon have a case of dysentery
Serious enough to require hospitalization – but one that won’t send him to the cemetery
And as soon as the illness is past, he would surely marry
With this wisdom the family went home rejoicing and merry
Voices high and throaty marveling at this new found posterity
By and by the young man was struck down with dysentery
And no sooner had he recovered he married the village beauty
Much to the amusement of his family who knew all that had happened to the boy
This story my grandmother would recite
Countless times to us little boys long into the night
Toss and turn, turn and toss all night long but our little minds could not fathom
What the young man’s decision to marry had to do with dysentery!
And when I told my fellows at school this story
Don’t know am sure, whether it was under the mulberry or at the refectory
They all agreed that my grandmothers wisdom
Which she had tossed to me sitting at her mahogany was nothing but baloney
When I recounted this to her, she smiled complacently
 Aware this curios case of beauty and dysentery I would cherish for eternity.

Details | Free verse | |

In My Grandmother's Day

Nana told me once
how she and Pop-pop
went courting in a

How quaint I
thought, and was a
amazed how far we
humans have gone--
from a smelly
plodding horse to
an ocean in an
afternoon six miles

Then Grandma told me
something shocking:
she said they went
out in that carriage
to make love! Nana!
I gasped silently,
until I saw she
meant the words
my grandparents went
courting to make
the love that would
hold them together
for sixty-three
years...and I am
because two young
people took long
buggy rides behind a
tired, smelly horse.

Details | Blank verse | |

Angel in disguise

You always said 
you were proud of me.
Even now, I can't imagine why.

Holding fast to reality,
from the bottom 
we can only climb.

Perhaps it was pity 
clouding your judgment;
guilt to keep expectations 

Then you always did 
feel responsible,
though the burden was never yours to hold.

I was a troubled soul 
for so many reasons,
none of which was from a lack of your grace.

So shine it down upon my face,
because I need it now 
more than ever.

You were my angel in disguise,
the fairest I ever knew.

I loved you then 
and I love now,
so rest in peace 

fair lady.

Details | Haiku | |

noritake haiku

in spring she whispers a sip of shinto sun wen lotus sways below cobalt sky a thought of sobo pink cherry blossom's swirl the porcelain plate hands folded in prayer _______________________________________________________ Sobo- Grandmother Shinto- All Nature / Worship / Ancestors / Spirit / Belief / Sacred Power Noritake Cobalt / Piled 3-high / A Sip Saki or Sake' then passed / Three Three Nine / A Geisha gets her name / Shinto

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Grandmother's Spotted Tablecloth

Grandmother's spotted tablecloth has withstood all the town gossip
and ancestral judgment calls, casually, as it may rest on her mahogany table,
It has been the subject of numerous fables,

An unexpected gift handed down from generation, Granny's affinity to its unusual
colors, patterns and intricacy of art, has made the item one of her favorite parts of the day,

The way it deflects the morning sun light, as the clouds play peek-a-boo,

Oh, the elders may quarrel and have their say about Granny's eccentric ways
and loyalty to a flimsy piece of material, but, only she understands the complicated
serial numbers woven in the much talked about tapestry,

To her, it is more than an adornment for her lightly scarred , antique table,

It is her reason for believing that God truly exists.......

Details | Bio | |

Great Grandmother

Sara Kind, compassionate, gentle, loving Great grandmother of Karter Who feels great love for Karter Great gran who feels care and concern Great gran who fears the future of earth Who would like to see peace and economic stability for whole world Residence of USA
Several have asked about Karter I was going to write this for Carol's contest but did not get it done.. Click on "About this Poem"

Details | ABC | |

Gramma's House

Gramma's house.
Gramma's is a large and brown.
With flowers all around.
Long green steps to the pouch.
With chairs three to spare.
As you enter you can smell 
All the nice things she do have.
She bakes in her kitchen. 
A sweet apple pie for you and I. 
It's nice to go to Gramma's house.
She lives at the end of the lane

Details | Rhyme | |

A Home Brew Fiasco

A Home Brew Fiasco

My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for this kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!

Sun was about set into its rosy red glow
three hills over was square dance and show
I set me a mighty happy and quickened pace
so very eager to get to that dancing place!

I hear that fast fiddle singing from afar
stop to drink last liquor from my fruit jar
Another burn that went down mighty fine
whiskey my favorite, never cottoned to wine!

One more high hill to just climb on past
swirling head tells my legs to please last
Sun has set and darkness so rapidly falls
music rings louder its beckoning calls!

Another hundred steps and I'll be there
singing, dancing and pretty gals everywhere
Ease myself up against this restful oak tree
surely a rest will be so very good for me!

Eyes heavy and dark clouds coming on down 
now is no time to worry, no time to frown
Darkness races into this tired old brain
no worries, rest easy avoid all the strain!

Morning sunlights breaks between the trees
O' my, pray I didn't sleep all night please
Suddenly I hear the morning call of a dove
I missed out on last night's dance and love!

My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for that kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!

Robert J. Lindley , 08-21-2014

Inspired by a story my uncle told me back in 
1965. How grandfather once made moonshine and 
missed out on his first date with grandmother.
Luckily she was a forgiving woman and grandfather
a very handsome man or else they'd never married
and I would not be here to sling tha' ink!

Details | Narrative | |


Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
Shrunken and fragile the form
That long was brimful of vigor
And a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
Through a door that I do not know;
The colors she sees are mem'ries,
Scents and sounds of the long ago.

A kaleidoscope of faces
Turns merry-go-round in her mind;
While trees out her window whisper
Soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting 
Draws her back to this metal room,
Away from a creaking rocker
And her mama's sweet, gentle croon.

If is not my name she whispers
As I bend down to kiss her cheek,
But a name more dear than ever
Mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I'm no more a part of her world;
The grandma that soothed my sorrows
Is once again Papa's wee girl.

Details | Free verse | |

The Healer Part III (from my life story)

At the age of twenty two I gave birth to my first child to survive. A beautiful 
and flawless daughter with dark brown eyes and hair like mine.  When she turned five years 
of age warts began to grow on her hands. My daughter cried with eyes looking to me for the 
answer. The same eyes that looked up at The Healer Ms Agnes who cast away my warts so 
long ago.  

As with me, Traditional Medicine did not work and Ms Agnes and my Grandmother were long 
dead. Grandmother taught me how to use the herbs to heal when I was so young. 
Remembering getting rid of warts was a BIG job made me take pause.  If Grandma 
couldn't get the job done who was I to think that I somehow could. I stubbornly tried all 
Grandma had taught me, but only in vain. How my heart ached for the knowledge and power 
of The Healer Ms Agnes.

Such fretful sleeps did come as I felt hopeless for the answer to my daughters plight. And 
then it happened one calm and starry night. A deep sleep finally came so strong over me. 
While sleeping, right before me came a vision of The Healer Ms Agnes.  The very next 
morning I awoke with an idea of something new to try. 

With a calm and soothing voice I sat my daughter down. I took her precious little hands in 
mine. Gently I touched and counted all the scaly knobs I could find. All the memories came 
flowing back and the story I began to recant.  I closed my eyes and for the first time spoke 
about how my warts were taken away  I felt a little detached as I recalled each 
detail I could to conjure up the Spirit of The Healer Ms Agnes.

When I opened mine and met my daughters awestruck eyes her hands were still in mine.  
As I gave them a gentle squeeze I said " Maybe. Just maybe there's enough of the Spirit of 
The Healer Ms Agnes left in there for you too.  A question came to the edge of my mind. 
What if The Healer Spirit spell is reversed? It could be my curse for meddling with The Spirits 
That Be. The answer came as quick as a spark.  I would gladly wear mine again if it meant 
my daughter' would not.

On the fourth morning after that day my daughter awoke me with such a scream. I rushed 
to her bedside to see what was the matter. Lo and behold there among the bedsheets were 
the remains of her warts. Dumbfounded and bewildered I was left with no comprehension 
and speechless while I embraced my daughter with congratulations. As I took my leave out 
of her sight I slowly stretched out my hands to see if my warts had returned. I mused aloud 
when I saw they had not.

Continued in Part IV....

Details | Free verse | |

Beautiful Lace

Eyes of piercing true,
ever so blue.

I hope you knew 
as you flew on the wings of grace,
your life was like beautiful lace.

In that lace 
was a place,
just for me.

Details | Ballad | |

Grandma and the Selkie

My grandmother came from Ireland from far across the sea. She had romantic tales to tell to Sister and to me. She angered my darling mother by filling up our heads with stories of the little folk who lived beneath our beds. She whispered us a secret that our mama didn’t know. She said that it would be better if we would keep it so. When she crossed the sea from Ireland, she had a little lad. He was already two years old before she met Granddad. She told Grandfather her story, a selkie stole her heart. He came as a handsome mortal and fooled her from the start. He loved her and then he left her, was claimed back by the sea. The only thing she had of him was a wee lad to be. She knew right from the start, her son was borrowed fom the sea. In time his tie to land would end however long that be. She watched him growing tall, with dread, as handsome as his sire. He wandered near or wandered far, girls gathered to admire. Before our eyes our grandma changed and she became the girl who long ago had loved a man who set her heart awhirl. He had deep eyes of darkest brown, and unreal velvet skin. He charmed her as no Irish lad would know how to begin. “Where is he then, our dear uncle?” My sister and I cried. “I guess the folks who knew him well, would tell you that he died. They saw him walking by the sea, watching the tide come in. Though we searched for many a day he was not seen again.” Now when I see the silky seals on warm rocks in the sea I fancy one is a selkie, who looks a bit like me.
( I have read that male selkies are very handsome in their human form and have great seduction powers over mortal women. Poor grandma then was a young Irish lass, full of dreams and he was so handsome. In their true form they look very much like seals.)

Details | I do not know? | |

Morning before sunrise

Light is almost clear
The morning is here
Beautiful light, beautiful moment
Your grandmother and all it has been 
Now or then before a sunrise moment.

Details | Quatrain | |


Certain things are just not said,
When we're in certain comp'ny.
Words and phrases seldom heard,
Are often looked at funny.

No longer is good common sense,
The rule of thumb, the norm,
So often plainly spoken words,
Will take on different form;

'Cause most folks just don't listen,
To what is being said,
And oft the words go rattling 'round.
Inside an empty head;

Then they draw their own conclusions,
Concerning what you said,
Even though they've not a clue,
The story they will spread.

If what you hear sounds strange to you,
The facts a little off,
Consider who you're talking to,
Before you laugh and scoff,

At someone you may barely know,
If in fact at all,
And what you heard is hearsay,
Just gossip all in all.

When others speak, just listen,
And make sure you understand.
Keep your mind upon the topic,
Don't short change your fellow man.

Remember to speak plainly,
Not to be misunderstood,
And remember too that gossip,
Don't do anybody good.

(Have you ever noticed that those who talk the most are usually the ones who have little else to do?  And often they really don't know much more than we do. My grandmother used to say the dog on the shortest chain does the most barking.)

Details | Rhyme | |

The Donut Fable

Jack and Jane loved to go to good ol' grandma's house.
She always baked delicious things that taste good in your mouth.
Donuts were a specialty and both kids loved the taste
Of sweet hot melting goodness...not a crumb to waste.
But Jack was a mischievous boy and just a little naughty
He figured how to get both shares, enjoying his own party.
Jane was quiet, a good, sweet girl, she just didn't see
That Jack was surely looking out for "one and only me."
Grandma heard Jack say to Jane..."I have the perfect fix!
I'll save  the holes for you from ev'ry donut on my lips."
Poor Jane agreed and down they went, Jack ate every one,
And Jane had nothing left to eat; it wasn't any fun.
Grandma knew she had to stop the selfish little Jack.
She made a sweet surprise for Jane, her own delicious snack.
She frosted all the donut holes and decorated each;
Next day, Jane got them all while Jack got quite a speech
About how little children with everyone should share
Especially their own sisters...that is only fair!
Now all you little children who listen to this fable,
Be kind to one another and share each time you're able.

July 11, 2014
Inspired by an old Sunday School story

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Bit of Irish

I have a bit of Irish in me
From Grandma Mary Halloway.
My German part is quite subdued
On this my grandma's holiday.

The Scotch and English part of Mom
Combined with Irish from Grandma
Make up the whole of half of me.
The rest is German from my pa.

A boiled potato and green beans
Was part of Grandma's daily fare,
But adding cabbage and corned beef
Made up a feast beyond compare.

On St Patrick's of every year,
I think about my family tree.
And wear the green to show my pride
In the quarter Irish part of me.

Details | Free verse | |

For Grandma Carol

I'll hold fast, cling to the echo of your fading chime.
Remember the intonations of your wisdom, revel
in the moments that were a balm to my soul as it 
was young, and breaking free. 
Your blood still runs, in these veins..
alive in my journey. 
My heart beats in rememberance,
the song of my ancestors;
I'll hold it here, in this blood
that you gave and know 
that you are still with me. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

Details | Rhyme | |


To my Grandma whose bond I share
For everything you have done with love and care

So much and yet you give more
Endless are the things I thank you for

Here is something simple, a mere piece
From the gifts you helped nurture and release

Details | I do not know? | |

Rest In Peace

I miss my grandmother
I miss her so much
I miss everything about her
I also miss her touch

She has always been in my heart
And always will be,
Although her leaving me, tore me apart
Now think of all that she can see
Watching over her family night and day
Saying I love you in her own special way

Five hours were left before I could see her
But then a decision was made, which was her going far away
The last time I saw her, when I was saying goodbye
I didn’t realize it would be the last time, I didn’t know she would die
Never thought the day would come
That I would see her one last time

She was always there when no one else was
She never left my side
That's what a loving grandmother does
Everyone has their time
But why did yours have to come so soon?
There are so many people in the world
So why did God have to pick you?
They say things like this make you stronger
But how can that be?
I feel so weak inside, It all feels like a dream

I didn't get to see you
You passed away too soon
But I feel you watching over me
Someday I'll see you again
So I'll try to keep up with all this pain

July 14th, was the worst day of my life
Its as if someone had stabbed me with a knife
All I have to say, is that you’ll be missed any way
Rest In Peace.

Details | Rhyme | |

A Grandmother

A grandmother is someone who loves you and your soul
Someone who hugs you when you feel alone

She reads bedtime stories for you
And when you sleep she does the same too

She is the one who gifts you hugs and kisses
And when you are not there next to her you are the one she misses

For you she will be on her toes the whole time
And give you whatever you want from a stuff toy to a lime

She is the one who comforts you and loves you from her heart
And doesn’t care if you are dumb or smart

She is a person you can never forget
For if you want to also she will never let :)

Details | Rhyme | |

Pretty Is As Pretty Does

My Grandmother had a sage saying,
she would regale us with, many times.
With various nouns for exchanging.
But, the meaning rang clear like a chime.

"Pretty is as pretty does".
If, as a diva, on of us girls was heard.
She would hit us with that saying because,
she knew actions spoke louder than words.

Being of a religious nature,
she deplored and showed her discontent,
of those that would shout out their own praise, 
then would go about doing ill intent.

"Christian is as Christian does".
Grandma did guide us down that path.
She drummed into me that saying because,
she knew actions speak louder than words.

For the contest : In Other Words
Hosted by: Joe Flach
**  This poem was inspired by the wise sayings 
of my Grandmother who raised us. This one means...
Actions speak louder than words.

Details | Free verse | |

A Lonely/Lovely Path

When I was a young woman
Just embarking on my own life
My grandmother departed and
Left me a special gift – 

A small, delicately framed
Faded black and white photograph
Of a long foot worn path running
Through a tall field of wildflowers
With a pointed church steeple in the distance
And in the bottom corner - 
In my grandmother’s tiny European scrawl -
A title – as I read it then –
“A Lonely Path.”

I knew she had given it to me
To remind me of her and the time
We had travelled together 
A few years earlier
Back to her childhood homeland
To the small German village where
She had lived with her grandmother
And walked this very path.

In my grief, holding the picture
The title felt fitting - as I knew 
From the stories I learned 
On our journey to the place 
Of her lost and sad youth 
That she walked a lonely path 
For many years of her life. 

Illegitimate, abandoned by her father
Even before her birth
Sent away by her mother who
Couldn’t live with the pain of 
Seeing her child’s face 
So much like her absent father’s
Only to be brought back later
Like a real-life Cinderella 
To care for her stepsisters
Until bravely leaving Germany
On her own at seventeen 
To find a new path to walk 
in America and a family of her own. 

And now, half a lifetime later
Recovering from long term illness
I feel pulled to revisit family history 
And realize upon studying 
The photograph on the wall 
In my front hall that I have walked by 
For many years now with a tinge of sadness
That maybe I had read my grandmother’s title
All wrong. 

Rereading the note taped on the back 
That she had written just to me - 
    This is the view from Grandmother’s house
    The meadow full of wildflowers
    We would hear the Angelus ring from
    That church steeple at six in the morning,
    Twelve noon, and six in the evening –
    That meant run home , no matter what play
    And pray the Angelus – 
    I still love to hear church bells!
I see now the title she really gave the photograph -
And maybe her life too - was “A Lovely Path”

And yet, as I continue to regard
My grandmother’s handwriting
I can see both titles reflected there, 
Like one of those images that changes 
Shapes as the light hits it from different angles
And I knew that her real gift to me was knowing 
that we each walk our own lonely and lovely path

Details | Narrative | |

Mother Marys motherhood

The Church cannot forget her mission
Was made possible by the Motherhood of Mother Mary
Who conceived and bore a Son
Who is God from Eternal God
True Eternal God from True Eternal God

Mother Mary is truly the Mother of Lord Eternal God
Whose motherhood as the vocation to motherhood
Bestowed by Eternal God on every man raised to its highest level
Thus, Mother Mary becomes the mother of the Church and to be New Mama Eve
The mother of believers, the mother of the living

Details | Free verse | |

Last Poem To Maya Angelou Part I

You were so
Standing in front of
President and the
First Lady

I didn’t really
Your Pulse Of
inauguration poem
I kind of got lost
in the dinosaur
Poems about
Mastodons usually
Don’t instantly
inspire Black dreams

But those Harvard
and Yale Bullies 
came out the next
To criticize your
Iambic feet
How your syllables
are too short
Too long or don’t

But in the South
We were taught to 
protect our
And help them cross
the street

And I wish you had
just read And Still
I Rise
Would have loved to
The look in Bill
Clinton’s eyes

 Your Calling Of
Names poem
That would have
given Colin’s blood
A Rise

Dick Cheney would
have just laughed
In the aftermath

And if you had read
the poem
 Chugga chugga
Get me one Nigga
I would have grinned

As Hillary’s eyes
got bigger

And part of me was
For  And Still I
Rise Part II
But since you are
gone now
The Dinosaur poem
will do

It really was a
beautiful poem

I was never captured
by your

Always struggled
Caged Bird themes
I thought it was
more about women
Less about Black

But I did like the

And when it is all
said and done
 White poets will say

You were not as
graceful as Langston
Or Gwen or Rita

And Black poets will

You were never as
angry as Nikki or
Or as political as

And the Legacy
people will scramble
Trying to find a
place in History
For the sweet
dancing Black woman
That stole our
And sold a hundred
zillion books

Took pictures with
Malcolm and Martin

So I write this poem
to beg their pardon

And of course
they’ll name
A few inner city
schools after you

There will be a Maya
In at least thirty
Black neighborhoods
This will be good

And I’m sure there
will be 
a Maya Angelou
On a Martin Luther
King Boulevard 
Near a Malcolm X
Cemetery somewhere
Where people will
gather and stare

And on your birthday
Will congregate and

Just like they do
for Martin Luther
But they still won’t
Why the caged bird

For The Conclusion of this poem please see part II

Details | I do not know? | |


MUM ...
































Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me

Details | Free verse | |

I Imagine

I Imagine

I am ashamed that I don't have the courage to approach you
Although I crave your conversation
Feelings of nervousness arrest me
I imagine how wonderful it must be to hear you speak my name
Oh how I wish that you'd initiate the first move
Be my hero and rescues me from this solitude
I am cursed with anticipation
I intentionally stand close to you so that I may steal a whiff 
Of your heavenly scent
I sneak cautions glimpses of you
Our eyes meet in startled glances
I am embarrassed—you are inspiring
I can write about your infallible features forever
I want to share this gift my Father has given me with you
Your amber skin demands attention
It's painted marvelously
As if the Angels had mixed the colors themselves
I imagine stroking this sensational canvas 
So gently that only the ridges of my fingertips are felt
Individually I count the tiny hairs on the nape of you neck
A favorite of my unknown talents
You are perfect and near me and yet you are distant
Unreachable as Grandmother Moon
I imagine holding you feeling safe in your eyes
I'd address you as my darling, my woman, my love
I imagine our love making
Here is where my imagination is at its best…
We'd disrobe each other violently for we are carelessly excited
Avalanches of kisses leave traces of my breath upon your physique
Euphoria entraps me
I wish to be inside you
I lay you down
My hands exploring you finding the inside
I kiss you drawing your attention to me you ignore the pain
Your hand grips mine pushing me in deeper
Tilting your head back pleased with pleasure
Your Latin Language confuses me
But I understand your eyes...
So I taste you
The friction on my face is fantastic
Your body dances to a tune you allow only me to play 
Without warning, I pause
It's not meant to tease you my love
It's only me wanting to share my spirit as you reach enlightenment
I delightfully mount you
Caressing your hair waiting for the precise moment out eyes meet
You bring me to you
I exist only for you and you welcome me in
Our bodies pulsate as we make love
You are my woman, and I, your man
And in this moment of mirage I love you
I can only imagine that one day you will love me too

Details | Rhyme | |

Last Dance

The last time I saw you alive you hugged me tight and said my name as we danced. We only moved a few steps but it felt like the music played until the DJ said last call.  Little did I know you were teaching me the new step, the step of letting go.
Never had I felt the expression of dance embodying my nerves with love from head to toe.
I watched over you as you tossed and turned to find comfort with your discomfort... With your pain!
I wished I could have shouldered your pain, I wish I could have bottled lighting so you can once again feel the purity of rain.
What is a spot light that doesn't dim?
A angel whom memories run through me like a white wall receiving invitation from a projector and its film.
My thoughts are lost within its thoughts leaving me vegetated.
I ain't much for letting go! As much as I love your new position I hate it.
I need your voice, I need to feel your warmth, I need to see your eyes piercing me, I need it.... I need it!
Slowly moving left to right as I lead you backwards I felt your breath sigh.
I swallowed that breath being breathed; I got you I got you!
The world lost focus as God placed our moment in HD.
I'm dancing my last dance for the memory of you and me.

Details | Ballad | |

A cent

I picked up a cent
Not worth a dime
Enough to buy a peanut
Not worth my time
Twelve months without rest
Trying to feed
The many mouths in my nest
To satisfy their greed

I picked up a cent
It burned a hole
Through my hand and foot 
And through my sole
Porous to money
Trying to reach
The pie in the sky 
Dying to be rich

I picked up a cent
Not worth a penny
It had a dull tint
But still it was money
Mining fool’s gold
To build pyramid schemes
Like Egyptians of old
Raiding tombs

I picked up a cent
Then found another
So made it a habit
Like a coin collector
Bit hard on one
And dropped it at once
Because I remembered gran’
I had picked up a curse

Details | Lyric | |


What I imagine is beyond my years, 
An equilent  stare 
And an equilent ear.
 A sombre mind 
Is what one ought to have, but I foresee 
What plays in my head 
Is a movie 
Of such great distress, 
I see a young girl, 
A good girl, 
And the other side 
Of the mirror 
Is a different 
Sort of girl. 
More like the one before 
In the image the mirror gives off. 
If one would say the mirror lies, 
Then that one would realise
The only thing that stands between these two girls is the thin membrane called glass.
Yet with the absence of such, they are merged into one. And when they come out to play
A tiny piece of each stands out like the small glow of the paraffin lamp my grandmother used to forbid us to use 
Their memories of each other 
Are like the memories 
Of one individual person, 
Yet seeing them 
Side by side 
Would greatly outline 
Their stalk differences
But in world of fear
You can only love one
And their tears are the only thing that mimics their distress.

Details | Rhyme | |


In ultimate wisdom, she grows
As her old age comes calling
Happy to see her flesh wrinkles
The eyes still hold their tender glows
On a stroll each leg trickles.
Mumbling words in silence
Her senility replaced with wisdom
In her eyes reveries of young
She tells of tales of patience
The crown that awaits her in God's kingdom
Always the theme in her song.
Grandma is aging
Her hairs grey on every plus
She's grown the wisdom tooth
And sucks her cheeks caged-in
Aging is to all of us
To be old is the gospel truth.

Details | Rhyme | |

A Poem About Me

A poem about me?  Seriously?
That makes me laugh deliriously.
To think that I could ever be
A poem's subject, tickles me.
But if you were to Google my name,
You'd find I have some claim to fame.
This electronic wonder's sent my words
To many lands to be read and heard.
My poems have been on written pages,
Along with more important sages
As has yours been, as well you know it.
I love to be called by name--The Poet.

It's what I am, not what I do,
That you say is of interest to you?
When narrowed down to lowly me,
There just is not that much to see.
I was born quite some time ago,
In a state that's noted for its snow.
In North Dakota I was born,
Quite early on a Sunday morn.
I married and I moved away
To Washington State where I live today.
I live with with simple dignity
In this precious land of liberty.

I love with all my heart and soul
My mother and grandmother role.
I love my God, land and family
To more or less the same degree.
I was raised with love and to show respect
And instilled with a steady work ethic.
I love my friends, have no enemies.
I love to live and live to please.
What do I hate? I detest war
And long for a world with war no more.
I avidly hate a pedophile.
A despoiler of children is truly vile.

I loved being a daughter, a mother, a wife.
In other words--I love my life.

Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Memories


My grandma is getting older, dementia is taking a grip.
She always calls by the wrong name, she said its just a slip.
I worry about her every day, her nursing home is like a cage.
My dad says its part of life, the forgetting is part of her age.

She`s always missing appointments, she says she`s running late.
The whole family feels for her, but she says she`s doing great.
Last week she forgot her clothes, and came to us in the buff.
Mom was taking it pretty hard, and said its affecting her rough.

The doctors said its getting worse, the medicene its not helping.
Just yesterday she howled like a dog, and then started yelping.
Alzheimers is another name, that affects a persons brain.
One minute they are laughing hard, the next they go insane.

I feel bad for my grandma, I hate seeing her act like this.
She really means the world to me, a thing you dont dismiss.
Forgotten memories came alot for her, she`ll never be the same.
I wish that there was a cure for this, it is a crying shame.

Details | Ballade | |

My Mo in law


My Mo In law

My Mo in law, she’s ninety five
And wow, she’s looking bright
I see her in that old folk’s home
She looks a real delight
Though she can’t get around much now
She still delights in life
With a smile to all who pass on by
She seems so free from strife

She came out here at twenty nine
To our good sunny land
She worked so hard when she came here
And she made no demands
Milking cows there on the farm
Bringing up three kids
And she got on without a moan
In everything she did.

She helped her husband build two homes
She worked and worked all day
She done each thing she had to do
In a sweet and gentle way
On thinking about my Mo in law
I’d have to tell you this
Old Rosie she’s a mighty bird
You know, she really is.

19 July 2013 @ 1300hrs.

Details | Couplet | |


Don't tell me to visit,
When you refuse to let me in.

Don't preach your religion,
When you've done nothing but sin.

Don't show me your tears,
When you refuse to wipe mine.

Don't load me with guilt,
Saying "It's been a long time"

Don't tell me you love me,
Then shut me out of your life.

Don't bother wasting anymore of your time,
I'm done handing you the knife.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


it be here soon
now  the flower bloom
get in the after noon
its mother love shower
it has the power
as the story goes
give her mother

Details | Free verse | |


for Paul

Summer, and the cicadas have gone mad, 
singing out their ending lives with the deafening din 
of a train that envisions the wreck. I, in my
wintering time have more enduring songs to sing 
in this "sad, old world," as my grandmother 
would say, walking in her farmhouse flower garden, 
bearing the sorrow of a husband, and a cherished 
daughter, gone too sudden and, too soon.

In the present place of peace and comfort I have 
somehow, against all odds, managed to create, 
a former life greets guests to an island retreat: "Welcome 
to the Middle Ages" say candelabra, hundred-year-old 
chairs and medieval tapestries, better hung in some
hushed and darkened cathedral  There's no wicker here, 
just a retro flicker from another era.  My "Pro Clean" 
guy, accustomed to this paradox, has laundered carpet  
chosen feckless white, replaced, now, with sensible 
green, gleaming clean from his expert efforts.  

He's come again--"The usual?" he asks, eyes 
holding mine a heartbeat too long. He's two years
divorced from a young wife who walked, a mother who 
deplored dates with an older woman.  How Cool!,
thought I, and he's met with my inquire, "Seeing her 
yet?" No, the reply, as he turns on his heel, "But
we got along..."  End of story? No, not quite.  

Slow fade to a question made: "Are you looking 
for a date? I'm charmed by confidence, his bold audacity, 
the final tenacity when he heads for his truck, 
"If you change your mind, give me a call."  But, "MAY 
I?"  Happy, Sappy!, My end of the seesaw's weighty; 
he's forty, I'm eighty.  Still in the game?  More or 
less, I guess, but where does it end?  I'll tell you, 
my friend: "Red Rover, Red Rover," it's when 
no one comes over.

Details | Pantoum | |

The Revealing Pantoum

When I was very very young
A new mother experiencing life
Pain visited me with my song still unsung
Now children my song will I play on my fife

A new mother experiencing life
Pain in my side to the doctor went
Now children my song will I play on my fife
Right ovary cyst orange size hosiptal sent

Pain in my side to the doctor went
He said that this could cause loss of life
Right ovary cyst orange size hospital sent
Well I went under the operating knife

He said that this could cause loss of life
For it could rupture at the least bump
Well I went under the operating knife
For them to remove this abnormal lump

For it could rupture at the least bump
Asleep totally out on operating table
For them to remove this abnormal lump
Went to the light to visit angel Gabriel

Asleep totally out on operating table
Then this light called me away
Went too the Light to visit angel Gabriel
Somewhere over Yonder_I went but didn't stay

Then this Light called me away
Peace, peace sweet peace in that place
Somewhere over Yonder_I went but didn't stay
My Grandmother sent me back through space

Peace, peace sweet peace in that place
Pain visited me with my song still unsung
My Grandmother sent me back through space
When I was very very young

Details | Light Poetry | |


When I was little my mother and father took me to my grandparents place
The reason was they had school and work so they dropped me off and took haste
My grandmother who was always writing had brought out a case
I always wondered what it was that made her heart beat in an odd pace

Little I did not know what she was smiling so much about
So I watched her run around making snacks all out
I was little and about to touch the case, but I heard a shout
When I heard her she had a look that made me pout

My grandmother smiled and said to me that machine was special to her
But what was that machine because it was odd looking, for sure
As a little child nothing looks more interesting than a new figure
Finally she sat down with me by her side and a cup of coffee to stir

With a big smile she told me a story and first it was on paper
As she spoke I heard her voice with ticks and taper
I could not concentrate because of sounds and I was looking at her 
She spoke with kind words and words that I will know in the future

I giggled when she said a word, because it made several noise I heard
My grandmother smiled at me and really knew that I like the sounds that occurred
Little things are not so little she smiled and looked at her coffee and stirred
She pointed at the machine with paper rapped in it with a pattern that lured

As she spoke to me I watched it snap at the paper with precision
I was kinda amuse on her finger making a quick decision
The machine was so fast and her fingers was too, I could not use my vision
She was so happy to see that I was starting to understand the occasion

After a while I got bored and she put me down on the floor
She kept smiling and making music beyond the door
When it stopped I felt empty some how to the core
She stopped it was just because she could not find words no more

I ask grandmother what is that machine you are using as I was griping
Grandmother why wont you play with me as I was smiling
She said that she was doing some stuff, I guess she was not done working
But the thing was she was so happy as she said the machine is a Typewriter for typing


April 18, 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Squinting to Memories

I squint  just right
And capture a memory almost forgotten
Jars of fruit and honey fresh from hives
Filling shelves in old smokehouse
Home-made butter and molasses
In her kitchen
Waiting to smother
Biscuits warming
On black cast iron wood-stove
Boxes of buttons
An old cameo
Split wood in corner
Old sleepy dog on porch
The house on the hill
Where Mom's Granny rocked


Details | ABC | |

My childhood

My childhood was fun, 
tough and exciting.
My childhood was one 
where there wasn't much fighting.
This was my childhood.

My childhood was filled
with family and friends.
My childhood was filled 
with love that tied up loose ends.
This was my childhood.

My childhood came
with a grandmother that cared.
When she left me
I remembered all the times we shared.
This was my childhood.

My childhood was filled 
with classwork and homework.
My childhood was filled 
with parents who hated work.
This was my childhood.

My childhood was filled
with fun in the hood, 
and food that tasted like Campbell's, 
'Umm Umm Good! '
This was my childhood.

My childhood was filled
with tricycles and bicycles.
My childhood was filled 
with popsicles and Dill pickles.
This was my childhood.

My childhood was filled
with lots of happy holidays.
Holidays that aren't
just the same nowadays.
This was my childhood.

Now my childhood 
has become nothing but memories, 
But all the good times 
will live on within me.
This was my childhood.

Details | ABC | |

Lost Valentine

“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

Details | Quatrain | |

My, How Buttons Have Changed

In the fifties, my sister and I would play store;
selling ice cream and candy just like our grandpaw.
Granny let us delve into her spare button box
where we found the coins for our special cash drawer.

We sorted them all out by size and by color
marking some as quarters, nickels, pennies or dimes.
Imagination was the best of our playmates;
we even had half-dollars, the rarest of finds.

Last year we two met to go shopping just for fun;
can you guess what awaited me and my sister?
Brand-new buttons made of honest-to-God live coins.
We found all the reg’lar ones, but no half-dollar.

We giggled as we shopped, pretending like old times. 
Strangest thing we discovered along with this find -
the penny buttons? no cheaper than the quarters. 
The cost of the buttons did not match with their kind!

Details | Free verse | |

In Lost Time

I write to you my self, 
Sending you myself 
With words that I long for you
Need you and care about you 
Hope you, miss you, and want 
To share my heart, my life 
With you, all these written
On a piece of paper 
Capsule in time, in a bottle 
On the way to you
Somewhere some time
You shall get it. 
Floating across 
The seven seas
In lost time…

Details | I do not know? | |




 [ Poet' View:  "WALK FOR A CURE"







Details | Free verse | |


The words you force 
The words you yell
The words you fictitiously pronounce
Now becomes you, becomes your energy.
Your energy flow is not lucid anymore. Was it ever?
Your demand for a delusional lie to become reality shames you. 
These words you force on me have backfired. 
I see the colours you wear,
I must now forgive you
The damage has been done. To yourself.

Copyright © Christina Clark

Details | Free verse | |


My Grandmother died, and I have not penned my loss
 nor I have stooped to pick her rose
and smell the scent of her.

I can not allow the sights to emerge, 
when I must close my eyes,
 I can not afford to let her go

nor allow myself to go with.

There is a world of grief and screaming
covered in my intellectualizing

but I can neither nod hello or whisper goodbye,
I must stay this path she set.

Details | I do not know? | |

For Anene Booysen 1996 - 2013

Hamba Kahle Anene Booysen! (1996 – 2013)

Dead at 17, brutally raped and left to die,
in the dirt,


at a construction site in Bredasdorp.


‘horrific’, ‘repulsed’,
‘brutally raped’, ‘shocked’,


do these words mean anything,
to anyone,



Not to Anene Booysen,


murdered at 17, brutally raped and left to die,

in the dirt,


at a construction site in Bredasdorp.


Anene was raped,
savagely mutilated,


Her 17 year old body tossed aside,


by the hands of men.


Men, always men,


cowardly, beastly, perverted, twisted men.


‘Beastly’, ‘perverted’, ‘twisted’,


do these words mean anything,
to anyone,



Not to Anene Booysen,


who now lies cold and dead.


How many Anene Booysens will it take,


for us,






men, especially men,


to excise the ghastly menace,


of the heinous capacity that resides,


within men,


always men,


to brutalise, rape, mutilate, and murder.


‘Brutalise’, ‘murder’, ‘rape’,


do these words mean anything,
to anyone,



Not to Anene Booysen,


murdered at 17, brutally raped and left,


to die,


in the dirt,


at a construction site,


in Bredasdorp.



Anene Booysen
(1996 – 2013)


* – Hamba Kahle – “Farewell, Travel Well” in Zulu


** – Bredasdorp is a small town near Cape Town, South Africa

Details | Rhyme | |


Whenever middle-age recalls youth
with its long, exciting and carefree days:
we remember that we lived them in our own ways;
our parents argued that it wasn't astute...
have they forgotten how they shamelessly lied
to get some romantic kiss before it actually died?

Before the invention of television most folks were moody...
there were only radios and vinyl records to listen to,
so the dreamy heart would sing and not be blue;
amazingly today, everything is digital due to high technology.

Even grandmother admitted of kissing her sweetheart over
a few Strega Liqueur drinks before falling face-down on the lawn;
she didn't get caught and that secret has remained with her
until now and blushing she tries to smile, remembering  that frown.

Whenever middle-age recalls youth as being innocent and free of all woes... 
it may surprise you how it went hand in hand with progress;
in the sixties, Rock & Roll was considered evil and scandalous, 
but our frantic moms adored Elvis for his attire and gentleman's manners.

* Strega is an Italian Herbal Liqueur
Translation: The Witch's Liqueur

Details | Free verse | |


I met Maxine in the 50's when I was a 5th grader 
She was of mixed race and shunned, even by the teachers
I had only recently moved to the suburbs of New Orleans 
And my playmates in Memphis had been little black girls
who lived on my grandmother's farm

So to me, Maxine was not different and I was happy to have a friend
We sat together at lunch and on the playground where we talked
There she told me that her grandmother was mean and punished her
because her hair was blondish and frizzy .... Of no offense to me

With the passing of time, I began to notice that I was also shunned
For many weeks this did not dissuade me from our friendship
Maxine must have also noticed for she'd bring me a daily lunch sandwich 
And beg me to sit with her....I felt myself ... us...drifting away

Over time the pressure mounted and I had to let her go
Some 59 years later I still hate myself for not being stronger
Because I remember 30 years ago reading in the paper that
Maxine who worked as a bar maid had been murdered

What if I had stayed?  Would that have made a difference?
I guess I will never know....nor feel better about Maxine or myself

Thank you for reading my haunting.............

Details | Rhyme | |

Son to Mother

Son to Mother
(A Tribute to Langston Hughes' Mother to Son)

Mama thank you for your wisdom
that you provided since I was in womb.
I am proud to say I’ve become a man 
and on my own two feet tall I stand.

It wasn’t easy, this path I’ve led
being a counter-cultural black man – what so many dread.
But watching you made me strong over the years
and I saw how your walk brought you to tears.

With decent dignity you inspired me
to never accept less than what I should be.
While walking and doing the very best you could,
believing that crystal stairs came after the wood.

And now that I have finally arrived,
it’s because of your courage that I survived.
So for that, mama, I say a job well done;
from your example, I can teach my own son. 

Details | Narrative | |

He Left These Here for You

Granddad saved change under the paper in his dresser drawer.
We never dared to look and see how much he had to share.
He saved it there with a purpose; to give when I was there.
For a nickel I would comb his hair; a quarter bought a shave.
He loved to give me money; I loved the way he cared.
A playful sort, he loved to laugh; he always teased and joked.
There was endless time to play with me; that’s how my granddad was.

My granddad grew a garden, the prettiest one in town.
I would help him plant the rows of corn.
Three seeds dropped in each hole that he made.
Row after row, together we worked our way down.
And when the work was completely done, it was time for fun!
A shave, hair comb, and a pedicure would make him fall asleep.
Grandma brought bright red polish to decorate his feet!

When he'd wake up, I’d sit on the floor, knowing what was next.
He would bring out coins from his dresser drawer
And laugh about his toes…  (A tradition as my grandmother knows.)
He was always amused while I counted all of my loot.  
He would tease and laugh and taunt.  To me, he was number one!
At age eighteen, while in the Army, the horrible message came.
Granddad had died from an allergy; life would never be the same.

I tried not to cry, like I promised him; I could not bear the pain.
He loved me so and I loved him.  I felt so alone.
How could I go through life and never hear his voice.
I must go on; we had talked of this; even now, he still is missed.
I didn't go home for many years; when I did…he wasn’t there.
Emptiness came over me, and an ocean full of tears.
Then, Grandma took me to his drawer… “He left these here for you.”

© July 9, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen 

Details | Dizain | |


Emma was my granny, German born gal, 
from Alsace-Lorraine, her will was homespun.
Her mom had six young children to corral -
emigrating in eighteen eighty-one. 

Enduring the trip 'cross the waves alone
Pop had come early to find them a place.
With folks like hers, Emma kept up the pace -
hard-working, trust-worthy, independent.
Dark-haired beauty with a smile on her face,
my Emma could handle any event.

Details | Free verse | |


You ask for my forgiveness,
Saying it was done in grief,
What was it then,
When you boycotted my shower,
My wedding,
My house warming party,
My baby shower,
The birth of my son
(Your first great grandchild)
Snubbed the both of us,
When WE drove an hour one way, to see you
Many weekends in a row.
Grandpa was alive then.
I forgave you for all of that.
I still went to every function.
But Grandpa had just days to live,
I just wanted to tell him I loved him,
To kiss his cheek one last time.
"A soft kiss" he would say.
It was our special thing.
And after driving an hour,
Preparing myself for the scene,
You wouldn't even let us in the house.
You can't blame that all on grief.

Details | Verse | |

May we worship mother Mary

Only Eternal God
We can admire Mother Mary
Pray to her

Best intercessor to Eternal God the Son
Eternal God the Son is Father Christ
Eternal God the Father is in Father Christ
He’s sending Eternal Holy Spirit

Worship mean humble
Unconditional acknowledgement 
Absolute superiority of Eternal God
Over all creatures

Mother Mary is a creature like us
In faith she is our mother
We should call her “Mother Mary”
We should honor our parents


Details | Free verse | |

One for Thanksgiving

Over the hills and through the city streets
but nobody was home

Thanksgiving day was the loneliness
time of the year

went to grandmother house
but everyone ate
no one was home

No lovey family members
called and wished me a Happy Thanksgiving
no one called

I eat my Thanksgiving dinner

I watched the football game

I prayed to God why hast thou
forsaken me

Details | Rhyme | |


Before grandma went to sleep
and snored softly as a baby sheep,
I had a grand wish to become a prince
and marry in a castle a beautiful princess,
but to make it come true
I need some magic beans to make my idea dash, 
and accomplish that foolish thing; 
then a sudden thought too brash 
made me do something 
a good child wouldn't do:
I took those red and green magic beans that
she always kept in her neat dress chest!
When I tried to open it noiselessly, 
I realized that I needed a key,
so as a slick thief, I looked for it....
and searching her leather purse, I found it:
there they were giving off a powerful shine
tempting me with their powerful allure;       
and with avid hands short of divine,
I snatched them from that stylish couture!
As I looked back, grandma shouted,
" Hold it, hold it...little scoundrel! I heard
your light footsteps approaching my bed 
and saw your quick fingers fumbling my purse! "
" You thought I was sleeping...didn't you? "
And ready to strike me with a pillow she continued,
" Magic beans are not made for children who 
want more than they wish for..they could be a curse! "

Entered in Poet Destroyer's contest,
" Magic beans "
written by Andrew Crisci
on January 17, 2015


Details | Free verse | |

A battered old saucepan

It may seem strange to write about a battered old saucepan
but this was no ordinary one 
it sprung a leak the other day
sadly without thinking
I threw it away
and now it's gone.

It had been in my family
before I was born
and it was used every day
it broke my heart after
to throw it away.

For all the delicious soups goulash and past
it had contained
the mouth watering delectable smells
from the kitchen
the shouts from my parents

''Come on now set the table dinners made''.

All the red hot broths and porridge we'd scoff
before school on a winters day
all the laughs tears and conversations around
the dinner table before it was was washed
and put away.

It was more than a simple saucepan
because it held a lot of family memories
now my parents sadly passed away
it was one of the last things to remind me
of how things used to be
and mow I have to buy a new one
and accept it's demise
like my family
it's gone forever.

Peter Dome.copyright.2012.

Details | Couplet | |


The sweetest smelling flower that I have ever seen;
Lavender it’s called, it grows down by the stream;

It has beautiful purple blooms that sway upon the breeze;
Tempting me to take it, my senses it does tease;

I use it for a lot of things, like dried and put in tea;
It has the most relaxing smell, I like to mix it with potpourri;

Sometimes I like to pick it and just hold it in my hand;
Some people think that it is ugly but they just don’t understand;

Not only does it smell sweet but it’s soft and delicate;
It has so many medicinal qualities and it burns so fresh when lit;

My grandmother told me that if you braid it to hang above your bed,
The soothing scent will catch nightmares and give you good dreams instead;

Everything about Lavender is so appealing to me;
And with all the special traits it has, I’m sure you will agree!

~Honorable Mention in the "The Flower" Contest by A Rambling Poet~

Details | Free verse | |

Heart Language

Letters to my grandmother
in eight-year-old script
traversed the miles
which spelled
the distance between us.
Her answers were full of news,
everyday things, 
and encouragement.

"I love your letters," she wrote.
"It's just like talking to you."
I continued to write to her
for all of her life.

She passed on 
before I chose the written word
as my means of expression 
to the world.

I think she reads over my shoulder
as my pen scratches the language 
which spells my heart. My letters
still give her all the news.

Details | Rhyme | |

The Bottom Drawer

An eight-drawer dresser sits in an attic corner
Under the east wall dormer
It has a drawer that's quite a bother
It's the bottom drawer, a pesky drawer
That the family tries to ignore
It won’t open, it sticks and is hard to reach
It’s the drawer that’s nearest the floor

The drawers are packed with odds and ends
And from time to time and now and again
Family members get an urge
To climb the aging attic stairs that wobble and slightly bow
To rifle through these odds and ends discarded long ago
Underneath a faded hat they find a painting on a rock
Here’s a broken knife, a run down watch and a key stuck in a lock
A piece of chocolate that still looks fresh, old pennies and a sock
A receipt for rent and a bent and rusted bell
Hands are dirty, clothes are dusty and they hate that musty smell
The desire to pry wanes, their interest is considerably cooled
And the bottom drawer won’t open no matter how hard it’s pulled

There are times I want to get away from my worries and my cares
And from time to time and now and again I climb the attic stairs
With my coffee cup, some toast on a plate I quietly retire
To renew my center and the balance I require
Sighing in pleasure for the time I’ll be here even if it’s just for an hour
About that pesky bottom drawer that the family tries to ignore?
It’s really not hard to open if you know it’s braced
With sturdy pegs behind the dresser that keeps the drawer in place
A simple solution to stop careless hands and prying eyes
From disturbing cherished mementos I’ve saved and deeply prize

I open the drawer and lovingly smooth my Mother’s rosary beads
Here’s the last picture of my Mom and Dad taken at the table as they read
Lying in the corner is a birthday card given to me by my husband
That says I’m the best, most wonderful wife
And the greatest love of his life
A fragile, very old scarf wrapped carefully in tissue
Handed down by my grandmother to my mother to me
That traveled on a ship from Portugal at the turn of the century
Here's a photo of my kids taken when they were grown
Oh my, how fast the years have flown
Coffee and toast long gone, I’m ready to set a new pace
Feeling energized, I’m prepared to get back in the race
I put my treasured mementos back in place
Including the pegs that hold the secret brace
On the bottom drawer, the pesky drawer 
That the family tries to ignore
It won’t open, it sticks and is hard to reach
It’s the drawer that’s nearest the floor

Details | Rhyme | |

Happy Holidays Dear Faye 2K12

May your colors which unique shine thro' upon
Family as the brilliant Christmas lights do,
And yet after the white blanket has gone;
May this joyous Season's peace find you true.
May hearts warmth find you this grand Holiday.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year's dear Faye!

Details | I do not know? | |

It Was Just

It was just the other day when you were born 
When your father cut the umbilical cord
when I heard your first cry
When I held you in my arms for the first time to feed you
When I heard your first burp
When I laid you on my chest to sing you to sleep
When I brushed your long brown curly hair
When I changed your first diaper
Time has past and memories have been formed to have me realize that time has flown by
You are about graduate high school
You have learned to keep positive friends
You have chosen to surrender your life to Christ 
You have joined the choir without me even asking if you wanted to
You have decided not be the average teenager but take the challenge of studying Chinese
You have decided to keep your virginity even though it's not the popular thing to do
watching all of these transitions before my eyes leaves me with gratification that GOD saw fit for me to experience all of these wonderful stages of your life and to that I say THANK YOU GOD may you see favor upon me for me to see this wonderful gift obtain a carrier that she desires, see her walk down the isle with a God fearing man and allow me to become a grandmother with your blessings IF IT IS YOUR WILL

Details | I do not know? | |


MUM ...
































Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me

Details | Acrostic | |

Ivy Smith

I is for idyll in the way that at 91 years of age my grandmother took such care, attention and pride in her appearance and her home.

V is for vanity as my grandmother was always immaculately groomed,her hair always looking pristine, full face of make up, how fantastic at that age.
Sometimes I think I should take a leaf out of my grandmother's book.
I can see my grandmother nodding in agreement.

Y is simply yearning to have my grandmother still here.

S is savour, I savour those laughs we used to have together, especially talking about my grandmother's war days and her lodger's she took in during the war.
S is also for secondary care. When you get to those senior years in my knowledge most only receive secondary care, except for my grandmother who had exceptional care, love and attention at the hands of her two lovely carer's (or minder's as my grandmother used to call them) Ellie and Angie thankyou for caring.

M has to be for memory, as my grandmother had the most amazing memory. A better, sharper memory than me and my mother joined. My grandmother had the sharpest, quickest brain. M is also for my grandmother's amazing courage and spirit throughout her life.

I is for intelligence, as you could always hold and keep an intelligent conversation going with my grandmother.

T is for tender, as my grandmother was gentile, and affectionate as well as being vulnerable and sensitive. My grandmother was also non-judgemental, she never judged me on being a lone parent.

H is for hereditary for my smith nose, for my grandmother's sense of humour, and of course a hug. Grandma I send you a hug from myself and Daniel.
On a lighter note, on telling Daniel my son of his great-grandmother's death, I said great grandma has died and gone to heaven in the sky.
Daniel replied "only animals go there"
I said people go there too
then Daniel replied 2but the beds are to small"


Details | Rhyme | |

Our House- By Caroline Cecil

Comfy and small- three bedrooms in all
Where ever, shall I begin?
A townhouse you know, one of five in a row
With neighbors close by to drop in.

With two out of three of the bedrooms - peewee
My parent’s room is a suite
And the basement’s so chilly- it seems rather silly
Its rundown fireplace has no heat

My room is unique- nothing matches at all
With hot purple paint on the walls short and tall
On the short wall her bed, on the tall wall my loft
Both beds dressed with quilts, made with love, and so soft

My big sisters room is painted bright blue
And her brand new TV has remote control too
She has windows so big to let in the light
Of sunshine by day, and from moonlight by night.

Our kitchen is filled with all that you need
For cooking and baking- Or planting a seed
To grow the sweet herbs that season our day
We prepare a quick dish from our friend Rachael Ray

The living room chairs- they do not match
¬Yet this pair is important to me.
One, from my grandmother - and as for the other
From Pop -Pop who meant much to me.

Details | Blank verse | |

Five Buttons

They were five, in a neat row
I looked at them, how innocent
Straight and all
She smiled and it was returned
She stretched her hand out
It was wrinkled, the palm unfolded
I knew what she wanted

My fingers did too, they started dancing
Swaying towards my upper body
Caressing them lightly
Then suddenly, one came off
I looked at the other four, and smiled
I gave it to her, she wanted more

The fingers began their dancing, again
Swaying towards my upper body
And so the second one came off
She wasn’t satisfied, not yet
So the third one had to come too

She pointed at the fourth one
It came off too
Her eyes longed for the fifth
I knew I was walking home buttonless, again
So once again the fingers danced, swayed
The fifth was off

I knelt down and presented it to her
Like a box of jewel
It was more than a box of jewel, to her
No, more like priceless, she insisted
She has always amazed me, from the very start

I had to go, or suspicions will arise
She knew that, I knew that
We had our monthly “see you later” ritual
Then I really had to go
The other students were coming, friends, and foe

I walked up to the friends, conscious of the foe
Then suddenly laughter, friends and foe both
What? I couldn’t understand
“Your buttons”, friends
“Buttons disappeared again?” foe
I just smiled and said “have a happy weekend too.”
And walked on, knowing, contented, 
That they couldn’t understand

I couldn’t refuse her, I didn’t want to
I couldn’t say no to her, my granny
My very dead granny, so everyone thinks
But I can see her, talk with her
And she wanted five buttons, I offered to buy a whole packet
But no, not just any buttons, but

The five buttons from the shirt she made with me, for me
Which was now like my uniform, I wore it everyday
She wanted those only, I don’t know why, but I deliver
And go home at the end of every week and sit in her room
Putting on five new buttons which will come off, surely, certainly
With the parents always asking “how come you lose all five at once?”
I want to tell them, “I can talk with granny.”
But that’s my secret, they don’t have to know.

Details | Light Poetry | |


we  getting older
but bolder
stiil as the feeling
we both was reeling
you can bet 
it was

Details | Haiku | |

saturday morning feast haiku

grits, eggs, and bacon
made home fresh by grandma's hands
making my start fresh

Details | Rhyme | |

Christmas Eve at Grandma's

If I could do magic
I'd bring my grandma back
Always very encouraging
Wisdom, she'd never lack

On Christmas Eve, we'd gather together
Just like the rest of some you do
So many laughs, happiness there
You knew grandma's love was true

Midnight finally came around
Seemed like eternity for some
Gifts were then allowed opened
We'd then find out who it's from

We'd then hear a knock
There standing was Santa Clause
The little kids were shocked
Each child then got a gift.

We would wad up the wrapping paper
throw it at our cousins, and more
By the time it was over, Grandma's home
Was messier then it was before

Details | Blank verse | |

sleeping under the powerlines


 spin the lamp all the way down,
 lay low the polio eradic skyline.

 down to where beds exit through
 lime hollow eyelids.

 saint isotope on a pillowcase full 
of bright neurons.

 the mineral vertebrates standing 
upright in the name of science shuffle
 like ghost in florescent gowns.

  a quick flutter of the eyelash and the
spirit returns to liquid.

 microwave membranes lying on soft satin, 
buzzing radon hewn pixels.

 they float like tangerine slices in orange jellow.

  strange apron grandmother for a god.

  chernobol piety.... long robed orthodox priest 
wandering through octane green forest nights.  






Details | Free verse | |



It is a a new day, what we live today
Free of servitude
Murana! not more a slave, bonds - girl
Murana ! not more a trokosi
Shout, shout the word loud for us to hear
Murana, break the silence your voice wishes to betray
and lightened the path the Olympian torches fears
This is the way you shall be known, Murana !
To be the fearless
To be the freed
Of your grandmother Miedoafe's replica
When you dare not, the world behinds the shade, dreads..... 
Is laid deep in the smoldering of the quenched fires 
Where its smokes revives the echoes of yesterday
Of you, the heart felts when been abused
From the sufferings of fathers sins
Who never educate us
Who never make a wealth
Who never rules well
Who never..................
So today, stand firm against it
Break the chain that linked us
For freedom from imprisoned egos
Ignorance, Corruption, and bad governance 
Been a freed Trokosi.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Too Much There

My mother was a life-long keeper of photo albums. 
She had several of them saved from her youth 
filled with black and white faded to yellowy-grey 
family photos of long-dead relatives 
posed around a new grave or 
an infant in a tiny coffin,   
in horse-drawn buggies on the way to church, 
my grandmother in the chicken yard.
The albums had faded brown covers, 
crumbling black paper pages, 
photos held in place with paste-on corners. 
As a child I spent many hours looking at them, 
asking who the faces were. Some she could recall; 
many were lost to her.

There was one photo, taken in 1957, 
according to the date printed on the edge of the photo, 
which seemed odd to me, a puzzle.
In it I was a child of twelve, 
dressed in what must have been 
a borrowed boy’s suit and tie. 
I stood next to my mother 
on the front porch of our little house in Dallas. 
The image was taken looking slightly upwards towards us
(the photographer was on the bottom step), 
perspective exaggerating our facial features. 

It occurred to me when I was older 
that there was a paradox in the photo: 
I was smiling and squinting into the sun;
my mother’s shoulders were stooped, 
her face twisted in something internal
that I couldn’t see.

Perhaps it was the growing awareness 
of my own mortality 
that led me not long ago to look again,
to decode the message: 
the photo was taken the day of my father’s funeral. 
My mother was compressed by the agony of my father’s death, 
a weight and loss almost impossible for her to bear. 
But what was happening with the child me? 
I suppose it could be called denial, 
but I had moved into the now-familiar space of not-knowing. 
Perhaps this blankness contributed 
to my taking so many years to understand. 
Whatever the cause, I wasn’t there; 
my mother was too much there.

Details | Ballad | |

peach gospel in the cellar

  in an old cellar mason jars
 full of canned sunsets line
  the shelves.

   ripened years ago. 

 they have names like
 sylvia's famous peach

 each has a piece of paper
 with a bible verse written on it.   

   one day a slim figured girl will
 ask her grandmother to try some.

she will reach for the jar of john 15:1

" i am the true vine and my
 father is the vinedresser."

 snap and the lid will come off.

 with a warm smile the sweetness
 of a parable will be turned
 into a crisp cobbler. 

Details | Couplet | |






Written By My Grandmother Mamie Rachel Sterling/Sinner/Earl 1950

Details | Blank verse | |

The Beholder

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
however big and bold,
that is what I may well of been told,
in this life of old.

Trying to awaken my consciousness,
for I must be comatosed,
surely I am not in the living world,
my head must be in the clouds.

I wake up in a sweat,
not knowing what has just happened,
it all seems so surreal,
do I stand in judgement or appeal.

Piecing together my thought processes,
was it a dream or a reality,
wishing, thinking of my grandmother watching over me,
sending me a sense of calm and peace.

I will stay with that thought,
that beautiful vision,
of my grandmothers mission,
to deliver peace and harmony to a muddled brain.

Details | Free verse | |

My Grandmother

My grandmother. 
I love her so. 
She is my favourite, 
person in my family.

She loves to bake, paint, and sew.
She loves me, I feel, the most. 
We both are artist,
of nature and of love.

We love to bake,
though we can hardly ever see eachother.

She lives in Michigan, and I in Germany. 
But whenever I can, I love to see her. 
She is that sort, the sweet and round kind. 

She is the grandmother version of me.
She loves to read, loves to write. 
We are almost exactly alike.

So here's to my grandmother,
the best in the world.
Here's to my grandmother,
MY Grandma. 
Grandma Challenger.


Details | Verse | |

Injustices - Quinzaine

Injustices just break my heart. Do they affect you? Make you sad? Dorian Petersen Potter Aka ladydp2000 Copyright@2014 10.10.14

Details | Prose Poetry | |

kindle for the fire

This chair has chipped paint.     
Its shadow is long by its side.    
Due to the light pouring through the window    
Slanted only like the sun in the middle of August    
Fragments of dust float around the chair    
Like suspended stars, or the pixel points on an LCD screen    
Through the shaft of light streaming in    
Through the heat oozing, and seeping into the pores    
This chair envelopes like a warm embrace    
Soft ruby pink cushions impressed:     
Feathers where the cushion is ripped stick to your bottom     
To be annoyingly brushed off    
(Like brushing the curiosity of a stranger aside,   
Yet this chair is no stranger!)    
The chair’s white coating wilts within the dankest humid air, and you feel it:    
Like the skin you wanted to shed when you first entangled from sheets this morning
 This chair rocked my great grandmother and her children, and my mother    
Creaking like an anchored boat on a calm day at sea.     
Exposed grey brown wood now soft to the touch unless it is where it splinters   These jagged pieces are small and piercing at certain points    Like the penetrating eyes of a gaze that commanded long ago-   
To take her son.          

For this, the entire chair will be kindle for fire in autumn.    For this is where she sat and remembered.    
She remembers watching fire settle on the waters-     
Red and orange arms spreading- 
War in the distance is better.           

Her heart was slammed shut and darkly cloaked.    
The blaze after two black holes collide disappearing    
And she was not comforted by the arms of the chair, when war came too near    
This I remember, on this too hot day in the middle of August. 

Details | Free verse | |

Legendary women in my life

The smell of my mother
It’s the Coco Chanel fragrance she wears every day
It’s the scent of her make up
It’s the aroma of coffee and spearmint candy
My grandmother smells of sugar and roses
Of thank giving dinner and sweet potato pie
Of chocolate and perfume
Of spice and chamomile tea

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reawakening of Identity

I have seen the pretentious woman residing within my minds hologram….
She believes herself to be a wise messiah…
She teaches her apocryphal beliefs to other seekers…
She has deep roots of stubborn illusions planted within her intentions…
She teaches to be revered actually living with great fear…
She wants to be loved, her demise being forcing her will of fear…
She consumes shots of green gel calling it her breath of life…
The divine grandmother challenged the false inner profits message…
Enraging her with threats of revealing to me real truth…
She chanted, pounded her mislead fists together, manifesting a sword of crystal and light…
Piercing through her own throat refusing to evolve her beliefs…
Creating again all of her low vibration grief…
Why is she here covering her veil of confusion over my eyes?
Preventing me from believing the light of oneness god exists…
Why does she desire to create suffering within the temple?
What is her mission’s purpose?

Working for the Cabal; a mental program construct of peace destruction…
Consumed with greed and power wishing to feel divine…
Poisoning everyone from birth with this tainted sour wine…
I banish you…  
You scared old stubborn crow…
I swim within my god’s love light of truth…
So take your pathetic self and go…
Go to the white light, transforming your tyranny within my being into delight… 

Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Memories

Where do memories that are forgotten go?
It’s as if the events never even took place.
She searches for clues about a life long passed,
with confusion painted on her face.

She is visited each day by a parade of strangers;
never remembering any one of us.
If you don’t recognize the people you lived with,
how can you know who to love and trust?

Once she was a loving mother,
doting grandmother and faithful wife;
now each day is a struggle for her
and everyone else once part of her life.

The memories were supposed to be her comfort;
those she cherished enough to save.
It is sad to realize they are now long gone
and won’t accompany her to the grave.

Details | Narrative | |

promising rhetoric

if i am not elected:
you will be able to sleep that night
if i am not elected:
the very next day, you will hunger
if i am not elected:
young children will cry - for their mothers
if i am not elected:
some grandmother will fall - and break her hip
if i am not elected:
crimes will be committed, 
and dogs and the derelict will wander the streets
if i am not elected:
people worldwide will cry, and laugh
if i am not elected:
some will, and some will not care, about you
if i am not elected:
you - yes you, will look into the distance
 and wonder perhaps 
 if it would have made a difference
if i am not elected:
our momentary democratic lives will
continue to their inevitable democratic end

i ask for your vote in the upcoming election,
not for me, as i intend to think - and perhaps nap,
but for yourself, yourselves, you who might
hold dear to the promises of tomorrow
i promise you will find some fulfillment there

© Goode Guy 2012-08-27

Details | Rhyme | |

A Surprise at the Family Reunion

An Unwelcome Surprise at the Family Reunion

By Elton Camp 

“We certainly do hope that all his descendents will choose
To attend the reunion of the family of Grandfather Hughes.”
The newspaper announced the gathering’s time & location
To recall and praise a man so distinguished, with admiration

Grandfather has been a prominent and wealthy physician 
Who had all that was expected of a man in his position 
He and Grandmother resided in a most imposing estate
They were tended by maids, butlers and servants galore
For an honored ancestor they couldn’t really ask for more

But I must admit that most relatives looked down their nose
At those who didn’t have, as a noble ancestor, one of those
For snobs to say, “Of course you know that I am a Hughes”
Was a request for deference that very few would dare refuse

The family gathering began in the ballroom of the finest hotel
Men with tuxes and women in long dresses, looking so swell
All, their professions, wealth and accomplishments did mention
To inspire jealously with pretentiousness was their intention

At that moment, a family of blacks walked through the door
Their very presence the Hughes family did quite openly abhor
“It is obvious that you people made a mistake in coming here.
The service entrance for menial hotel workers is in the rear.”

“You mean this here ain’t the Hughes family’s big meeting?
I thought it was high time that my relatives I was greeting.”
Through the room gasps and expressions of outrage spread
Two fine ladies fainted away almost as if they were dead

The oldest Hughes came over and quietly grasped his arm
“Let me show you out so that the reunion you don’t alarm.
Your mistake is natural and it’s not any cause for blame.
Many unrelated people actually will share the same name.”

“No, no this is the place I meant to come I definitely know.”
The black man then extended his hand and called him “bro”
“You are mistaken man, for it is clear that you are a spade.”
“Only partly, bro.  My father was from Mr. Hughes’ maid.”

Because of that, the reunion was never held any more
The Hughes clan felt it couldn’t be as it had been before
Bigotry was proved stronger than family ties that way
At least that is what all others in town did laugh and say

Details | Rhyme | |

One Mother's Sons

She bore five sons, strong young men,
All volunteered way back then;
The youngest lied about his age
So he could join, engage
The enemies of freedom's band,
Threatening the peace our land
Holds precious. They said good-bye
To fight on land, sea, in sky.

Part of the greatest generation,
They fought the Axis federation.
Many brave men did not return,
Their grieving fam'lies left to yearn, 
Longing to find, to know one spot
That is for them a sacred plot.
Thousands of graves were never marked
Save in a mother's or wife's heart.

Somehow my grandmother's boys were spared;
Death did not take them unprepared.
Safely home came all five sons;
The job complete, the war was won.
But, it's never done for those who fight,
The horrors in their minds recite
Round and round for scores of years:
Price exacted of our volunteers.

July 6, 2014

Details | Acrostic | |

Upon the Everlasting

In the beginning, I took you for granted.
Remembering the sound of high-heeled shoes clicking.
I learned later that you were a grandmother extraordinaire.
Dependable, kind, wise, you always remembered me. 
Every birthday or holiday, like clockwork, a card or a gift of love.
Secrets were safe in your hearing, in your heart, too.
Caring, sometimes through tears, you were there for me.
Endless was your love; constant was your listening ear.
Nothing uplifted my falling life more than your never-ending love.
Today, I am the person that I am because your iridescent-self shone in my life.

You remain my confidant and friend-grandma.
Omnipresent from the heavens your love directs my heart.
Upon the everlasting, joys abound in my memories of you.

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
September 30, 2011

Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift


they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more

Details | Rhyme | |

Whispers In My Mind

Whispers In My Mind

The spirits of my ancestors cry out to me tonight
Wanting to help me through this darksome plight
Whispering wisdom from beyond
Telling me to ever strongly hold on
Filling my mind with memories dim
Promising to reveal from within
The one who tortures my very soul
And with a quick word my peace stole
Listen to us they whisper urgently
To the past keep looking diligently
Never give up what your heart sees as right
Keep moving forward to win this hard fight
Listen sweet child to your ancestors pleas
Only then can you finally and forever break free
From the chains that bind and hold you down still
From the crushing pain that seeks to devour your will
Listen to me a voice rings out clear
I have always helped to wipe your tears
Never have I left thought it seemed that way
Remember now the name from that day
But before my mind can grasp the news
My ancestors are quieted just like my muse.

Details | Rhyme | |

Grandma's New Shawl

Grandma shivers, 
and to warm her, I wrap
an old faded shawl
around her frail frame.
A shawl she had hand woven
many years ago.

I hold her, and while she sleeps,
she touches the worn threads.
Her fingers move over the old design,
of two faded red roses.
Her eyes are closed. 
Perhaps, my Grandma's dreams
are somewhere in the past,
reviewing all her life's weavings.

Suddenly Grandma's eyes open.
She reaches out as her hands
tremble over the old shawl.
Her fingers seem to be tracing
a new design over the faded roses,
as if an intrinsically beautiful pattern
is being revealed to her.

Now I understand!
Grandma is weaving a new shawl!
Eagerly she leans forward.
I watch her pick up one old loose thread,
and firmly tie it to the new.

Details | Light Poetry | |


here's some advice
let me nices
i need my buck
pay me  ok
here what i say

Details | Free verse | |


Did you ever stop and think
When you spent the day all alone
There was someone else too
That was just as lonely as you ?
So if you are feeling blue
Just sit down and write a line or two
For someone that loves you dear
Will be waiting from you to hear.

Written by my Grandmother Mamie Rachel Sterling/Sinner/Earl 1940

Details | Free verse | |

family feud over inheritances im missing from my own life

my grandfather was in a coma
my grandmother was a cripple
my family was excluded from my grandfathers estate

my father was hit by a drunk driver
my father left my brother and i an inheritance
my uncle was the executor of the estate

i havent recieved a phone call from him ever
he wanted me to have a tv, a computer and a vehicle.

my step mom has done this before

a group of people that had a problem with my father even buying me a birthday present
a group of people my father bought all the christmas presents for
that never had anything nice to say to my father about me

i could change the world,
sve the emperor of china from a hostage situation
i could be a torture victom of a drug ring scrambling away in homelessness
and get the big "so what" as they sit in my dads three houses

im not sure why the only thing they wanted me to participate in was cruelty

and shotgunning beer at a funeral party is really not classy

just for future reference when these people make the news

Details | Free verse | |


Outside with one shoe

The shoe I took from the dumpster

My hair is filled with flies

Oh do I stink

Brown flames comes up from my butt

Flies come by my way

They all die


Oh do I stink

Never in life was I applause for my smell

Can it be that bad

I guess so

Since everyone has abandoned me


My teeth so rotten 

It scares the mirron into broken pieces

Yellow as a my grandmother big toe nail

Stink bomb comes my way

I can't hold it in

I let in the air


Everyone dies

But me

Oh do I stink

Details | Light Poetry | |

I remember when

I have a faint memory  
From a time long ago I was five maybe six
I was walking a dirt path from my grand parent?s bungalow
It was early in the morning and the peat moss was everywhere

I remember my grandfather just looking at me with a smile
Then his head nudged to the left and said come along with me for a while
He?d take my hand and we went for a walk past the mist and through the brush  
It led into a thick field where blueberries were everywhere

On our way back I could see a pebble shore it was through the trees and across the way
It was on a crystal lake somewhere upstate in a town of the same name sake
And just up the road was a pasture which was part of someone?s estate
Its landscape caught my attention and would remain embedded in my mind

I remember jogging along side the road back to the view I felt drawn to.
Because I wanted to see the sun set
I went back to that pasture and watched it go down 
From the distance I could see cows grazing the land too.

I stood there just looking at everything around me
It was such a beautiful scene
A gentle breeze and the scent of flowers all around
I took the moment into my mind like a photograph in time

On the way back I notice this prairie was attached to someone?s home
There was a sign in front it was on a red brick stone wall 
It said the Johnson and Johnson estate
I stole one lasting view then ran back before it was too late 

Going the other way I could see another giant sign
It said Crystal Lake Pennsylvanian next left
I ran for the entrance and up the pebble hill
I turned back for a moment and looked across the street 

I could see the wire metal fence and the pebble shore
I took another picture into memory
Then continued running up the hill and on the dirt road 
My heart was racing cause? I thought everyone was looking for me

I could see my aunt and uncle just waving to me
Then I heard my grandmother call out my name
I could smell food in the air chicken and sweet potatoes on the Bar-B-Q
I sat down to eat and found my cousins there too.

Details | Light Poetry | |

My Grandma Tillie

I use to have a grandma named Tillie
Who use to be quite the philly
She made popcorn
And put them in bread bags
For us all to have and brag
She use to wear aprons
And sometimes taped them
She was a little lady
But always had plenty to say
She sat in a rocking chair
And watch us all with care
She passed away a long time ago
But I always think of her so
I have 1 picture of her
That I cheerish and share
I love you Grandma Tillie

Details | Blank verse | |

Fingertip to Fingertip

Fingertip to Fingertip,
Wanting the right words to slip,
Far away is where to jaunt,
Holding near is all I want.
Fingertip to fingertip,
Kiss me here; lip to lip.
Heavy times come to all,
A dead ends the next wall.
Talk becomes cheap,
The road life turns steep.
Hold up every thought,
Soak in all that she’s  taught.
Sitting so close at heart,
Reading the cancer as a chart.
Fingertip to Fingertip,
Giving one choice; to grip,
Grip onto reality,
As we minus from our family tree.
Taking away like a knife,
Taking away a loved one, a wife.
A mother with patience of a dove,
A grandmother with an unconditional love.
Fingertip to fingertip,
My hearts pumping; Flip,
A promise to never be broken,
Always close to me like a token.
Love will always be near,
Thank you Grandma for your care.

Details | Rhyme | |

The Great Depression

The Great Depression began around 1930 and it was world wide.
It was so bad that about forty thousand people committed suicide.
It began when the Stock Market crashed on October the 29th of 1929.
The Great Depression sent many people to the unemployment lines.
The Great Depression lasted over ten years.
Life was rough, that much is painfully clear.
That period brought about Gangsters and many people turned to crime.
My Grandma blamed Hoover for the Great Depression because he was President at the time.
Times were tough and many good people suffered back then.
People were happy when the Great Depression came to an end.

Details | Prose | |

There Was a Fire Truck in my Kitchen Today

There was a fire truck in my kitchen today! It was about two feet long and had the loudest siren. There were two men driving the truck and my grandson set atop. He was doing all the work as he keep yelling, “VROOOOOM!” 

There was a fire truck in my kitchen today! All I could think of was my own son and all the times we played cars and trucks on the same floor. Then I looked up and remembered all the times he stood at the sink and splashed bubbles everywhere! The kitchen is the heart of my home and so I just sat there on the linoleum and reminisced with my coffee in my hand.

There was also a Lamborghini,

a Porsche,

a semi-truck,

and a cement mixer too! 

These are the days to remember. 

I hope I can relive this moment again next week!

Gwendolen Rix

Details | Free verse | |

this one time, while back

she sits on my shoulders, wrapping, twining
long legs warm round my neck
so tight at times, I cannot

she looks long in my eyes
deep and intent
past the glass as if to discover
to pull it all up, to
study it

is truth a product of vanity, some kind of
as is said

I see nothing unless it sees me
and she is so much of my system
right now

Details | Rhyme | |


From the wrought iron gables
the oblong hummingbird feeder dangles
shiny plastic, strawberry lip-gloss red.
It sways above my grandmother’s head
as she watches their vibrating wings.

She rests at the kitchen sink,
puts down her dishtowel, and smiles.
I want to ask if she is tired of housewifely trials,
but the cat leaps to the window, hissing,
waking my grandmother from her reminiscing.

She goes back to the dirty dishes, alone;
silence is the new partner in her half-empty home.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghost of Bayou Cannot

Some folks believe it. Others do not. The legend told in the Bayou Cannot. The only witness who can swear that it's true, are the creatures who live in the bayou. The owl told the gator, the gator told the frog, about the horror filled night that changed their home in the bog. Far off on the mainland, miles from the marsh, in a large city, where living is harsh. A man's world invention sprang into life. A breath of fresh air to man's world of strife. A new deisel engine, queen of the line, would make it run for the very first time. The sunset limited it was aptly named. Gleamed in the station waiting its moment of fame. Boarded by folks going south, some headed out west, none mindful of anything, but each's own quest. New York to L.A. via the southern run. So it was, the trip had begun. Back in the bog, things were happening too. A barge made its way north with its captain and crew. The day had been hot. The night had turned cool. The fog roiled in, with its blanket of dew. The captain steered his tug, painfully slow, caution was key to safely deliver the tow. All of a sudden there was a scrape and a jolt the barge floated free, not held by a bolt. Panic seized the crew! "We've lost the tow!" "MAYDAY!" screamed the captain over the radio. Amid the chaos and moans of disdain, another great jar, "We've got it again!". Back on land not far down the track the Limited sped with a clickety-clack. Approaching the tressel no one noticed the shake. Who could blame the poor folks; the hour was late. Midway over the bayou came the tressels demise. A great shiver another great quake, tons of speeding steel, folks met their sad fate. Days went by weary and sad. Rescuers agreed none worked a wreck this bad. Twisted and bent the engine was pulled from the muck and the slime. "102" came the final count, the coroner spoke and noted the time. A weary voice shouted "Wait!" "Sir, I disagree!" Tired eyes turned, what did they see? A weary man held in his arms a child about three. Today believers say "an angel wanders." "A tiny spirit" Others agree. On foggy nights when no moon can be. A tiny light flickers so you will see. "It's a firefly!" Say the skeptics of haunt. The creatures disagree and murmur their taunt. They know the spirit of the child now lives in their swamp.

Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch

Details | Free verse | |

An old house

An old house
By Thomas Martin Durham III
My family is an old house:
Dad is the fireplace, which keeps us all warm.
Mom is the food, which keeps us all fed.
Paco, the Chihuahua is the television set, which provides us all with entertainment.
Kiki, the cat is the radio in the house, which makes a lot of noise.
My grandfather is the refrigerator, which stores all of our essential needs in life.
My uncle Larry is the propane tank of the house, which stores all the gas needed for the stove.
My Aunt Shana is the door of the house, which lets viewers in.
My uncle Joe is the propane tank filler which feeds the tank the gas needed for the stove.
Lulu, the pug is the carpet of the house, which keeps all of our feet warm
Sweetheart, the pug is the tile floor, which provides us something hard to walk on.
My cousin, Johnathan is the main bedroom, which people look at with awe.
My cousin Eric, is the insulation, which keeps any sound from escaping, 
My grandma Eastridge is the walls of the house that keeps it warm.
My Grandpa Eastridge is the shape of the house, which people see first.
I am the foundation and the framework which keeps the house from crumbling 

Details | Rhyme | |


I search through this darkness,
     for just a flicker of light;
 Something to help guide me,
   through this unknown, without fright...

For just one millionth of a second,
  of her arms around me;
A sacrifice well worth all this pain that I leave...

A comfort so familiar, as I revel in this peace;
  A feeling of pure happy,
       As she is here with me...

She may be disappointed, 
in the action's that I have taken;
   However unforseen;
Yet she show's only a smile, 
     as she reaches towards me...

Although darkness surrounds me,
     Above and Below;
   I can feel her arm's embrace me,
with a strong grandmother hello..

I can feel her beating heart,
 as it presses into mine;
         This is where I belong, 
I've known it all the time.

I feel that if my face is smiling,
   as if it were to never leave;
  As the love coming from her eyes,
leaves me content and at peace;
   As so gently, without fear;
      I Fade into sleep...

Details | Narrative | |

Today Is September 1 2007

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.

Details | Free verse | |

October Morning

As I gaze out the upstairs window
Looking at a scene from yesterday
This place from my childhood
This place of cherished memories
It is early, and a burst of sun gleams proudly
As it began it's rise over the distant horizon
A string of washing waving on the line
Looking like colorful flags flapping in the wind
And the doves strutting on the cobbled path
Cooing their song, or perhaps complaining 
About the chill of the October morn.
Perhaps it is not quite the same now,
As it was on a long ago October morn
Yet, something of those days hang on
The washing no longer blowing in a breeze
The doves have found a home beyond
My grandmother has long been gone
But there still prevails a peaceful song.

Details | I do not know? | |


There is no way you could possibly know,
How wonderful of a person you are.
You have made many hearts glow,
Yes, YOU, are a shining star!
For me you've done everything you possibly can,
And you don't know how much that means.
Whenever I would fall, you lended your hand,
And shined upon me with all of your beams.
You are my star in the sky who brightens each day,
And comforts me throughout each night.
Anytime that I needed you, you went out of your way,
To make sure everything was just right.
However, I let you down, with my mischievious act,
When I should have been helping you out.
It may seem I took you for granted because the maturity I lacked,
But I Love You, without any doubt!
I am thankful that in return you have always loved me,
Reguardless of what I have done.
That is exactly the way a Grandmother should be,
And I have to say you're the BEST one!

Details | Free verse | |


Chilled Pinot Grigio and Chianti
on each side of the long table,
twenty seats for twenty guests;
Antipasto with zesty dressing...
colorful vegetables with chunks
of sharp provolone and hard salami...
to be served with crunchy bread,
the kind that grandmother used to bake.

Oh, wait the Creamy Alfredo with chicken and spinach
is steaming on a huge serving plate...what a work of art!
Oh, the aroma of the Parmesan cheese
fills the nostrils with the urge to start;
one by one, the well-dressed guests walk
into the dining room...who said they are guests?

It's family: grandpa, grandma, uncles, aunts and cousins!
we'll surely enjoy this Sunday dinner as last week.
What about dessert? Sweet pastries and chocolate Tiramisu
with a strong cup of espresso and a shot of Sanbuca Romana;
would you like to join us and meet the friendly chef Mario? 
There's plenty of food for everyone...Buon Appetito!

Details | Free verse | |

My Mothers Doll

Weeping on the window sill.
A long pass love to give.
A doll that with stand time.
Like wear and tear on its strings inside.
The sand that flows in an hour glass.
Is a way to find a love that pass.
My mother holds it once again.
A cool person who love to give.
She gives it to my brothers daughter.
With it sitting on a spindle it can spin.
To thread it back into its former self.
It begins a new love with in.

Details | ABC | |

No Title

just want to start off by saying, we all know the dangers of drugs and alcohol, there is this one substance though, just one that you have to be 18 or older to buy. I am talking about “The Cancer Stick” better known as cigarettes. Most of the older people in my family and others also smoke cigarettes like its nothing at all, I never realized it caused cancer until older years, but when I found out it was too late, many of my family members developed lung cancer including my close grandmother. That woman would smoke a pack of cigarettes in the snap of a finger, but the thing is she has been doing it for over 20years I would assume. The day I found out she was dying of the disease I was not surprised, but yet she is my grandmother so I felt great sorrow. When she passed it shook my soul, but we know we must move on. The thing that boggles my mind is that the government regulates these substances knowing the dangers, and what do you get a large number of statistics on the deaths of those related to legal drugs, ex: alcohol, prescription drugs, cigarettes etc. But if it makes profit distribute it right? The death of my grandmother along with the death of my great aunt both due to that cancer stick, has changed my mindset drastically on the way things are set up in our system, I wish I was able to talk to my grandmother and aunt one last time, one last time to tell them to put that killer down and resist that mentality, but I couldn’t, why? Because they are addicts, it would take strong support, but see we didn’t have good family support. So unfortunately helping my grandmother mentally was a fail.

Details | Free verse | |

sleeping with grandma in summer haiku

pulling down the shade,
i can still feel the cool breeze
still sticking to sheets

Details | Free verse | |

a song for the spirit of creativity

where will i find her?
i will find her hiding
inside a triangle
humming, bent over
and sewed into
my many great grandmother's
buried, saved
for the hungriest of winters

like a swan passing
white with long leaps
shapeless spirit
who keeps
herded colors
locked inside her
bone tooth box
stars on either side

the sweetest prayers
work best with tears
i will go crying in to the night
red all over
i will go dangling my song
howl for dawn
you told me to come!
my woman drummers drumstick
is stored, come straight
a thick and sticky swaddle
for my dream children
for all the ideas in my mind

help me
hear me
i am afarid of this silent birth
geometric babies
overwhelming strength
in words
i believe in the cloud 
you float in over me
my needle
my thread
my fingers
this earth paint
every single sight and all the words combined

some say you are dead
gone with the rest of
our world hoop
i see you in the water
where you breath in the screams
of wishes
woman who you collect
drop by drop by drop
woman whose
skill is not enough for you
women whose
minds are not yet open

spirit i am aware that you presented yourself to me in my mind world last night and i am 
here to sing to this song to beg and plead for you to pity me 
prove the story my grandmother heard while inside her mother
about rainstorms
that bled glass
a steady flow
it all fell into my palm
only one woman every thousand years
here i am
it is me
shapeless spirit
you offered me the power to create
i accept

Details | Free verse | |


When I was a little girl,
my only wish, was that 
someday, I would be famous.

My grandmother always said,
"you can be anything you want to be,"
and I believed her, Maybe, I did not believe in me.

Details | Lyric | |

Empty Space

Leaving no trace
It’s like I’m on a train drifting into space
I’m traveling to a place of no return
Leaving a space empty and cold,
Every moment I turn around and glance,
For I miss your face
In this place

In a winter storm,
It’s bare and freezing
Lonely and away from everyone else
I look up, down, and many times around
But I see nothing
Because you are not here

In a fall gaze,
Leaves falling all over the place
Staring into the sky
It’s like a whole new place
But when I turn around
Thinking that you are there,
You have just disappeared

Summer is now coming
It’s hot and humid
It is the best
But I have nobody to share it with
Because you are not here,
It almost feels like it’s just a waste

Spring has arrived
All the bunnies are coming out to play,
I watch them as they go
Leaving not a pathway or a trace
I was hoping I would see you
With that smile on your face
There was nothing left
Just an opened, abandoned place

It’s a space that no one can fill
Only you can
You have taught me about life, love and peace
And my time will come
I think about the space you left and
Try to fill it up
But with what!?
You won’t come back and
I have lost time with you
It was everything to me,
The place that we shared
But before long,
That too 
Will be gone.

Details | Narrative | |

The Contest

Of course, as soon as a new poetry contest was posted I had to immediately enter.  In this 
contest, you had to email the sponsor to get your own, unique theme.  

Off went my email; back came her reply: “Write a poem about what inspired you to write 

She even included one of her poems as a sample of what she was looking for.  A beautiful 
poem indeed; relaying the story about how her Grandmother inspired her to write.  

So, I tried to emulate her with my story.

I wrote a poem about my football coach who taught me real men can write poetry without 
feeling emasculated.  A nice poem, albeit, total fiction.

I penned a verse about my first love encouraging me to write about our romance and how 
the subsequnt breakup inspired me to write about the sorrow of love lost.  A passionate and 
beautiful poem, although pure BS.

I rhymed the touching story about how my mother, on her deathbed, confessed that she 
knew I was writing poetry by reading my secret journal for years.  Her last words to me 
were to follow my passion and write poems for her in heaven.  Problem is, my mother is 
alive and well and has never shown any interest in reading my poems.

The fact of the matter is, I cannot pinpoint a moment in time; a person; or, an experience 
that inspired me to write.

Just as I need no inspiration to breathe in order to stay alive; I write poetry as a reflexive, 
survival instinct.

Just as I need no inspiration to eat in order to satisfy my hunger; I write poems to placate 
my yearning inside.

Just as I need no inspiration to dream when I close my eyes at night; words, rhymes and 
stories fill my mind whenever I find a moment of peace in my hectic day.

Whereas, I envy those who know where their inspiration came from, I am less blessed with a 
birth of inspiration and am more cursed with an innate need to write.

In my email to the sponsor, I bragged how I was up to the challenge, but, alas, she 
presented me with a theme I cannot relate to.

I will continue to breathe words of poetry through my keyboard.
I will continue to nourish my hunger through prose.
And, I will continue to dream in rhyme and meter.

But, I have no story to wow you with about what motivated me to do so in the first place.

The irony in all of this?  After admitting this truth about myself to a complete stranger in an 
otherwise meaningless contest, I am inspired to continue to feed my curse and write poetry 
forever more.

Thanks…damn you.

Details | Ballad | |


Being born in the postwar fifties,
after darkness and catastrophe
ascended on all Europe,
I didn't experience cruelty and horror... 
but hope came from the defenders of freedom
from North America and England;
and their military supremacy crushed
Hitler's vanity and his inhumane empire!
I was given birth by a courageous mother,
who saw bombs drop on buildings,
and escaped to the countryside with a few belongings...
dragging grandmother to safety!

Fear was everywhere...people had to hide,
and liberty was a forbidden cry;
even in the Vatican City, and rumors...
if not facts, confirmed that some
were afraid to speak against this evil,
but continued to tremble,
and in doing so they let many die!
Wasn't God angry at their hypocrisy;
and if they had taken a stand against the evildoers...
wouldn't it spared many?

It's my turn to protest the evil
that destroyed the life of big and small
for their faith, religion and race;
those voices are still ignored,
but  they are finally heard;  
their thirst for peace and justice
will be quickly quenched!
It's my turn to heal their wounds
with sweet and consoling words of kindness,
and alleviate their fears that what happened yesterday...
must not be repeated in our history;
and wil I be able to do this without facing controversy?
It's my turn to use the written word,
to outshine everyone whose interest is greed! 

Nobody more than I
was saddened by this tragedy,
so powerful and overwhelming,
to promptly modify the traits of my personality;
to be more considerate and caring,
and partake in Humankind's destiny!
An Aquarius has many
distinguishing qualities
and talents, and I intend to use them wisely...
listening to their struggles 
with much sympathy!
It's my turn to use the written word,
to declare war on the state of unfair things,
proceed with caution on flapping winds...
to land where I am welcomed,
and see every hand touching mine;
only when the their joy returns, I can certainly smile!

Details | Free verse | |

To my grandma

                                   To my Grandma
                      November 21st 1957- May 7th 2012

A mother proudly raising her 3 beautiful children.
A son that will soon go fight for our country
A daughter that will be blessed with four children
An other Daughter that will be gifted in the arts.
That will always be there for them
To make a joke
Or heal a wound.

A Wife to a solder of the old red white and blue
For 34 years of being married on July 19th.
Always being there for him when he needs her most
And happy care for him in sickness and health.

A grandmother to four young girls
An artist and a poet
A rock-star at heart
A soon to be teacher 
And a little princess
Has cared for and looked after 
Was there to talk to when no one else would listen
Would love to hear or see their talents 
Always had a blasted watching their favorite tv shows or movies.

That's what I think an awesome grandma is.
I go to her resting place and with a smile tears rolling down my face i say
"I love and miss you Grandma"

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tater Sack Annie

On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means."

Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch

Details | Rhyme | |

Grandma's Becoming A Republican

Grandma’s Becoming A Republican!

There was something that I was able to hear…
Grandma is going to be a Republican this year!

I remember her talking of the great depression.
Many years that created a lot of tension!

I remember her talking of days gone past.
Wondering how much longer
 our country would last.

I remember her talking of doing many things.
And has experienced 
what life daily brings!

Because of how things have
 been so dramatic.
She decided long ago to be democratic!

Beyond all of the politics and chatter…
She loves God!  And that’s what matters!

We love her dearly!  And it’s been decided…
Everything she needs…  
God has provided!

We congratulate you grandma with your choice!
We say “we love you!” 
With one heart and voice!

Our prayers are with the choice grandma’s givin!!
May God bless her! Each day she’s livin’!

By Jim Pemberton

Details | Couplet | |


Before my mother.
Plays with water gun,
Before the plants suffer.

Start worshiping God,
Without thinking anything odd.

Then sit in the sunshine,
With her friends for sometime.

Having breakfast having lunch,
And give us a milk punch.

Then sleep for few hours,
And worshiping God again with flowers.

And watches T.V till dinner,
With my mother and sister.

And sleep at nine,
By thinking the time is fine,
At the age of Eighty Nine.

Details | I do not know? | |


There was a little old lady
She lived on her own
She had 3 children

They were gone
They had grown

She had a husband
He was gone
He had died
But by my recall
You hadn't cried

You are strong
Of course you always have been
I see you laugh over and over again

All the time you are giddy
You are never cross
God bless you Grace
You are always the boss

Whether defending Douglas
Or arguing about school
You are always strong
You are never the fool

Though like all of us
You get stuck in a rut
Like with dark chocolate
Or with coconut

You have your faults
But you have your place
Thank you for you
God bless you Grace

Details | Free verse | |

on memories, the soul and gentle breezes

She has seen so much before Her eyes 
they have lost their sparkle 
She sits in Her chair to watch the hummingbirds 
flit and sip at the bird feeders She has prepared 
She has made those for years 

i remember sitting with Her and talking 
about boys and schoolwork 
and how beautiful the hummingbirds 
sounded as they zipped past the screen door 
we know they will return 

Her taste for pecans never 
prevented Her from collecting them 
off Her land for pies and candies 
Her legs hurt from walking too long 
how i miss picking pecans with Her 

as i grew time was lost 
and i visited Her less and less 
with regret i think of 
all the talks and fun and laughter 
while we canned fruits and jellies together 

i wish i could bring back those years 

the summer before i was married 
we talked of love and happiness 
and i was privileged to know how 
Pa and Ma met when she asked, 
"Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?" 

we stayed up 'til morning talk of 
mike and how She believed he was an 
angel and how She met her first husband 
and the birth of mimi, i know She has 
always love me 
i am Her pride and joy 

She has lived a long life that was hard 
but worth it because She has produced 
a wonderful family 
that babies Her in Her old age 
oh, how She hates that 

She talks about Her last days as if 
tomorrow Her soul will take flight 
and wonders why God hasn't sent for Her yet 
perhaps She is not done 
or He wishes Her to see something precious 

i wonder if it is for me (how narcissistic) 
to see my wedding or the birth of the daughter 
that will carry Her middle name 
She cried when i told Her that 
but that's how much She means to me 

i vainly pray that She will live long enough 
to see these things that are important to me 
when She will be able to hold 
with Her middle name 
Her great-great-granddaughter, LEE ellen 

now She sits in her rocking chair 

watching the hummingbirds 
Her soul takes flight upon a gentle 
breeze that carried Her far away in time 
when She could pick pecans and can jellies 
when She and Pa met 

or when Her children were born 
i know many stories from Her past 
and i am proud that i am the only one 
that has taken the flight with her soul 
on one of those gentle breezes

Details | Blank verse | |

She Said

She Said
By Spidey Williams

She gave me a kiss followed by a long hug
With the words “Never will I betray your love”
I’m here with you to the very end 
As your grandmother and mother’s best-friend
I know you are scared to trust 
But I understand you’re not much different then us
The longer we live the more we learn
The more we embrace love the more we get burned
The more we refrain from love the more we cry
The more we ignore love the more we lie
Life is what we make it I was always taught
So what life have we made for each other and how much did it cost
Were we over charged or did we fail to bargain for what we bought
Did we buy at first glance?
Or knowingly did we take that chance 
Thinking we could sell it back at a higher price
Not realizing few people would actually want our life
Yet we live life like there’s no tomorrow
Then justify all of our sorrows
Then we act surprise when tomorrow comes and goes
When seasons changes and we finally reap what we have sewed
Realizing today is the aftermath of yesterday and tomorrow is the direct result of 
Yet when do we now have time to pray 
Or should I say 
When will we take time to say okay?
I am only me
But I can be more than me
If only I accept the now for now and worry later later
Than maybe life wouldn’t seem that bad now later

I went to interrupt her and to voice my concerns
When she placed one finger on my mouth then
She said,
You said the longer we live the more we learn
The more you refrain from loving the more pain burns
The more we embrace love the more we cry
The more we ignore love the more we lie
Life is what it appears to be
Even in the time of misery 
Life isn’t really mystery 
It is a puzzle with all the necessary pieces of life
You have everything you need you just have to fit them right
  She said!

Details | Free verse | |

The Prodigal Son

Let this day vanquish our differences
for father is still the head.
Put by our petty grievance,
let family rule the day.

Come brother let us be at peace
your heart can melt this snow.
The voice of child was always you
and the tears of ancestors
now watch with pride 
of the man you have become.

Your place in life
 is to be at this feast,
the family is united.
This legacy of Christmas joy
has written your story.
The manger has carried your children
and a star shines upon this house
because of you.

So remember this day
family is precious
 the joys of the world belong to you

 Happiness has smiled 
 health is in celebration.
So Grandmother be proud
for this is the legacy of you.

 Joy permeates this house
The eyes of the child 
look up to the family.
So drink to mother and father
for they gave roots to this tree.
Our family is the earth and the earth is you,
On this day we can all believe.

The hurt of the world be gone
It is a day of forgiveness
and that is enough.

Rejoice on this special day
Christmas was born for you.
The pages of time are yours to write
and your story will go on and on.

Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes its hard not to wonder

Sometimes its hard not to wonder what life your child might lead
 youve taught them everything they know but it was there choice to listen.
 It broke your heart when there was a problem they had to deal with alone or they didnt ask you for help anymore to make chocolate chip cookies 
you feel useless as a parent when your kid doesnt need you
 and sometimes its hard not to wonder what life your kid might lead 
a simple thought that even the best parents ponder is will they be good or bad 
will they help you at the grocery store
 or kick and scream on the floor in front of prejudice shoppers 
will they be successful or counterproductive 
will you wave at them when your ordering your hamburger at mcdonalds 
or will they be the ones saying we found you a new kidney 
will you be a grandfather or grandmother someday watching your grandchildren do the cutest little things
 or will your child even produce kids at all. Will they be sick as we know all children do 
but will they be really sick something that doesnt just require
 hot stew and cough syrup to get better trust youve taught them
 well they know all they know because of you and greater forces at 
play and because of that theyll be okay 

Details | Sonnet | |

Seeds Of Knowledge

Our greatest grandmother took a bite from
the fruit of knowledge of evil and good. 
Admittedly, the act was downright dumb,
since it was the only thing which she could 
have done to give offense without hope of pardon. 
Our greatest grandfather, equal in blame, 
caused LandLord eviction from the garden, 
after attempts to hide his naked shame. 

But what if Eve got more than just a bite -- 
and smuggled seeds in folds of her new skirt? 
There’s a possibility that we might 
eat of that tree again; what could it hurt? 

It’s a knowledge that we seem to have lost, 
despite its dreadful value and its cost.

Details | I do not know? | |


i was just a small girl, when you hurt my  world.
you hurt me for so many days.
days turn into weeks
now i'm left defensive less and weak.
now I've got this big secret on my shoulder.
who can i trust because everyone to busy to notice's hurting me.
what you stole was priceless.
in every one eye sight he hurts me every night.
blind by his kindness.
force to live in hell, my place of home.
faking is so hard, could barely stand too young to make it on my own.
the blood in my underwear, the pain in my eyes; he didn't care.
so young i had to grow up, be strong and stand in the sight of fear.
trap between evil and good.
do other girls go through this? or is this just in my neighborhood.
my hurt and pain how could a little girl take in so much.
i yearn for my mother touch, my father strong hands, my sisters to understand,
my brother to protect me, my cousins to never neglect me, my aunts advice,
my uncles meanest, my best friend hug, my Neice smile, my grandmother 
caught  up in sorrow, confuse and daze in my mind  
with my pain i can't go backwards 
yet now i grown and its over and done ,now i leave my past behind and walk 
was lost now i'm found
like Maya Angelo i rise! i can to stand on my own ground.
in my soul i forgive but i cant forget, the heartache forever lives inside.
my past i bury and forever hide

Details | I do not know? | |

Time Will Tell

"Time will tell.."
Time has told...
I am getting way to old...

The sun is no longer brighter then the moon
I can't tell a fork from a spoon

I don't drive anymore I only sit and stare
I have to have total care

I used to speak when spoken to
I could react and know what to do

I used to tie my own shoe laces
I used to go places

I once worked on a job for many years
This disease was my worst fear

My mother and grandmother passed it on to me
I can't see what you see

I used to smell flowers and saw how very pretty they were
Now everything to me is one big blur

Family and friends ask me things and I can't reply
Only Our Lord and Savior knows why

For I know I am here with you all and I know that it's going to be okay
Just love and care for me each and every day

We will meet again this I know
When God calls me I have to go

I will tell the others I see that you said "hello and you will see them soon"
I pray for you my child that the sun stays brighter then the moon

Love Always

Details | Free verse | |

I'll See You Again

Nana awakened from her nap with a smile,
She said ninety-five years is a whole lot of living.
I shook my head and smiled as I agreed.
She looked around the room, 
She said I’m just an old gray bear
Her eyes were trained on me…
No, you are just my sweet grandmother, as beautiful as can be ~
We began to walk through many life memories;
She’d kicked the devils behind with one foot,
And flew with one wing, still managing
To knock it too its knees…
Who knew, that she was preparing me to take up the mantle?
A task that seemed a little hard to touch;
Yet, I did it anyway and in that moment,
She began to be spirited away
To the golden gates of heaven
To sit amongst the saints, and feast
In our Lord’s brilliant presence ~
I can still see her sweet smile 
And hear her tender whispers till the winds…
When the battle’s truly over, I’ll see you again.

Details | List | |



A grandmother loves grandsons:

in the womb, at childbirth

and the times sad or with mirth

by the soul without girth 

in the love, with no dearth

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
     January 12, 2010

Inspired by Poetry Soup member contest:  RHYME TIME 	
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Details | I do not know? | |

My First Kiss

My First Kiss

This is something I will remember for the rest of my life. Wow! It was nice.
Of course, it was years ago, but it seems like it was only a moment in time. Yes! 
Absolutely fine.

My first kiss made me cry. I often wonder why? No need to lie. It was wet and juicy.
After the first, there was a second, and then a third. I mourned and made unusual 
sounds. I was told to hold still and stop acting like a little clown.

No one witness this event, but I remember. It was doing the month of lent. For me, it 
was not entertainment. What was I to do? I was smother and covered.  I didn’t have 
the strength to fight, I couldn’t even take flight. I hear you saying, right! Honestly, it 
happened that night.  

Now! The real truth.  Trust me, I only tell my friends. I was only two, I don’t know about 
you.  She kept looking down at me. I wasn’t asleep, only afraid to open my eyes and 

As grandmother got closer to my crib, she said “honey baby” give me a big kiss, I began 
to twist. My diaper was heavy and weighting me down, I could do nothing but stick 
around. Mom and dad were in the living room, I cried and almost died.

Now I know what its like to kiss a fish. Grandma almost sucked the breath out of me. 
Her kiss covered my mouth and noise like a giant water hose.

Even today, I don’t like kissing grandma. We touch hands as she fans. For sure! She is 
my best girl friend, but I don’t kiss her.  Because, she will suck all your wind. 

 Love you grandma, you are my best girl friend…

Dr. “G”

Details | Rhyme | |


There is a place i go that is deep in my heart and soul
remembrance of my incredible childhood fills my mind.
Building sand castles on the beach and watching the Victorious Ocean
crash high above the rocks. Roasting marshmallows and making smores in
my grandmothers back yard the sweet scent of woodsmoke and chocolate
fills the air. My soul begins to dance as I hear the Bluejays and bluebirds singing
there morning song waking up the earth. They also have remarkable wings and amazing 
eyes when the sun hits them there eyes turn vibrant hazel green. Walkingon the beach 
feeling the warm sand between my toes it warms my heart. My Grandmother's soul
will forever soar with the bluejays and bluebirds singing there morning song waking up the 
earth. In memory of My Grandmother Marjorie Roberts May God Rest her soul!
By Julie Rene leek

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


Dear fate

I’m writing a letter

so that you come

take me faster

in whatever form

a lot of fights

a lot of scars

a lot of ups

a lot of downs

mama prepare for homecoming

I coming home

with the midnight express

I’ll be on my way…

there is nothing here for me anymore

only that miss you more

the last time I go to sleep

will be the day I awake

and see you again

Details | I do not know? | |

Brought up my late Grandmother (2005)

Grandmother Grandmother can’t you see
That all of you is a part of me
Whether you were absent you were not
I have got everything you have got
Grandmother Grandmother you fed me strong
Even though you were gone all along

I love you and miss you so much

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

self help

I heard loud screams coming from a quaint 
decapitated building as I approached
the entrance way I could see the image 
of a woman standing near the window 

there were others screaming also 
I hurried inside only to be overcome 
by thick black smoke the woman continued 
calling to me as I made it pass the chard door 
as two men laid in the hallway the woman wailed
I tried desperately to save her apon entering
her apartment filled with flames her hair melted 
to her face her slippers melted to the tarry linoleum 
I panicked at this horrid sight this woman still alive
reaching for me with one hand the other hand 
was melting against the vinyl drapes 
my mind wondered how to save this dying woman 
her nylons began to ignite her legs and apron string
I was clearly distraught as sirens could be heard
from a distance away the woman reached out again 
as I reached for her hand oddly she was wearing  
my ring given to me by my grandmother years ago
I glanced in the mirror of this woman's suffering
there was so much smoke i could hardly see 
but to my surprise this dying woman was me

Details | I do not know? | |

my grand maa

my grand ma

How would I forget 
23th  the day my grand mother
Loose her breath
Suddenly call I get 
About my dear ones death
My sis said 
That my grand ma is dead
My ear stop to hear 
And my brain was in fear
I wish everything was wrong
But my grandmother had gone
She had said bye 
And tears came in our eye
We tend to cast
The beauty of her past
We may stop cry
But our tears will never dry
She will live in our heart 
Never a part
My grand ma was 
Best all from rest……..

Details | Free verse | |

The Noise I Breathe

He stalks me for all but the
Short five hours of the day while I sleep.
6am, the sun rises, 
Clang, bang the pots and pans.
As grandmother cooks he creeps 
From the kitchen into my room. 

Frightened and annoyed by his disturbance, 
I awake to my daily life 
Where he continues to stalk
And sting my ears.

On the bus, in class, at home, 
He lurks every corner, everywhere. 
Anywhere you go he’s there, 
Especially when you need peace.

The air by which I am circulated, 
Is circulated by an air not of air -
But of noise. 
And after breathing in this 
Intoxicating atmosphere for eighteen years, 
The effects and suffocation cannot be
Tolerated any longer. 

If my ears were goalies, 
They would fail miserably;
None of the noise is blocked out. 
If noise was a murderer, 
He’d pierce every time – 
With no regard for the situation, 
No regard for me. 

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's Rocker

Grandma's rocker
Grandma would sit on her rocking chair 
Rocking all day long.
The chair was her joy each day.
As she grows old.
She loved to rock on the porch.
As the car drove by she would smile.
Now the rocker is old.
It sets in the cold of the day.
Now that grandma is off her rocker!

Details | Rhyme | |

What Dreams Are Made Of

A rabbit is running away, and I’m giving chase. I try to keep up, but he is quickening his pace. My grandmother is packing eggs in a suitcase. There is a girl with a veil covering her face. The fields are covered in Queen Anne’s lace. A turtle is hiding inside his carapace. My royal flush hand is in need of an ace. All the while, I’m wondering about this place. I know a pound sterling is equal to a hundred pence. However, nothing else seems to make sense. All is illogical as nothing is as it seems. These are just some of the things that make up dreams. August 4, 2012 for Kim’s “What Dreams are Made Of” contest.

Details | Verse | |


I see you in the flash of red on a robin,
In the orange of a blackbird’s beak,
A brilliant brightness in the dark
Guiding me to what I seek. What that is, I am not quite sure,
But I feel I ought to see this through
First by daring myself to at last let go,
Then by putting all of my trust in you.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Train That Took Them Home

Written by:  D. Collins 12/19/14

Being that it is now Christmas time.
Two influential people come to mind.
Although, they’re not here, I won't shed tears.
The world hasn’t a clue of what they did over the years.

From their stem you get a person like me.
Born to help others, but not instinctively.
I went through training on being good to the core.
Because, the way I was, caused many to quit before.

My Grandmother and her son never gave up on me.
Whatever they were seeing, I just could not see.
Their repeated repetition and expression of love.
Finally seeped in , and eventually woke me up.

So, like them, I pass along what I have learned.
Hoping to get through, before a life gets burned.
By putting in work, I hope that when I am gone.
I’ll be on that train that took them home.

Details | ABC | |

Dear Grandma

Theres no one in this world who can compare to you or can even come close
Your the best grandmother anyone could ever ask for i love you most
I know I dont always show you how much you mean to me
Im sorry for all the times I was a brat and how I would be
No matter what I say without you I wouldnt have anything and you mean more to me than you know
Im sorry from the bottom of my heart and the good I will try to show
To you Grandma I wrote this for you with all my love
Everyday your in my heart and in my head your always thought of

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


we were taken again beyond the gates of katyn  I'd begun to challenge morale feelings over a sudden stench bellowing from under the chartered tanks silence abroad Auschwitz my knees chattered while facing the cold damp window pane my heart nearly shattered non responsive I suppose I would remember small things like the empty clock that sat on the
night stand the coil spring the map to belzec replaced with dead dandelions comfort had become a
slow moving line as we awaited the hot brass to brand our pale skin softly I whispered why I must be next as the grunting hot breath crawled down my back my only solace was hidden inside the hem of rags I wore a passage read among Dante's most ravishing canto's oh how retchid the mere past times that wandered aimously about my arched form I'd remembered not to slump focusing on the Catholic medallion of st Francis clutching it within my raw fist full of sores and blisters how pretty I felt still while uniformed guards exposed the white letters s and p the special kind policing the line leading this morbid place I remembered my grandmother had gone before us and now an awakening sight sang out through this mist of fire breathing almost just beyond the palace my memory of stale sourdough bread and hot potato soup why I'd been here before clinging to life's treasures I'd carefully opened excepting the gravity and useless attempts of sparing the poor soul's behind me the line moved yet again screams filled thee earths air as though the sun had finally fallen into the ocean blue covering thy living flesh I'd spoken calmly while meaningless madness aroused my being over come with a past so very well known memories of my father and not of my own

Details | Rhyme | |

Grandma Got Run Over

Grandma Got Run Over
You all know the song but do you know the true story behind the song?

Grandma got run over by my Grandpa
But he blamed it all on Santa Claus
I asked why he would ever lie to Grandma
He just looked at me and then he said “because
Grandma won’t remember just what hit her
She’ll believe ‘bout anything we say
So rather than her doghouse for a life time
We’ll say it was eight reindeer and a sleigh
We’ll even write a little song about it
She’ll be proud to be a part of history
So when she wakes up you be sure to tell her
It was reindeer and don’t ever mention me”

So there you have the truth behind the story
About the time that Grandma got run down
She looks at me and Grandpa when she hears it
Grandpa smiles but he and I still hold our ground


Details | Epic | |

A Tribute To Those Who Walked The Trail of Tears

My BROTHERS --the Cherokee ---you may refer to me as cross-breed-- or not.
As an ancestor ----if it’s your aspiration?
My Grandmother----half Cherokee- half Blackfoot----as the old tales were told.
Citizenship with your sovereignty —till she was three—that I discovered-
with-in her descendants origin.

My Grandmother ---bought off your reservation after your----- relocation.
Bought by my Grandfather a “white-man” -------to the root!!
172 years belated —consider this --a cross-breeds apology--an accolade --to your entire- 
A nation and PEOPLE-- forcibly removed in 1838-----by the U.S. Government.
Hundreds of Cherokee died----- Who Walked the Trail of Tears.

A NATION and PEOPLE-- vehemently abolished in 1838.
By the U.S. Government---with-in President Andrew Jackson’s administration.
Consider this a cross-breeds apology --with a symbol- ----eternally existing. 
Of the anguish and affliction on the Trail Where They Cried--- the symbol of the Cherokee- 
rose--that still grows------- that still grows!
Consider this a cross-breeds Tribute to Those Who Walked --that Trail --filled with- 
Cherokee Tears.

No words can justify-- no expression can advocate --- what Jackson’s administration-
No apology, no apology, would seem adequate or tolerable---to ONE human race.
Notably ----your NATIVE RACE!!
Innumerable thousands have spoken their inadequate and intolerable claims.
Knowing only one and only one-- honest, respectful, faithful, and trustworthy vindication-
would have sufficed.  

Consider this-- cross-breeds desire for -----Forgiveness.
Forgiveness for any ancestral involvement---in the mass genocide of your civilization.
Healing our nation --from OUR CURSE—must embark from hear—hear at forgiveness.
Forgiveness extended by --OUR CREATOR---to our race and yours.


Details | Rhyme | |


Called to you from down here
Had to hear your voice
Thanked you for the love you gave
Loved you for your choice

One sleepless night
Drawn to the stars
Fiery flight of glory
Red beauty of mars

Delicate and eased
Character so bright
We were very pleased
On one sleepless night

Passion in approach
You presence all so near
You swooped down from the star lit sky
And flew away with my fear

Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Group

I arrive early for the meeting.
Row upon row of chairs
face forward, like a flock of sheep, 
nose to tail, waiting for a shepherd.

My grandmother raised sheep,
cows, pigs, geese, and children.
Grandpa buckled under tuburcolosis,
leaving her seven kids to raise.
"Waste not, want not," served well
as a mantra over rugged paths,
and pastured her fleecy days.

With no aid from government,
church, neighbor, or relative,
she prevailed where others failed,
sharing the bounty garnered 
from those wooly mammals 
of endless grazing.

As these empty chairs fill,
what shepherd will lead us
into the fold of words;
power words for change,
wisdom words for growth,
magic words for dreams,
with teeth piercing to the core,
strong jaws for chewing,
and sensitive tongue
to taste those other words
floating around these chairs
of tail-wagging writers?

Details | Than-Bauk | |

quote me CHAPTER and CURSE


No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are these douche bags who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostage while holding a gun
But stoned cold junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun

I knocked down and old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing an inhabited home the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl

Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn back around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one those PHun-loving PHools 

What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply can’t trust
The ones who think havoc is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building  because I know there are riches in apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat a man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree

So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And you all deserve to be robbed because you’re rich and undoubtedly kind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her closet of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize there ain’t nothing of yours I wouldn't have sold  

I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would be rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never really take a life  
           © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

Details | Blank verse | |

Family Values

Family Values?
My great grandmother was your family values.
She scrubbed your floor and burped your baby, while my great grandfather 
looked for work as a dishwasher.
When have you ever valued my family?
I work, my will work.
You give her six weeks maternity.
I have no pension, sometimes the tension the builds and I scream at my 
One time she had lost her keys and sat outside until I got home.
Where had she been to get those bruises?
When have you ever valued my family?
Yes, you like me to work.
But your dogs chase my daughter when she walks on your yard.
Your eyes wave sticks at my face when I drive by your home.
Family Values?
Where is your God?
Mine is nearby.
I pray one day that your lies choke on his truth.
Until then, I seethe in the heart of my suit 5 days a week, waiting for your death or 

Details | Rhyme | |

Visiting the Home Place

Visiting the Home Place

By Elton Camp

I went back to see the old home place this year
For no location on earth is, to me, nearly so dear

My grandfather built the house with his own hands
Despite the passing years, I have heard it still stands

Its grounds he tended and trimmed with loving care
I hope that his shrubbery and flowers are still there

That it wasn’t the finest around I now understand
But in my memory, it was roomy and quite grand

The wide front porch where the family sat at night
The day’s work done, all seemed calm and right

Parlor with stuffed chairs, piano against the wall
How fondly, and with such detail, I recall them all

Baking prizes my grandmother won at the state fair
Now in my house and preserved with greatest care

My mother’s bedroom when she was a child
It’s where she slept, played, read and smiled

Master bedroom where my grandparents slept
All these years, their carved bed I have kept

Then the dining room with its massive table
To seat family and many friends it was able

Its shiny marigold carnival glass bowl
Was by my mother trusted to my control

I protect it on display in my house still
And, if possible, hope that we always will

The country kitchen, of treats a treasure trove
I can vaguely remember a black wood stove

The people I so loved are no longer alive
By my visit, to honor them, I will strive

The once-familiar road I drive with care
Knowing that very soon we will be there

Perhaps the ones who reside there now
Will allow us to tour the house somehow

Then, in the distance, its outline I can see
Coming closer I cry, “This surely cannot be.”

For the place that I once had loved so well
Is now an abandoned, collapsing empty shell

Where are all the flowers and shrubbery gone?
A massive oak, slowing dying, stands alone

The fine old barn where, as a child, I’d play
Has, long ago, fallen into ruin & rotted away

An old adage springs into my mind right then
One now seen true,  “You can’t go home again.”

So I drive slowly on by with the greatest regret
Yet, for the memories, I remain forever in debt

Details | Sestina | |

Moonlight Adventure

The beautiful day begins in the house.
At the end of it, all that’s left of it is the moon,
Shimmering in all the night’s light.
A door to another world opens.
The only movement is a page turning in a book. 
Suddenly, without notice, an inconceivable object drops.
The thing jumps and twirls and once again drops.
A person from another time, the future, enters the large house.
The man, pacing back and forward, finally sends away the hovering book.
He magically transports it to the glistening moon.
Something like a black hole, a portal inexplicably opens.
The book vanishes in a fading yellow light.

The visitor sees something bright, a room full of light.
And inside, a piece of paper from the hands of a child drops.
The door of the room slightly, quietly opens.
A child and her grandmother are drawing and inscrutable house.
In a circle and a beam of inconceivable beauty appears the moon.
On the page, like the hovering object, once again, is the sight of a book.

The child explains that she has, many times that year, read the book.
But her grandmother slowly shows the girl the true “light”.
Now, the girl understands that she was wrong, and now appears the moon!
It comes closer and closer, and then, like a shooting star, down it drops.
The planet has gone down from the sky to have a conversation in the house.
The moon elegantly flies in, as large as an elephant, and its mouth opens.

And now all of the people come close together and a road opens.
The grandmother and child are guided by a rather large book.
In time, the home disappears; they have left the house.
The book vanishes, and all that leads them is a guiding light.
The key to a room, calmly, as if carried by the wind, drops.
“Come in and let’s have a talk,” says not a person, but a face in white, the moon.

The grandmother is surprised, for she is seeing the real, live moon.
A beautiful and long conversation through all the night opens.
Then as dawn arrives, blood-red, the tone of their voices drops.
Grandmother and child come out of the wonderful book.
Outside it is day, a new beginning, another lively light.
They walk o’er their field and talk till’ they reach the house.

In the morning, the otherworldly man leaves the house.
Also, he disappears in a now magnificent golden light.
That is the end; there are no more pages in this book.

Details | Rhyme | |

Contrails In The Sky

There's not a cloud in the pristine Colorado sky,
But for a myriad of feathery contrails left by airplanes flying high.
I wonder from whence they came and what are their destinations,
As they form arrow-straight patterns of many variations.

They're probably having lunch now, the proverbial pretzels and coke,
The pilot ever alert with steady hands upon the yoke.
What a view that must be from thirty-thousand feet,
Especially for those lucky folks who have a window seat!

What dramas, I muse, are being played out among those aboard.
Some read, others snooze, others keep glazed-eyed seat mates bored!
Harried moms trying to keep their kids from going berserk;
Stressed-out business travelers poring over reams of paper work!

A lonely soldier at a window seat stares dolefully out in to space,
Holding in his heart the memory of his sweetheart's last embrace.
A newly minted grandmother whose face is just a-beaming,
Going to see the new-born babe for whom she has been dreaming!

With clenched white knuckles, tense first-time flyers abound.
A newly-wed pair exchange a kiss, not caring who's around!
The silvery jet speeds upon its way, the contrails dissipate,
With travelers anticipating joyous reunions awaiting them at the gate!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

Details | Rhyme | |

Just One Quick Glance

I look in the mirror and it's amazing to see
A young girl no longer now grandmother of three
The image reflected often gives me a start
At my age I have to watch out for my heart

I've covered the mirrors, I no longer stare
At the wrinkled old woman I always see there
In the blink of an eye and a few years or so
I wonder what happened to my skin's healthy glow

All those glorious beach days have taken their toll
And my once hardened tummy is beginning to roll
The hair I once teased in my best sixties style
Is wispy and graying and falls out on the tile

I sleep more, I eat more, I don't stay up late
Aging eventually is everyone's fate
But adding up years is the best we can do
Be happy its happening to me and not you

We all must grow older, a true fact of living
Savor each moment with kindness and giving
One day you'll look into a mirror like Snow White
And who's looking back might just give you a fright

Details | Narrative | |

Against Those Who Discourage mOTHER Marian Devotion

O Sweet Father Christ, do these people have Your spirit?
Do they please You in acting like this?
Does it please You, when for fear of displeasing You,
We neglect doing the greatest to please Your Mother? Who’s our mother as well

Does devotion to Your mother, delay devotion to Yourself?
Does she attribute to herself honor we pay her?
Is she a stranger has no connection to You?
Does it displease You when we try to please her?

Do we alienate ourselves from Your love by giving ourselves to honoring her?
Yet my Sweet Master, 
Greater learned not discourage to Your holy mother 
Even all that I have said were true

Therefore, they’ve been punished for their pride!
Keep me Lord, form their sentiments and practices
Please give me share sentiments of gratitude
Esteem, Respect and Love
You has in regard to Your Holy Mother
The more I imitate her, follow her
The more I may Love and Glorify You

As if up to this point
Still I said nothing in honor of Your holy Mother
 'Give me grace to praise You worthily,' 
In spite of all her enemies, who are Yours as well
Grant me say loudly with the saints 
'Let not that man believe to look for the mercy of Eternal God 
Who offends His holy Mother 

Details | Ballad | |


I bought my house for its mirrored walls 
in the master bath from which you could fancy 
yourself as a forties' film star, your flawless 
body soaking in billowing suds, or stepping into 
a glassed-in shower, large enough for a tryst 
with Tarzan, be he resident of a nearby tree.  

I imagined Don Perignon cooling in a basin, 
and me: Maureen Sullivan, with or without an 
Ape Man, poised for my swinging life, coupe 
in hand. Instead, stumbling in half-light toward 
morning ablutions on the quotidian blank page 
of my life, mirrors conjured up not Hamlet's 
perturbed, parental spirit, but a woman with my 

mother's face.  In her summer frock, frenzied 
with flowers, prim white hat, and a crocheted bag 
in the crook of her arm, she is standing on 
the sidewalk outside my grandmother's white-
columned house in Georgia, where she sought 
safe haven before a failed life, Jack Daniels 
whiskey, and the cancer monster claimed her.

"So easy to spoil" it was said, so how is it life did 
not work for her? -- "My beautiful, beautiful 
daughter, wailed my grandmother like a banshee, 
she, of the stiff, upper-lipped Prussian forbears, 
as we drove forty solemn miles to lay her favorite 
in Rebel heaven alongside a great-grandfather who 
lost an arm at the battle of Cold Springs, his 
grim-faced wife, bedrock beside him.

Peace was the prize my mother never won, 
no treaty ever offered, pardon long in coming.  
I see her poised like a dancer, sad history 
surrounding her, a smile as unreadable as Mona 
Lisa's under eyes like mine that have seen too 
much of the sorrow of this world.  "It all 
comes down to this," Anne Sexton wrote, "We 
ARE our mothers--that's the main thing."

Details | Rondeau | |

where is caylee rondolet

Where is Caylee?
A little girl with smiling eyes
Where is Caylee?
No one’s seen her around lately
But her mother swears she’s alright
Now Grandma’s nose smells homicide
Where is Caylee?

(*this is supposed to capture the moment in time before they found her body --. for those of you who don't know the story, Caylee disappeard and her mother Casey Anthony told lie after lie about where she was. Caylee's grandmother got suspicious when she smelled the scent of a dead body coming from Casey's trunk. people and police searched for the little girl and eventually found her body buried in a trash bag, duct-taped. Casey just went to trial for it and was acquitted of the murder, much to the dismay of the general public.)


for Dr. Ram's contest

Details | Verse | |

Grandmother tales ....

As a fairytale is read young girl dreams 
Through her life she ages through to woman 
Still she remembers word from word 
The tale her grandmother would tell 
As she fell upon her grandmothers arm 
Her dreams were so near
A love a moment of completeness
A beauty that covered each word that was told 
Her grandmother was wise as she said one day it would unfold
Young girls eyes as the stars slept with sparkles
Crystals of imaginative times spread across her mind
Now a woman she tells her child the same tale 
One grandmother said in all good time 
You will have your dreams pleased 
Like adoring stars you will be kissed 
A fairytale will begin 
Hear the angels above sing
Do not search as the tale will follow 
My dearset child as all dreams start from within 
Hold them close in your mind and let them love in your heart
They will find you as all fairytales are owned 
They are rejoined in time they will find you
As like the locket grandmother gave it is yours 
As a fairytale was sent cherish it and don't let go
Just like the tale your grandmother owned ....

Details | Free verse | |

Why is the rain blue


    I shall try to explain,

    but the world is not logical.

    the bank notes are old and crinkling.

    your face appears like it's own negative

    the wind glows and the sun howls.

    why is the rain blue?

    i wanted a new weapon but the rainbow was

    too long,i need something small and portable,

    like a pen i once had.

    just a pencil and paper will be fine,

    but please look round.

    we're all related in the DNA

    but the fighting goes on, for what?

    does it matter my great grandfather was a Viking

    who killed when necessary

    or my grandmother sang in Gaelic

    and swooned over dead children?

    i can't see but i hear their voices murmur.

    a blue and a brown will go together

    like Harris tweed.

    shall i give you some needles to patch yourself

    before it's too late?

    i have long threads and connections for you,

    if you will listen.

    you don't need the A to Z of London

    in this world

    it's not relevant any more

    to know exactly where you are,

    just use the finger tips to feel the cave walls.

    do we know whether to go back or forward

    or even upside down?

    trust the sense of bones and nerves

    and the sea in our veins

    linking us all

    into a human whole.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Damage Will Always Be There

The Damage Will Always Be There

I cried,I bleed,And now my heart longer beats the same way it did before I meet you.My heart feel broken,i feel like a rag doll played with over and over again only to be thrown away.I miss your love but now your gone and my hearts ache the most it has ever.There are time's I wonder if  I have been lying to myself,I must be because my heart should fee lighter it should feel like a free winged bird but it not.The damage the cuts the sores they shall be with my from happy time to sad time because you put them there.You who I looked up to you never promised I know but it aches from every thought of you.How come how come I must be alone in this world? It sound selfish but I only want you back to be here beside me and tell me you love me and I'm doing a great job with everything.Why does it hurt to think of you?why does it pain me to want to be lose to anyone?why does everyone leave me behind when I need them the most?why am I so closed up with a stone wall full of hate surrounding my heart?I know it shouldn't be there but do you? In time the cut will heal and the sores shall vanish.But what about the feelings and the damage inflicted upon them will never leave.Yes it sounds so cliche yes you've heard it all before.But really and this is know this is said this is everything I know.The damage is there no matter how much it seems to have healed.

For my grandmother who i lost now 5 years ago Granny i miss you i wish you would have fought for us a little longer then you did.

Details | Haiku | |

grandma's anecdotes haiku

grandma's anecdotes
on the back porch in summer
volumes for the mind....

Details | Rhyme | |


Oh! these silly britches
I'll have to talk to grandma 
they need new stitches
and a nip, and a tuck
I love the way she fixes things
she has that special touch.

I'll bring to her a sewing basket
with all the needles and threads
and while she is sewing them
I can eat some of her fresh baked 

She always glad to fix things for
me and my sister Ray and always
has a smile for us at any time
of the day.

When our britches begin to hang to
low, we always know where to show,
Grandma's house, that is right
Come on Ray, lets go.

Details | Free verse | |

She Steps as Rose

For V.R.S.
A bend, a pirouette--a flower's dance
reflects in his shadowed eyes, and in her
thorned steps, the atrophying force rooted and redoubling.
Promise me, he breathes behind a teacup
while she is encapsulated in a globe of fading light.
The briny-dotted atlases sit reverent,
assembled beside the living-
room's songs of foreign heartbreaks, each seeded and
grown rampant ivy on her mind's towers, those unseen
cracks of weathering leaving only dreams
of dreams to recirculate like seasons in a day.
Worn linen florals ebb about her body, settling in her late autumn
and hoary winter languishes beyond the pane
where wind-animate limbs, a veiny applause, galely
knock, and her upon the balustrade of
the Palladium,
Hermetic roses beneath her toes.
Were we ever as good as frozen petals?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Across Fair Fields

Run across the fair fields, as fast as you can run, the fields your grandmother ran as a young girl,
Over long lush dark green grasses, whipping your knees, soft spongy turf springs each new step,
To stop where fast flowing streams rush and dance to the wind, a sweat breaking out on your face,
All out of breath kneeling by the bank of a brook, a stitch in your side, corn waves like a gentle sea.

By the brook with childhood friends enjoying sweet company watching spring as her beauty unfolds,
To walk across wet water mead’s, seeing glades in their finest clothes, to a meadow, in full flower,
Rolling in grass making camps sitting legs crossed as warm summer breezes temper-sweating brows,
Making sure you sit next to the one you care for most, nothing will be as good as this day ever again.

Playing in the meadows where your grandmother played, picking daisies, making very long chains,
Holding buttercups up to chins to see if they shine, then laughing, shouting out loud when they do.
Playing kiss chase, slightly slowing down, when the one you want to be kissed by is chasing you,
Under old pear blossom trees, flushed rosy red cheeks sitting next the one who is your first love.

Laying in high grass chin in cupped hands, it is so special this lovely day will be yours for all time,
Just staring at friends, full of innocence and so happy, this romantic time can never be repeated,
Unplanned moments where beautiful things just happen it’s your youth just enjoy the here and now,
Where everything is brighter has more colour, smells from the meadows become a memory for life.

Laying on your back staring at turquoise watery skies, listening to the silence, a perfect sunny day,
Heaths meeting small woods surrounded by greenest carpets only seen by a child’s pure innocence,
Give your heart and soul to this day enjoy natures gifts, your end of days will recall these moments,
Falling asleep in the December of your life, this last dream your friends will be there waiting for you.

So gather these thoughts, tie them up in a bow, put them safely in a corner of yesterday’s thoughts,
And walk again with your dear young friends in those happy times golden hair fluttering in the breeze,
Back to days of cotton dresses and turned-up jeans with baggy shirts, nobody noticed or even cared,
Hold your sweethearts hand once again and run across the fair fields where your grandmother ran.

Details | I do not know? | |

Fallen Angel

She watched over me everyday and night she always knew what to say when tears 
filled my eyes.
She taught me how to believe, live, love myself, and be strong she taught me what 
a good heart will get you in the long run.
She held my hand even when I wasn’t afraid she told me I was beautiful everyday.
She accepted me for who I was and not what she wanted me: to be she told me the 
best motivation will come from within me.
 She told me this little secret that help me get through life and till this day I never 
ask her why.
She told me “baby you have to smile sometimes to hide your pain your only regret 
will be to look down on yourself because others do, love yourself before you love 
the next and stay away from negative people.”
She was always talking about angels and how they can come in different disguise I 
never question her or attempt to ask her why.
As I grew older I ask for an angel but I never knew that my whole life an angel lived 
with me and that’s when God called her to her final sleep.
“Father could I have my angel back?” I wept one night.
And he came to me in disguise.
I ask my grandmother one night “will Mommy ever come back to say goodbye?”
“She’s here by spirit not body baby and goodbye she will never say because she still 
lives on with us till this day.”
I could never understand why I couldn’t see my fallen angel before me.
“Sometimes you have to small baby to hide your pain” I could hear my great 
grandmother say so I smile like it was my last day.
Still yet I fail to believe that my fallen angel has left this world without saying 
goodbye to me.

Details | Free verse | |

Past times

Past times have come,
they lurk within the darkness,
as I sit here fighting to continue on with my journey,
tears roll down my face thinking of....
the things that no longer exist. 
Lost a Tia to death by drugs, a mother to abusive men and drugs, 
a father to child molestation, a grandmother because I had a kid at fifteen. 
I can't tell you how many times as a child I was abused,
how many schools and homes that I have been in. 
No family support, so I do this on my own, 
All I got is my pen and paper and that's all I need. 
No tears can come for there is no emotions in my life. 
Foster care for five years, two kids by the age of 17, 
both wound up in homes with adopted parents, 
How was I to raise them with no one on my side to help, 
Family hates me, because I chose life over murder. 
I don't understand how people can be that way yet claim to be Christians. 
I worship my Father on High and sing praises to all. 
Past times have come but now its time for me to defeat them once and for all 
by using the power of God.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

English Garden

I have found the treasure
that lies at the Rainbow's end;
surrounded by Sweet William, for-get-me knots,
and crimson shades of velvet rose.

Near the cottage of old where I was young,
the quaint charm of the English garden.
Where time has not weathered with due harm,
swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air.

Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst
of a sunny afternoon.
Seconds where dreams danced on the moon,
sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath.
Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes
where a thousand of narcissus bloom.

I watch them sway the day away tossing 
their sweet perfume to the winds.
Wicker seats and ivory benches upon I sit and muse.
The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden,
a rose plot, fringed pool and serenity.

Burn the sage, the leaves of rose and wintergreen
Light the candles in the middle of the afternoon.
From within my center core I breathe for more of this
paradise near heavens view.

Sweet surrender to growing things, cupids chimes in
melody rings, for here is a heavenly peace that mirrors
my thirsty soul.

My x4 Great Grandmother was from England a Duchess but she chose to marry my X4 Great
Grandfather and lost her inheritance and rights for neglecting the wishes of the family in
England. He was a Captain of the sea and brought many to the American shores of Mass. In
reading and studying, I found she loved to write of the sea and those things she cherished
from England and growing up, from memoires, she has touched my muse and from time to time,
I let her speak of such cherished beautiful things.

Details | Rhyme | |


The front page of the newspaper read “Black Ten Year Old Boy Murdered in 
Mississippi Last Night”
A product of a rally that resulted in a racially motivated fight
This reminded me of the years of captivity in which my ancestors faced
Right at that moment, my heart held a feeling that could not be replaced
I went to my grandmother asking why have this took place
She sighed and said to my face
Today is tomorrow, tomorrow is today
Think about what you are thinking and mean what you say
We will always live in the past and nothing else
Because history always, always repeats itself

As I watched TV, there was a news report of a tragic accident
The results of a terrible shootout flashed through the television set in print
A 13-year-old boy murdered 12 of his school peers
The result of constant teasing and growing depression throughout the years
This reminded me of the unforgettable event at a familiar place
Resulting in some dead and many left with problems to face
I went to my grandmother asking why have this took place
She sighed and she said to my face
Today is tomorrow, tomorrow is today
Think about what you are thinking and mean what you say
We will always live in the past and nothing else
Because history always, always repeats itself

As I listen to the radio I hear about conflicts with different rappers; it is sickening
They have no clue of what damage they are causing with all of the foolish bickering
This reminded me of Tupac and Biggie, the famous music war of the season
Now two of the best rappers that lived lost their lives without one good reason
You can still find people mourning over their deaths and see the sadness in their 
Two great men are now buried lying still in their place
I went to my grandmother asking why have this took place
She sighed and she said to my face
Today is tomorrow, tomorrow is today
Think about what you are thinking and mean what you say
We will always live in the past and nothing else
Because history always, always repeats itself 

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

YOU PREACHED: A Tribute to Pastor Arlee Griffith Jr.

you preached to us that the way to achieve an ultimate makeover
is to concede control to God and let the Holy Spirit takeover
you preached to us that we need to take up our towel of service
and then realize and utilize our God given purpose
you preached to us in the year of 2005 
that we are all blessed to even be alive
you preached to us in the year of 2006
that we need to study the word of God to get our spiritual fix
you preached to us in the year of 2007
that there's a happy hour awaiting us up in heaven
you preached to us on how we can make 2008 great
is by getting our relationship with the Lord God straight
you told us we need to do more than just go wishing
but to go out and make disciples by going soul fishing
you told us we need to hear a word from our sponsor, Jesus Christ
and then stay tuned to His channel until we get it right
you told us that whether wise or otherwise
we need to stay focused on God's eternal prize
and when you get into your pastoral groove
your words and message make our spirits move
and when you ask to speak for a few minutes more
believe nobody is making a move towards the chapel doors
to an anointed man of God, Pastor Griffith I thank your grandmother today
for handing God her healing hands that brought you to this day
so congratulations and happy anniversary to you and the first family
for 19 years of leadership and preaching with God's authority

Details | Narrative | |

take me from this misery

* this poem has been inspired by Breaking Benjamin's Dear Agony....*
* and was written in memory of my grandmother Jeanne Gula *

My name is Jeanne Gula, today i found out that i have cancer.
Its in a tumor, that's very painful, its very rare, its 3 cancers into 1
they already took it out once... and it came back.
The doctor said it was to late to take it out again.
Its not the perfect end to my life, but its all i can have..
I don't really know how much more time i have.
I used to be able to walk by myself, with out help.
I can't believe this happened to me... of all people.
It's be coming torture, they called in hospices.
This cant be good...
I'm in my own home, slowly dieing...
I really don't want to leave, I will leave so many loved ones behind..
So I think i will stay a little longer...
Its January, i now can't do anything by myself, i have to rely on family to help with
everything, my organs are starting to slowly shut down, its very painful to go through.
but my daughters birthday is coming soon... I'm not going to leave now... i don't want her
to be sad, on such a happy day.
I can't hold on much longer.
I'm now out of this misery, its feb. 2nd, and I'm finally free.
Free, of all this pain, and I'm healthy again, I can walk, with out hanging on to anything
or anyone, I can finally be independent again...
now no one cry for me, because i lived a full long life, and no longer in pain..
I love you all.
Love Grammy

Details | Classicism | |

Ode to Willene

This poem is a tribute to a woman I love so
Even now my love continues to grow
She left this world with dignity and pride
Her gentle nature she couldn't hide
She had the strength of 100 grown men
She'd make your heart warm with a grin
Her touch was the reason love songs were written
One look from her and you'd become smitten
She was a ray of sunshine in a dark cruel world
Where right and wrong could become swirled
I miss her so much that words can't describe
The pain in my heart or the tears I've cried
Although people everywhere grieve their own way
I grab a pen and paper to dictate what I may
I strive to be like her though I haven't yet
But I'm as great as I can ever hope to get
So I hope that my grandmother hears this ode
And follows me down life's winning road

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

The Wolf Man - The End

This is the second response to The Wolf Man - The End

part 2

The Wolf Man (The End) The young girl, Alice Grimm, was pretty and slim She stayed with her grandmother who lived, deep, in the woods Her coat of wool kept her warm on cold nights All of her white jackets had to have loose-fitting hoods “Alice, where you going?” “To play on the swings.” She would say to her ‘gammie’ but it was all lies Still she played it safe, stuffed a knife in her cape As she made her long trek to where the mother goose flies But deep in the forest the man-wolf he sniffed Her scent was intoxicating he ran at full-speed Little did he know that she knew about her rights If she couldn’t kill the beast, at least, she’d make him bleed… The wolf man, once a man, couldn’t understand Why this bloodlust came over him, it drove him quite mad As he got closer he could hear her heartbeat She wasn’t mad, or sad, or frightened, but glad His was going crazy his thoughts were hazy The man, introverting, the animal, extroverting He could see her ahead, he was seeing red As his paws hit the ground he saw her blood, spurting She knew he was coming, she began to hum He leapt into the air as she withdrew the kitchen knife She slashed at his throat, he fell to the ground “I’ll be damned if some man-beast is gonna take my life!” Carving off the man pelt she stuffed it in her belt She took off her coat and dipped it in his sangria She became known as Little Red Riding Hood When she got home her Gammie screamed, “Mama mia! You have ruined that coat! I’ll rip out your throat!” “I don’t think so, woman, go and chill out! Or I will do to you what I did to the wolf man You’ll be nothing as I knock you about Go and sew yourself things with the wolf man’s skin Meanwhile, I’ll make a meal for us using his meat.” The moral to this is: Be aware of your opponent. She, or he, may not be big but they own the whole street!

Details | Free verse | |

Miss Claris

Out of the hills of St. Catherine and the plains of Linstead 
emerge a warrior princess…
A victor not a victim of her circumstances, struggles or plight
Miss Claris

With warm, loving, industrial hands she raised a large bunch of children…
Curry saltfish, roti, curry goat, fried chicken,
Mackerel run-down, roast yam, bammy
She could cook it all…
Miss Claris

Fierce, blunt, tell it like it is –Miss Claris
She has an endless list of alias for everyone-
Miss Uptown (that’s me), Dunnie, Baugh, Tony, Pauline, Junie, Mellow, Mousy, Sueie, Manchin, Chu-cho, Lovene, Darkie, Sam, Tin-Tin, Troy, PAULINE
Miss Claris
A fantastic sense of style, unconventional sense of religion, devotion to family and friends and a beautiful smile:
Miss Claris

Details | Ballad | |


The sun cracks to wake the day,the smell of bacon in the air 
as I awake to start the day.
I remember
My grandmother in the kitchen, always with a smile,
I remember
Summer vacation was always fun,things to do,chores to be done,
grandma always made it fun
I remember
A scent, a smell, a song, a touch to bring all back
I remember
Those days are gone but in my mind grandma is still in the
kitchen with a smile.
I remember

Details | Free verse | |

Sundays with Eli

Every Sunday we set time aside to hang out together

Just him and I...

We are the best buds in the whole wide world 

And when my son drops him off at my front door I remember why

He thinks I am the greatest thing next to sliced warm apple pie

He thinks I am the greatest opera singer 

And I am the best dancer too

Today we hopped around to some crazy tunes

The Beach Boys and some other oldies but goodies

This afternoon I sang him Bible songs and taught him 

How to equally slobber on both shoulders

He is my golden ray of sunshine--My Elijah!

I think of him often

I rehearse what songs I will sing to him

I even write him into the story lines of my upcoming prose

Oh you should see his rounded pink nose!

He coos and he giggles

And when we lay down for a nap he wiggles and wiggles

Til he finds the perfect spot under my arm

I love being a grandma

And I love our Sundays together

Eli and lola--best friends forever!

Written by Gwendolen Rix

Details | Free verse | |

The Peaceful in Art

The insence smoke makes my eyes water.
The candles flicker natural light onto magazine-cut-out-stained cement walls.
The ipod is plugged in.  it’s charging its own battery.
Kent wafts melodies into me.  
There are no tears
Because I’m doing what I want to do
I’m not doing what was assigned,
Desired of me.
I’m doing what I want to do 
And it feels fine.  
The cat made the appartment smell again,
I don’t want to clean it up.  
I will let the common room stench itself
But I’ll burn the smell out of my own room
So I can at least
Have that something to myself.  
There are colors here that aren’t in nature.
There are colors together that can’t exist together
In nature.
There’s a longing here
That can be fulfilled!
Yes it can be fulfilled by one easy brushstoke
Or two
There are eyes here that need some sleep
And they may have it
Before or after the sun goes down;
Whenever they want.  
I don’t want!  I don’t need!  I long, I desire
I hunger
With a hunger so deep
I long with a longing not need 
Or needing
But a long
Longer than the longing of mankind.  
What was that longing anyway.  
I can wear my jewelry when I paint.  
I used to have to take it off to run the relay.
Here I can wear the ring grandmother gave me
Which is good because it makes me feel powerful and godlike.
I am not a goblin
But they do haunt my dreams.
I am not a person 
But they do haunt my life
And this is what is peaceful about art
It can be done,
In solitary 

Details | Rhyme | |

Christmas Morning

The snow is falling softly on the earth 
this is the wonderful morning we celebrate his birth.
Little children dragging there mommies and daddies out
of there nice warm beds. People on the streets singing the
christmas blues, Angels shouting through the chilly air 
"Halluluah Our Savoir Is born!" This is the Morning where
familys join in happiness and joy.
By Julie Rene Leek!
Dedicated to My Grandmother Marjorie Roberts Who loved Christmas 
the most. We all miss her Now she celebrates His birth with Jesus Christ our
Smile God Love's You Alll

Details | I do not know? | |

Time Here Well Spent

Where does time go...
Does anyone know....

My childhood zipped by light a streak of lighting in the skies,
I look back and say, boy how times flies!

A mother and a grandmother too,
Time is still passing and there is so much left to do.

I talk to God to see if I was doing ok in His eye,
I sitting and waiting on His reply.

Since I don't know how much time I have left on this God created land,
I will continue to love and help where I can.

My current plan is to feed a family a week throughout the month of December, I have had needy days and nights as far back as I can remember.

This is not a task, but a true,true Blessing,
I wish I that I could more than half of what they are requesting...

As this will come later, God Will and His way,
As I fullfill these Blessings I ask that you ALL pray.

Happy Holidays!

Details | Rhyme | |


She wears only a light robe
and doesn't complains it's cold;
may I introduce her to you guys:
her name is crazy Josephine...
she drinks alchool and uses morphine...
what a shame: she a grandmother and tells lies!

Fatter than a cow, she eats cookies
dunked in carnation milk...and laughs as a freak,
or a drag queen showing her silver teeth;
that makes me think: did she ever take down those bullies!

I talked to her and told her to get off that staff immediately,
it doesn't work for her depression and loneliness...
will she heed, or continue doing harm to her body? 
At forty two, she should think of a better existence!  

Let me tell you about the weird personality of Josephine:
she can't cook or make coffee...she only cleans and sings
while Hannessy make her face red and she begins to dance
whispering, " Hi, sweety...hand me some of that ovaltine!"

Mad, mad Josephine, don't seduce me with your flamboyant charm,
I couldn't  lie in bed with you, not even for a moment and whisper romantic words;
it would definetely kill any sexual desire even when the room is calm...
please go somewhere else, and find a boyfriend who won't close his eyes and arms.

Details | Free verse | |

Truthifiction of the bible

The author of the bible must have been god
for Jesus himself never wrote it
and i wonder if Jesus truly existed
then why are we not studying timeless works of art written by the first people
that learned how to read and write?
Another question plagues me
why are there legacies of family traditions of stories in families talked about
handed down from generation from generation
that yes your gret great grandmother was a witch burnt at the stake
or your great great grandfather was a black slave
but why I ask do we never hear those who brag 
through the testimonies of legacies of stories around campfires
that did you know your ancestor touched the hand of christ?
and this story of those days has been in our family for generations?

no one using logic how the world works?
true how quickly we forget
even war veterans pass down terrors of war tortures and terrors of such things
so why did we stop passing down the story of a god?

Is it because the author of the bible was god?
and he knew everthing that happened with jesus and Job
cain and Abel?
or was it just that one day there was a belief
and it was accepted
replaced an old belief
and murdered the old
and we praise it now?

Is this proof we are brainwashed?
gullible even
the fact that the old religion has more stories handed down in generations 
in family 
than this supposed god
who taught us all how to read or write?
I'm sure if i was there to be the first people to learn how to read and write
id write down some stories of the lessons i was taught
tell everyone i knew
of the man i had met who taught me
if the bible is true
and there were that many witnesses

I know id pass it down to my children
and my grandchildren
nieces and nephews

Details | Narrative | |

Grandma's Red Gem

My grandma had a red gem; it was her most prized possession.  When she looked at it you could see her bright eyes shining inside that gem.  She was poor but that gem made her rich for it belonged to her.  The gem and my grandma glowed together she kept in a silver gift box so no harm could come of it.
My grandma had a red gem; she told us stories as how she came to having that red gem.  Our great grandfather was a fisher man, one day he dived deep into ocean and parted the sand and up came the gem.  He loved the gem too for it reminded him of my grandma, so he gave it to her and she promised to keep it forever.
My grandma had a red gem; it was her most prized possession.  She promised to give it to me but I smiled for I knew it didn’t belong to me.  That gem had her heart it was a shoulder she could cry on and a friend she could talk to.  It didn’t belong to me it belonged to grandma.
My grandma had a red gem; on her death bed she sent for her red gem.  She rubbed and kissed it then she closed her eyes.  The red gem fell from her hands I caught it just in time. I connected the red gem to a necklace and at the funeral I placed the red gem around her neck for it was her most prized possession.  She will now be in paradise with her red gem telling everyone the kind and funny stories of that red gem.  

Details | I do not know? | |


What is a grandmother? The definition of a grandmother is, the mother of one's 
mother or father

But you are my grandmother and alot more then that. You have been there for me 
from the time i was born to the time that i am writting this poem for you and will be 
my grandmother for ever

Without you there would be no me you have always had my back and have always 
been there for me

when i think of the words such as beautiful, wonderful, protective, amazing, kind 
and sweet hearted all i can picture is your face

your soul, your ambition and your heart, that you have put into my life, and for that i 
am and will always be forever thankful

you have taught me the meaning of being caring, giving and loving to not only 
myself but as well as to others

you helped me grow, you helped me understand the meanin of being a woman and 
looking inside of myself to bring out the woman that i am

without you i would not know the true abilities that i posses inside because i am a 
part of you

I thank you for being patient with me and i really thank you for my mother because 
if God had not blessed you with her, she would not have had me

I will never forget the love and laughs we now are able to have between us, you 
bring the smile to my face that automatically shines when i think of the love, joy and 
laughter you possess inside

And for all that and much much more i whitney andrea lacey thank you for being my 

Details | Free verse | |


Opal grandmother eyes,
watery milk glass veins
in stick arms
throb weakly,
tense tight white thread
into frayed, thin quilts.

There is a slight rustle
of desperation, a hope
of completion
as smudged pigeons
shatter wind
and winter gives up
its gin clear grace.

Details | ABC | |

lost and found

Im lost in this darkness this 
world of destruction my brother 
is not my brother and our 
mother loves us not running 
with many only a few with 
flashlights who will make it to 
the light as the night grows 
stronger I feel as if I'm weaker  
laughing with those who laugh 
at me and not with me we can 
not be friends because no one 
knows what that is anymore I 
can not love because I haven't 
felt it before I can not give you 
truth because no one showed 
me how, I can not care for you 
because Im careless for self i 
am running alone in this 
darkness with many running too 
some have flashlights but while 
running i open my eyes realizing 
it was never dark eyes wide 
shut is what my grandmother 
says find love in yourself child 
let pain and anger go i feel like 
I've been alone for a long time 
all the while god was with me 
the whole time, i gave my mind 
to the streets my body to those 
not deserving my heart to those 
who didn't need it, they came 
and gone ripping me into pieces 
i found comfort in sin with all 
the sinners but he saved me 
because I'm worth it to him 
GOD came into my room while i 
laid in the dark drugged up and 
drunk and he kissed me and 
said my child NO PAIN, I LOVE 
COULD HANDLE, my mother 
killed herself, my husband was 
murdered in front of me what 
do i have to live for why not run 
threw darkness no one cares 
how i feel inside they take i 
USE IT, but it was a dream or 
was it i have opened my eyes 
wide open i feel i am loved i am 
worth it i am blessed!!!!!!

Details | Rhyme | |

The Rocking Chair

She could sit in that chair for hours
Just rocking the day away
How many kids has she rocked asleep
To its hypnotizing sway

The stories she told held us captive
It's where she read the bible each night
She's always say a prayer with us
Before telling us all to sleep tight

That's where she did her knitting
While quietly humming a hymn
Watching the beautiful sunsets
As the evening skies grew dim

But today that chair sits empty
For my grandmother has passed away
There's no more beautiful sunsets
Or listening while she'd pray

Life for me, has not been the same
For she is no longer there
And how I miss, the good times we had
Around my grandmother's, rocking chair

Details | Rhyme | |

My Strength Renewed, My Rock

On the day of July nine 
In the year of ninety and six. 
Her heart was so pure and so fine 
But too weak for the surgeon to fix. 
Her eyes still shown bright as day 
But her frail body had wasted away 
Her smile as warm as the love 
That she gave through Jesus above 
She knew she would not pull through 
But not one moment of sadness or blue 
Did she cast to her loved ones there 
Who waited and prayed for her care 
The Day was the twelfth of July 
The hours ticked endlessly by 
Many friends and family too 
People I never knew 
Came to say their farewells 
To a sister who with Jesus now sails 
On a peaceful and gentle tide 
To ever abide at his side 
As the service came to a close 
And the time was as everyone knows 
To cover her body with earth 
Though her spirit had now a new birth 
From out of the crowd stepped a child 
Who's heart like her grandmother's  was mild 
She picked up a shovel and prayed 
As everyone stood there dismayed 
Some tried to keep her from her task 
She looked to her Grandpa with eyes that ask 
He said to those who had tried 
To stop this child at the side 
Of her grandmother's still open grave 
With shovel in hand and heart so brave 
Let her be was his reply 
She's strong enough I won't deny 
She then began her chosen task 
Permitted to do what her heart had ask 
Shovel by shovel and tear by tear 
Her respect paid true to a lady so dear 
At the tender young age of only ten
This little girl whose life has been 
Directed and sculpted by the events of that day 
And by the grandmother who taught her to pray 
Just ten precious years she shared with her here 
But forever in her heart her grandmother is near 
I am the mother of this brave little child 
And never has any heart been so mild 
The day was the twelfth of July 
And to my Mother I said good bye 
A new strength was shown to me that day 
In the child I had birthed and taught to play 
Grandmother's shoes are not easy to fill 
But with a heart of gold and the strength and will 
She to this day has been my best friend 
In absence of Mother my rock to the end 
Now twelve years later a woman full grown 
No longer here with me, elsewhere on her own 
No matter the distance in miles or in time 
She still fills the shoes of that Mother so fine 
And knowing her task will never be done 
She looks to the Heaven's, The Father, The Son 
But also she looks for a glimpse now and then 
From the Grandmother she knows will hold her again

Details | I do not know? | |

I Miss You

Grandmother I miss you, the cool times we had,
The memories that I still have are making me so sad.
It's all good though because I know that you're in a better place,
The one that I'm in now is filled with so much hate.
Wars over religion, grandmother I wish I was with you
and wisper slowly in your ear I miss you.

Details | Bio | |


A cup of coffee here, a newspaper there.
A routine you shared with few.
Your smile, your laughter, and that gentle touch
that said you truly care.
Treasured moments, no other can compare.
A true gem in the rough, always know a piece
of you will live on with me. 
For you see you were more than a friend to me.
A grandmother sent for me.
A true gift from above.
Treasured always you will be.

Details | Free verse | |

For Molly Powell

I  see you South Carolina’s  motherless child….
The chains of slavery set you free…
You are my history book and the link to my pit less soul…
Love began with you Mississippi midwife…..

Smells of Sage and Catnip, fried green tomatoes and pot liquor…
Your veiny swollen hand healed the sick and brought in new life….
Missy Anne played for your time without a lamenting thought your sister you chose ….
With loving respect I see you gazing back at me on Murdear’s bedroom wall…
Your picture yellow and cracked yet fresh with the dawn….

As your soft brown eyes and pomaded hair blew your aura into the busy confusion 
of my present…
I wish for you….
I long for you…though you have transcended poverty, inadequacies, and time…
You are the balm of ancestral roots…
My darkest love is your eternal strength…
Your great gift of strength challenged me to be….  

Details | Rhyme | |

Death Is Nothing: The True Story Of Nat Turner - Part 1

The original version of this piece is too long for me 
to post in its entirety, so it had to be sectioned off. Of 
all that I've written, I am most proud of this work due 
to its historical accuracy. I hope you enjoy it as well. It 
was an honor to write this.

Lying in this shallow ditch I hear as they arrive, the 
miracle of God is all that's keeping me alive,

and it is that belief in God to which each day I strive, 
surprised at this much faith? Just simply gaze into 
my life.

Was born in 1800, month October 2nd day, and knee 
high to a hopper when my daddy ran away,

before you climb your soapbox and begin to think 
that way, remember these are times when all the 
black folk here are slaves.

Imagine being sold like stock, to work when cold or 
hot, the overseers beatin people if they're old or not,

do not defy the owner, best believe you will be sick, 
of getting 10 to 20 lashes from the master's whip.

My last name wasn't given at my birth and that's a 
fact, my given name's Nathaniel but they choose to 
call me Nat,

the surname of my owner Samuel is what I claim, 
you put it all together yes, Nat Turner is my name.

I think about Old Bridget, that's my grandmother you 
know, they snatched her out of Ghana, brought her 
here to freezing cold,

she ran the Coromantee who were known for slave 
revolts, she watched the seeds get planted in me 
grow and take a hold.

I thought myself the lucky one for I could read and 
write, it brought me to The Bible and I learned to 
read it right,

then spent my childhood years admidst the Spirit up 
above, it fit my needy soul just like a mitten or a glove.

I ran away at first when I was only 22, I should've 
stayed away because I really wanted to,

but 1 month later, picture this it's me a black man 
free, a vision told me that I should go back and that 
was key.

The visions I receive I know are messages from 
God, Old Bridget had religion shining deep within my 

I will inform the brethren and won't stop until they're 
saved, The Prophet is the name that I was called by 
fellow slaves.

As 6 years pass of this I know it never is too late, the 
hands of the Almighty have me primed for 
something great,

I carry heavy shoulders for a man of 28, until I 
worked the master's field one faithful day in May........

To Be Continued 

Details | Free verse | |


You weren't my Grandmother by blood,

but you sure were in my heart!

You were so very special to me!

I loved you right from the start!

You always treated me like family,

even though I wasn't your own!

Whenever I was around you,

you would lift me up!

Whenever I was lonely,

you would make me feel at home!

The Lord came back for you today!

He carried you On High!

He gave you a brand new body!

He took you to our Father in the sky!

I know you're dancing for The Lord,

and His Perfect and Beautiful Face you will forever see,

and if you could be talking to me right now,

you would say;



Details | I do not know? | |

My Quilt

My Quilt--far more than just cloth.
No simple construction of yarns or fibers ;
Still, just material pieces, cut from beautiful fabrics.
But, delicately hand stitched.
Intricately woven with love.
Patiently she took her time ;
With me, kept in mind.
Her lovely patchwork design.
Not luxury, but the softest texture.
And the quality of her structure--superb.
My GrandMother's superior perfection ;
Done with loving affection.

A true work of art--from her heart.
So cozy on chilly nights--
She knew just how -to-do them right.
My Quilt--My Grandma made for me...
In my thoughts, I hold her tight.
The One I cherished, so dear...
She's near, as I pray each night.
My Quilt...for years has comforted me.
At the end of my bed--always displayed.
Over time has become a little frayed.
It still brings me to tears, when I see--
My Quilt...
That my GrandMother made--
Just for me.

Details | Rhyme | |



i did not fathom ever loving someone so much
newborn child of mine
newborn child
what to do with you 
will i be strong enough to be what you need
i cried nine times more than she 
then it dawned on me

she is MY child and it ain't rocket science
she is MY child and it that hard to please her needs
nine times i laughed over my tears 
nine times i jumped for joy when she learned something new
she is nine years old and i am just in shock
endless smiles when i hear her sarcastic wit
her sassy wardrobe that i only encourage her to partake with

her social skills are nine times stronger than her peers
she is wiser than her years
she is blessed with her grandmother and her great grandmother 
who love her so 
she is loved nine times more than she knows
she is loved nine times more everyday
she is outspoken she acts shy
she loves to dance
can't imagine why

newborn nine years ago
love her nine times more ... she just don't know

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

brown just like me

it sure ain't the south but it sure was hot all the children danced in middle of the street just cooling off
in the water hydrants sirens could be heard miles away the streets were
all blocked off as civil rights leaders
waved flags of freedom while protestors shouted no blacks allowed thee empty logos read colored only others announced white only my grandmother was Irish my grandfather African American I was brown i felt distant
and rather bored with only one 
crayon to color my famous drawing 
on this very hot day i'd finally completed my famous masterpiece
a sheer work of art and what a
sight to see that all of the
faces were brown just like me suddenly my grandmother sighed it sure ain't the south but it sure is hot

Details | Pastoral | |

Bird Songs

I wake to the songs of the birds
I hear them calling my name
I know their comings and their goings
Just as they know mine.

I have woken to the songs of the birds
They know me as I know them.
Season after season
My age has kept the count.

Generational eternity
The going's on of time...
I know these birds
Just as my grandmother before me knew hers

And hers before her knew theirs
And so on, and so forth
Ongoing forever
Forever and ever throughout time.

Repeating, always repeating
Just as a repeating decimal would
Always and forever repeating
with no ending ever in sight.


(January 22, 2011  Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved

Details | Pantoum | |

The Train-Zoom!

The Train…Zoom!

As the memory drifts in again 
Capturing the richness of love.
Reminiscence my heart did win.
Visits with grandmother, beloved.

Capturing the richness of love.
We, arm in arm, adventure bound.
Visits with grandmother, beloved.
Two on a train ride to a nearby town.

We, arm in arm, adventure bound.
The day trip grandmother had planned.
Two on a train ride to a nearby town.
The picnic basket was in her hand.

The day trip grandmother had planned.
She and I together, enjoyed the park.
The picnic basket was in her hand.
We stayed and played ‘til almost dark

She and I together, enjoyed the park.
It was the first train ride we two shared. 
We stayed and played ‘til almost dark
It was special; I knew she cared.

It was the first train ride we two shared. 
On the way back, we had our own room.
It was special; I knew she cared.
Lullabies, whistles, and sounds from the train…zoom!

It was the first train ride we two shared. 
Reminiscence my heart did win.
It was special; I knew she cared.
As the memory drifts in again 

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 24, 2010

Dedicated to one of my two wonderful grandmothers... They both live on in my heart.

Details | Rhyme | |


The night she was born, her father died
When his car was struck by a train
Trying to get home to his laboring bride
But this news would drive her insane

Her thirteenth birthday, again, she's alone
It was Friday, the thirteenth day
Alzheimer's held her grandmother captive
And her grandfather would pass away

People would whisper she brought bad luck
Cursed by the day she was born
The object of their own superstitions
A victim of prejudical scorn

A rabbit's foot couldn't bring her comfort
For when she held it, things would get worse
The four leaf clover would crumble to dust
And seemed to only strenthen the curse

Nineteen-sixty-three her luck would change
When she met the love of her life
But he was killed on his way to the church that day
Before he could make her his wife

She was destined to spend her life all alone
To keep her loved ones from harm
The day she was born would hold her hostage
And forever be known as Charm

Everything she touched would wither and die
'Til the time she was summoned by death
Ninety years old on Friday the thirteenth
Was the day she drew her last breath

Details | Narrative | |


Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage

The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered

Swimming around the ocean deep 
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper

At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty

In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat

A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high

Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through

Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret

No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy

Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin

Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife

(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg.  Then circled and 
grabbed her left leg.  The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into 
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off.  She was only attended by a nurse who 
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do.  She was 20 hours away 
from the nearest doctor.  She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to 
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg.     The story about the shark caught in 
a fisherman's net was really not true.  The grandmother here was a true story.)

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

One more moment ....

I can never describe my loss into grief
You were stolen like a thief would take his jems
You were the jewel I grew with 
You taught me much and now I need you so much
When all was crumbling inside you reached for me 
You knew my spirit you knew me well
My love My friend My everything 
As a young girl I laughed with you 
Your smile I hold dear I miss your tender kiss 
I love still with a unbearable pain thats deeper than deep
Too me I grew knowing you were by myside 
And now I need your loving arms they are not there
Just held inside of me I want to be where you stand now 
To see the light that shines within my grandmothers heart
I want to hide inside your loving mind 
Your smell of sweetest perfume on my cheek 
Your powder on my sleeve and lipstick was never was far
If only I could sit and speak to you just once more
It all seems so far away now but still I crave 
Just to say I love with all my heart and to give you a smile 
Just one more minute is all I needed no I lie just one more life for us to share
I love my grandmother oh yes even though I miss you with so much despair
I promise to be the girl you loved the woman you watched grow 
The mother in me you were proud to share with me 
But I still wish you could be there to make my fears leave ....

I will always miss my grandmother x

Details | Quintain (English) | |

QUOTE ME CHAPTER AND CURSE another production of sweat and dediction by free cee


No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are these douche bags who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostages while holding a gun
But stoned and stupid junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun

I knocked down an old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing inhabited homes the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl

Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one those fun-loving 

What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply 
can’t trust
The ones who think desperation is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and 
dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building to apartment six “B” because I know there are riches in 
apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat an aged man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree

So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And deserve to be robbed because they are un-sympathetic and un-kind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her drawer of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize I could have robbed it and by now it 
would be sold
I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would become readily more rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never actually take a life
    © ….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~  

Details | Free verse | |


we never knew why
what sadness broke her heart
what busy-ness took her anxiety back
leaving her time to be with us,
her hugs warm and long
but in her eyes
deep brown eyes filled with longing sadness
a secret, a happening long ago that still had hold of her heart
her heart

Details | Rhyme | |

Some old memories to recall

There are moments in my life
when I think of my past.
Wish I could bring them back

I remember the time as a child,
when I used to play with my friends;
Our home was a place for fun,
with my siblings doing their share.

When school days come,
I would always have an extra hour,
for my homework and other plans
that comprise my studies at that time.

When summer whizzes by,
more excitement to be with friends;
to play with them and visit other places
make a deal for a wholesome year.

Whenever Christmas comes,
preparations are at hand,
like decorations, singing, and parties all over,
to make our celebrations happier and significant to all.

I still remember how we pray together
with our grandmother in her bedroom
a rosary or other memorized devotions
to lift up to God so many intentions.

With the passage of time,
changes have championed the best;
with Christian values to reflect
and thus incarnate throughout the rest.

Details | Rhyme | |


Florence of Lawrence 
Mother of sense
her learning curve incense
her colorful fence for defence
Progressing up the pyramid with boldness

Details | I do not know? | |

Figured out the answer

I am a writer
I decided the day after
I got my hair

So that's what I do now
Eschew and eschew.  Wow,
Can somebody tell me how
to stay right here in the now

and not be distracted
by bills and high taxes
and grandmother needing her hair done
while grandpa plays golf?

It can piss me off.

But I've familiarity with hardship and strife
methinks where I wanna be I'll need a wife!


Dedicated to Mary Clare

Details | Lyric | |

Another Saints gone home

We just got the news today
she will soon be going away
the doctors done all that they can do
but it's not over for her
she's just going home
she's faught her fight 
Her battles now are through

another saints gone home Hallelujah
another child of God reaches Her heavenly home
another saints gone home Hallelujah
Praise the Lord 
for now at last her victory is won

When the time has come for me to go away
I want my friends and family to see
that its not time to mourn
but to celebrate 
this life I've lived
 I pray they all may sing

another saints gone on hallelujah
another child of God reaches the Heavenly gates
another saints gone home hallelujah
Praise the Lord
Some day we'll see her in the heavely home.

By Treasa Jarvis 
Dedicated to the memory of my grandmother Beulah Campbell who was a great 
inspiration to me..

Details | I do not know? | |

Grandma's old ring

Grandma's old ring

Everyday grandma put on
A diamond ring
With words engraved 
On the back.

I never got a chance to see these words
For they were always hidden.

I built up courage 
To ask my beloved grandmother about this beautiful ring,
Her crystal eyes filled with tears
As a knot tied in my stomach,
"This ring was given to me by your grandfather,
My husband,
Before he was killed in war.
I've kept it for many years as a memory."

She took this jewel off her frail hand
And with a swift motion 
Set it down on a table.

Crying tears of agony
She rest her head 
On my shoulder.

Details | Sonnet | |

World War II

I see them coming from two different worlds,
father was poor but had just finished his tour
in the Navy during WWII. So young and hansom 
his black curly hair slicked, and arm muscles 
bulging under his uniform. My mother her exotic
beauty and always dressed in expensive clothes,
carrying her books down Sunset Boulevard to 
Schwabs for autographs.
Their marriage took two minutes at City Hall
no friends or fanfare. Nine months latter it
was beginning to end in Chicago when my father,
drunk, through my grandmother across the room
and broke her arm. My father stopped drinking
that day but now a dry drunk, never did change
his attitude toward women.         -sonnet

Details | Rhyme | |

Fragments of Design

Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces,
Makes each one of us who we are, and do become,
Each passing moment joins us and then releases.
Each passing human secures a piece and then some.

We are and will be the essence of everyone we meet.
I remember the smell, his words, my grandfather left for me.
I recall the wisdom my grandmother shared non-discreet.
Scents of her baking and cooking Sunday dinner for three,

These and so many more are embedded for natural recall.
Never searched for in your mind, etchings of time gone by,
Fragments of normal design, remembered forever after all.
They may deliver happiness, or create mourning or a sigh.

For every person you meet you take a part of their spirit.
Fragments of their emotions stick with you for at least a while.
Along with they acquire fragments from your little tidbit.
These fragments that we apportion make life so versatile.

written by
Cecil Hickman

Date written: 06-22-2011

written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~  
Contest Name All The Little Pieces 

Details | Narrative | |


There is a man that no one likes
He's been standing out in front of my house for several days now
I wish that he would go away
My grandmother has become very sick
My nerves are shot and the man outside does not help
One night i woke up to a shrilling breeze that left me the chills
When I went back to bed I noticed a bottle of pills on my night stand
With night covering me with its silk blanket I paid them no mind
The next morning the mysterious man was gone
Grandma! Grandma!

Details | Free verse | |

Mi Abuelita <---> ( My Grandmother)

I see your smile within my mother
I hear your laughter in my own 
I miss you every waking moment
The first granmother I had
And the first grandmother that died
I love you Francisca but I never got to tell you that
I know you look down on me from Heaven because that is your new home
I hope I can be some one that you will be proud of
I love you very much for the beautiful person on the inside and outside that u were
I know our family struggled but you were always there to help us
My mother misses you so dearly but she lives in your wonderful memory
Mi Abuelita you are my true grandmother
You loved my brothers and I before you knew us and you still do
So this is for you my Grandmother you who smile down at us each and every day
I apoligize for the wrong my aunts and grandpa did you but they were so confused
I love you forever and always Mi Abuelit en el Cielo ( My grandmother up in Heaven)
One day we will be together again you and our family.....

Details | I do not know? | |

Still at This Time---Mystery

As I went to my sons school
I entered into to go speak 
with one of his teachers 
as I had checked in
and went along the hall
to where my son teacher was
as I done so....

As a woman appoached me
then she spoke and told me to stop... 
Stop right there... 
Startled me...
As I stopped I turned around
Then she said... Young lady 
Where are you to be???
You are skipping Class...
You need to come with me...
Right Now!!!

I smiled and then said...
I am sorry but you have mistaken me
I am actually a parent 
I am here to see my son and his teacher

She then looked at me...
and said... as laughing in the air..
she said... that is a good one..
Now... Come with me..
I am taking you to the Principles office

I thought and then said..
oh... no your not...
Then she said... Oh...Yes I am..
then she called on her radio..
then some others.. men came
Then she said... 
Please Escort this young woman to Principles office

I could not believe my eyes...
I then pulled out my ID...
But she said... She still didn't believe me...
For tis I must have made the ID
Very Tricky...

So we all went to the Principles office
There I had a Very hard time
Proving I was not a Teen...
I had to get my son out of Class
to verify who I was...
As well again displaying my ID..

I can not believe...
as Still in this time
is the same... 
I no longer go to my sons school
Unless I have an apt.... 

As many say... I look so young..
I not know why... 
my looks have not changed
but I myself... am grown
I am not that old 
But nor am I that young

As I always must explain...
I am not a Teenager...
I am an adult
I am a mother
I am maybe what tis be
a young grandmother 
I am a Woman... of Christ...

God has His Reasons
Why... I still be looking young
As many state a Teenager... 
Even in the Schools 
of my daughters and son

As many of my friends 
ask me... what tis my secret
how do I stay looking so young
Tis is crazy... for tis 
as I say... a mystery

But tis I must say... tis quite embarressing
for me and my children..

As God's Wills so shall be
but tis a True mystery to me....
For way I see.. tis be
As With God... is the Fountian of Youth

Come to Jesus...
For With God.. All things are possible

Details | Free verse | |

Lady Familiar

Metaphors dance in my mind
and there's a word I'm hoping 
to find, a line familiar as
"I want you to be mine."
Relying on the fact that
poetry hasn't failed me yet
I hope you approve the way
God chose Moses's mouthpiece 
and includes all thou's, 
ye's, I's and me's
I want you to possess me
the way a forty-niner
would  gold.
Blaze a trail through
Oregon greenery and 
I'll follow you like
 Rockefeller wealth
and hereditary genomes 
wearing Nike shoes
till two becomes unified 
I promise to pursue you.

I pictured sunflowers and 
spilled rutabagas on grandma's 
corner peeled linoleum. 
She wore a halo and 
shooed away storms
Her hello sounded like hallelujah
and hummed Blessed Assurance
as her dentures soaked
in baking soda.

You're reminding me of 
the women of my youth
The qualities of a praying woman 
has been man's best protection 
The metaphor, word, and
 line familiar found:
 "He hasn't failed me yet,"
I can hear her saying.
I picture you praying.

Details | I do not know? | |

To my lovely late grandmother

As day fall and night came, we used to gather around my grand mother. That was our 
favourite moment during the day. There was a sort of connection between us, the night and 
my grandmother. There was something magical at that precise moment. My grandmother 
was a very good story teller,she was so talented that sometimes it seemed like she took part 
in the stories she used to deliver us. Those stories were full of meaning and through them, 
she was giving us some life’s lessons that were going to help us later on. That was her way 
to impregnate us to our culture and roots.
Our African realities and environment were well depicted in those stories. My grandmother 
was teaching us some of our African values such as the value of a word, the bravour of man 
or the respect that a child owe to an elder person. That is only when I grew up that I felt the 
effects of those storytelling on my person. The most surprising thing is that I have almost all 
those stories in mind and whenever I remember them, my heart becomes full of sadness 
because I know that those moments happen only once in a lifetime. The stories were 
sometimes funny, sometimes terrifying but we all loved them. We were thrown into a 
magical world where animals, just as human beings, were able to speak. There was no limit 
to our imagination. It was just like boarding on an airplane for a world tour. We never got 
enough of them; we just sat down like stuck to the mat and we looked like statues; the only 
thing that could make her stop was to see us sleeping; and even at that moment, she could 
shift from a story teller to a singer of lullaby. During holidays, I used to spend some days 
with her and she used to take care of me even though she was sick. She was a very good 
cooker too. She taught us many delicious meals. I can’t end this account without talking 
about her beauty. Yes she was very beautiful and elegant. Without much pretension I may 
say that she was the definition of black beauty. And to quote India Arie I can say that, every 
time I saw her brown skin “it made me think of honey or chocolate”. “Her kisses worth more 
than gold to me, her hugs worth more than diamond to me” because her arms were my cosy 
nest; her teeth were as white as an angel’s wings, and with her doe eyes, she was able to 
brighten up everything that stand around her. As a child, every coin she used to give me 
was like a billion dollar and everything I bought from that money was like a treasure found 
in the deepest of the sea.

Details | Lyric | |

Old Wise-Tales

Somedays I think back to my 
Grandmother, my mother,
My daddy and all the things 
I so many times heard them say.

I can recall them as tho I heard them
Again on yestersday.
They were always telling us children
Things to do to help us become
Matured adults.

They tried to keep us healthier
So we would live as long as we should
I remember so often
My grandmother saying
Keep heat in your body
And don't get chilled.
Put something around your neck
And something on your head.

I remember daddy warming our shoes
In frount of the big gas heater
As we got ready for school.

He knew our feet would get cold on the bus
For there wasn't heat to accommodate us back then
And the warmth would remain in our shoes
As least part of the way to the school.
Mother would always correct us
For she was that kind
Daddy would tell her 
Keep those girls in line.

We had meals together
That was the house rule
You ate at the table
Like your were suppose to do.

You didn't back talk
And carry a rude nature
Or you had a sore spot
Right where mother placed it.

Oh if only I could go back then
And just enjoy the whole thing 
All over again.

Tho tempting it would be
I wouldn't want to stay there 
For I have to tell these wise-tales
To my son's children.
They will have to know them
So they can tell them 
To their children's children.

Details | Free verse | |

Out of Water

It was just another story, my grandmother told
I wish I had known, what I've learned since then
How the dust from the hills swept over the plains
and how months without rain, would change everything.

Out of water, had been no worry
Until it changed their life, back then, 
It was how she met the man
It is partly her own story
It is part of who I am

I can see it all so clearly, 
How they paid a price, so dearly,
She was Kansas born and bred,
They had built a life securely
staking everything they owned
on a home, on a life, in the loam.

Short of water, was the motto
It had changed her life, back then, 
It was how she met her man
It is part of her old memories
It is part of who I am

On the homestead, growing barley, 
growing wheat, and corn, and kids
Sharing love she had for family
but the drought had come instead.
No water for their crops, no feed to fill the stock
The hardship and the illness
And drought upon the hills
No coin the pay the bills.....meager water in the pail

Quivering trees, and stiff shocks of corn
Withering slowly, from the winds
Sandstorms covered scores
of farmland till the end
Her husband growing ill
A grave dug in the sand
Out west, another land
No man to hold her hand
In the west they found the water
It had changed her life, back then, 
It was how she met her man
It is partly her own story
It is part of who I am

"Out of Water" Contest: Sponsored By Sheri Fresonke Harper

Details | Free verse | |

Ode to Audrey

Glamorous, fun and full of life
Always an interesting and loyal wife
Around the village she is known
For living life in her own particular tone

For her family she does prepare
Many a feast beyond compare
For the animals so oft alone
She has given much love, shelter and even her home

Come Christmas time the house is all a glitter
As Audrey runs around doing the annual jitter
Smiling from within is this special being
Generous, giving and all seeing
Her energy would seem to overflow
Never one to leave others low
This is my grandmother The Great Grandy
Whose life runs circles around those less than 80!

To my life you have brought
Something which can never be taught
You gave yourself, you made me smile
As I saw you go the extra mile
Within my thoughts I hold you dear
And in that way you are always near
I close my eyes and picture your face
And know that time cannot displace
The essence of the inner you
That in my life now follows through

Thank you for always being such a dear
Your effect on my life is more than clear

Details | Rhyme | |


The night she was born, her father died
When his car was struck by a train
Trying to get home to his laboring bride
But this news would drive her insane

Her thirteenth birthday, again, she's alone
It was Friday, the thirteenth day
Alzheimer's held her grandmother captive
And her grandfather would pass away

People would whisper she brought bad luck
Cursed by the day she was born
The object of their own superstitions
A victim of prejudical scorn

A rabbit's foot couldn't bring her comfort
For when she held it, things would get worse
The four leaf clover would crumble to dust
And seemed to only strenthen the curse

Nineteen-sixty-three her luck would change
When she met the love of her life
But he was killed on his way to the church
Before he could make her his wife

She was destined to spend her life all alone
To keep her loved ones from harm
The day she was born would hold her hostage
For she had no good luck charm

Everything she touched would wither and die
Til the time she was summoned by death
Ninety years old on Friday the thirteenth
Was the day she drew her last breath

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's Kitchen

The kitchen, on the weekend mornings
When company came for a visit,
Habitually simmered like a cauldron of furious activity.  
Despite a balmy morning on a September day,
The temperature rising by the moment
My  grandmother would stand,
Red faced at her kitchen table
Rubbing flour and butter briskly
Through her fingers into a large mixing bowl
Apples already peeled and sliced would lay
Like pale green petals in the pie plate,
Waiting for the crumbled topping.
She may have fallen asleep the evening before
In her big, fat, over-stuffed chair
Long before her house guests had even
Stifled a lazy yawn
But on this bright, sunny morning
She was as young as a new bride.

Details | Rhyme | |

Lost and Found

You listened, you shared and you guided me.
You told me of what times would come to be.

I had to weather it, there was no shelter for me.
You held my eyes open so I could see.

And you were always there, no matter the wrong.
But the day came quick that you were gone.

You left the same way that we all must go.
A place uncertain that no one can fully know.

I imagine you in a shimmering place.
I still see the last smile upon your lovely face.

Sometimes I can't hold the tears back in the night.
But I've tried real hard to heal myself right.

I won't do the injustice to remember with dispair.
Instead I will let linger the warm feeling of your care.

I often gaze at a white swirling cloud.
I tell myself true, I must make you proud.

And so in your story I will not let erase.
I feel glimpses of your presence, there is a small trace.

There are so many things in this life that I fear.
And GOD knows I miss you my grandmother dear.

Yet together in a way our hearts remain bound.
For the gift you have left me I finally found.

***in memory of Leola Richardson  1925-2008 *****

Details | Bio | |


The muslims say assalaam alaikum
The jews say shalom
But there isn't any peace in the home
My grandmother just called the police on the neighbors across the street cause 
they don't get along
She thinks they are selling that "cane"
And since they moved in, the neighborhood hasn't been the same
When you angry with life you need someone to blame
And when you hurt in life you want anesthesia for the pain
When bad days turn to months and then turn to years
Sometimes you are crying inside and no body sees the tears
So much is going on people don't see
But beyond that I got something I to teach 
About whatever you sow "that" you will truly reap
Now I know I ain't talkin to farmers but I know y'all some people that know about
Like when my boi Matt didn't pay his tithes and his car wouldn't start up
And He had to start catching that marta
He thought he was smarta
But God proved to be smarta
If you play hard with Him 
He'll play harder
And if you got a seed, a little boi or daughter 
Make sure you tell'em you love'em and give'em that water
Man! We need some fathers 
But ain't no body fathering fathers
So we got a generation thats caught up
In retail and tearing the mall up
And little girls growing up looking for ballers
The fertilizer of pop-culture and the hood is mass producing a generation of 
Shoulds and coulds
Should be better, They could be better 
If they would pursue character than that cheddar
But it starts in the home and the home starts in us
If we can't confide in our parents then who can we trust
Train a child,raise a child in the way they should go 
And when they're old they'll be sure not to depart
Because of that seed you placed in they're heart
Plant a seed in your seed
And watch the fruit 
Whatever is placed in them is what they'll produce

Details | Narrative | |

My Memories of Fried Chicken

Memories of my mother and grandmother
 and there fried chicken…

First was my grandmother killing 
the chicken, with a broom stick and bare 
hands (won’t go into details, to gross)…?

As the chicken flopped around the ground
 for awhile bleeding out my grandmother 
would get out the gas burner and prepare 
the boiling water, then the chicken would
 take a nice hot bath, so the feathers
would come out easier…

I watched my grandmother plucking 
its feathers then searing of the pen feathers…

One thing I didn’t like was the smell
 of the wet feathers and the seared pen 
feathers, awful…

After all the prep came out the cast
 iron skillet, Cisco, the floured, salt
 and peppered chicken…

Time seemed so slow when you
 could smell the chicken cooking, but you 
knew dinner wasn’t far off, for by the
 time dad came home from work, washed
 up dinner was on the table…

The deliciously fried chicken, side
 of vegetables and the mashed potatoes 
with pan drippings gravy, 
Oh, soooooooo goooooood.

I am sure making myself hungry…


Details | I do not know? | |

Dreams and Reality

I dreamt that my uncle sat next to my father in a field.
They sat upon a concrete slab. I think a septic tank. 
Their coats beside them and a guinness bottle in the uncle's hand. They had been
saving the hay.My uncle was also looking across the open road and could see a river 
and he was wearing a no sleeved jumper. 'De jar vous'  hit me in real life. 
(I actually saw this complete scene thereafter including guiness bottle in reality).

Another time I dreamt I fell out of our bed and became sandwiched between the bed and
a wardrobe. I struggled with my elbows to raise myself up.Then, I suddenly had a torch in my 
hand and shon it through the pitch black ahead. A torch in the distance switched itself on in mid 
air and shon directly back into the light of my torch.- 
(I then woke up ) !

I heard a story from my Mother who at 10 years of age was saving hay with her mother in 1941.(People in Ireland then lived far a part in terms of walking and all were farming).Both were alone in the huge expanse of the field forking hay. Then in the ditch a cry came out and 
frightened my mother. A whaling type of cry she said. Banshee, who knows!
However, My grandmother clutched her close and immediately said to her 'John Flynn' has died and we better go up to me house. Grandmother knew well a distant od neighbour was ill and had been for days and may die. After a long trek through the fields to the house and after one or two hours a knock came to the door. Another neighbour called and said that indeed this man had died. She never said she got notice of this to the neighbour from the ditch and thanked the caller. 
(How could such a thing be treated in such a matter of fact way by my grandmother)?

Ian Foley

Details | Rhyme | |

Thanksgiving Day

Of all the people in my life that I am thankful to
I know there's not alot but one stands out among the few
If teachers rated people you'd score high among the curve
But since they don't, you never get the credit you deserve
You're known for giving freely, asking nothing in return
Even when no "thank you" comes your way you don't feel spurned
The love you show burns like a light as brilliant as the sun
More reliable than AT&T, It reaches everyone
I'm that sure you are wondering who I am talking about
I'll speak it in a normal voice, Although my heart will shout
The person I want to dedicate this Thanksgiving Day to
Is my Grandmother whom I love so much, and honestly... THANK YOU

Details | I do not know? | |

Me, Myself and I

Dear my best friend,
I am lonely, sad and with no care
I plaster a fake smile, again, but no one even noticed how sad I felt
Love was gone when my grandmother died
Trapped in a house with only windows. 
Outside to were people caring, having the love I want but never obtained
I miss you...
Mother has also told me that 'I am not who I use to be!'
That night I wrote a note and stuck it in the frame of my grandmother.
Though I wrote it, every time i read that note, water leaks from my eyes.
I promised my grandmother I would not cry...
I held tears back for 2 years, but soon broke that promise after mother yelled at me...
How long can I live this horror?
If I kill myself now, then i wont be keeping my promise to myself that I would go to Tokyo
Japan, going into Tokyo college of music. Becoming a singer, actress, or model. If I gave
up now....Then what was my climb to the be at the top and only making 10 steps out of 100
mean nothing?
I hope you can help me...
I need love that only one can give me now, but he loves someone else...
Is that okay? 
To love someone who is already in love with another?
I hope that you can write back to me soon. 
When my grandmother died, she took that once happy and bright girl with her, to help make
herself smile with me with her.

Details | Rhyme | |

To Grandmother's House We Go

To Grandmother’s House We Go

By Elton Camp

To visit grandmother was a child’s delight 
A welcoming hug made everything right
Aroma of fresh-baked cookies filled the air
About the family’s visit, granny did so care

Her comfortable old house, family enjoy
Welcomed each grandchild, girl and boy
She would take up time with each little one
To listen, talk, laugh and enjoy having fun

Such times, sadly, were then and this is now
Changes, such happy days seldom will allow
“Grandmother won’t be home when we arrive.
For she will be working at her job nine to five.”

At her age, jobs from which to choose are few
With what she is able to find, she will make do
“Welcome to Wal-Mart,” she says at the door
An old, tired lady can actually do but little more

It isn’t that she really wants to or that’s she able
It’s the only way she can keep food on the table
It is necessary because her husband passed away
And her income’s too small the many bills to pay

And the old homestead she wasn’t able to keep
But moved to the project where costs aren’t steep
She gets home, her feet hurt and back does ache,
It breaks her old heart not to be able to offer cake

Details | Couplet | |


Loyal to her husband, church and kids
How can I start to explain all that she did?
I speak these words because they are true
Grandma never did less than she could possibly do
Just like our body is but a shell for our bones
A house is just a building it was grandma made it home
My life started with a terrible fate
Thanks to my grandmother my childhood was great
These days I can't help but look back through the years
As I do I can't help but shed an ocean of tears
Because all I was taught I cast aside
See addiction took me for a hell of a ride
But through all of the heartache and all of the tears
All of the miles and all of the years
I remember brushing her hair and rolling it into a bun
How she played the big bad wolf because I thought it was fun
Helping roll her quilts or thread her needle
Work her fingers to the bone until she was feeble
How she stood by me through thick or thin
As I disappointed her again and again
How she always bragged that I was so smart
And never let me doubt I was all of her heart
Through all of the bad and evil I've done
I remembered what she taught me and turned to Gods son
In prison I did the strangest thing one day
Through the love of my grandmother I knelt and I prayed
The things that she taught me have all turned out to be true
Jesus was born to forgive us for all that we do
I have no doubt up in heaven she is bragging on me
Saying, “Just look at the man my boy turned out to be”

Details | Free verse | |

This crooked family tree

As I stand here gazing  upon
A row of trees nearing their demise
My mind is overcome by a barrage 
Of paralyzing truths
That have contaminated my spirit
Like a river transposing itself
Into an infested swamp
Nonetheless, the sight before me
Whispers to my imagination

This family tree is crooked: 
What compels ones sister 
To seduce another sisters husband? 
Just yesterday they were sharing
Clothes and make-up
Today, they share the same lover

The tree has become withered: 
Susie flees from home again
While Uncle Jake is far too under
The chains of influence to notice
I thought children came first
Then alcohol was second

That tree has shaded  to grey: 
Tony searches for drug money
While Aunt Sara is on the prowel
For a new husband at 
The corner tavern again
However, I did not realize
 New uncles were so easy to find

The branches are twisted: 
Mommy never kissed Santa Claus
On Christmas eve night, 
Instead, Aunt Sharon was kissing 
Her husbands brother under the mistletoe
After everyone went to sleep
Or so they thought, 
An old song takes on a new meaning

All the leaves have fallen: 
Great grandmother loved reciting
Stories of the family history
It is now that I understand why, 
She left some tales untold

So I wonder, 
Who planted these trees?

Details | Free verse | |


my uncle was married
before he met her
sure it was to his first cousin

My brother was trying to help her
she cried for days about being raped

My grandmother gave her a job
and a place to stay

Friends with benefits
to my uncle and brother
family upset
not realising she is a con artist

My brother and Uncle
kindling a family feud
over a woman who conned my grandma
my brother and then my uncle

I live in the same building as her
after my brother lost his head
and i don't blame him
evicted from a whole village
leaving me stuck here, trapped

she walks into a room
the men bend over backwards
I try to tell her to stop wasting men's time
for their money
lieing about love is a dangerous game
men get upset when they have been conned through sex
when they could have spent that time
with someone genuine

The village in unrest
busy trying to justify her for being the victom she claims to be
In this situation at no fault of my own
I just sit here and wait for her to make the same mistakes
so it will be clear to them what the truth is when i tell them all

she conned my grandma
lied about love to my brother
split up my aunt and uncle
and now shes in a position of power over what people here think of me

Not for long though
the truth will rise
They will all know soon
the black and white of her inbetween the lines
She is babylon to me
a headless beast with breasts

apparently no oone thinks of the situation through my eyes
just easier to use babylon for sex

Details | Free verse | |

Screamin' MiMi

your grandmother died
a few years back
the mean old witch
left you with a 'lil chunk of change
& lots of strings attached
you sista been "walking" dead for 
what, like, 5 years now
Mom's are queen of denial
just like us all 
maybe lessen the pain 
not face what's in your face
and the beat goes on 
the sadness in each of us
could fill every single void
so you say your family died
not true for all involved
you live you give you thrive 
we are here now 
closest ones around
not into competition
just want everyone to win
share the constant load
just don't break the dream
by going off to parts unknown
H/A/W got what it takes
to make it worth a fight
don't take away the boy's joy 
life ain't perfect but it's real 
please see us over here, still the same 
you are always our girl
come back and share our world
this is a good as it gets 
wield your power to our favor
please please dear dear 
sweet beautiful child
Peace and love to you!

Details | Quatrain | |



No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are bastards who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostage while holding a gun
But stoned cold junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun

I knocked down and old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing an inhabited home the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl

Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn back around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one of those fun-loving fools 

What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply can’t trust
The ones who think havoc is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building to an apartment because I know there are riches in apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat a man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree

So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And you all deserve to be robbed because you’re rich and undoubtedly unkind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her closet of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize you’re missing things that I’ve sold
I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would be rotten and rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never really take a life
           ©  2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~  

Details | Free verse | |

I hear the world is going to end is it true?

I hear the world is going to end is it true?
Earthquakes, poverty, and wars are going to govern the world
Is it already happening?
Throw and burn all lucrative materialistic goals and put God in first place
Will he really bless me?
If I start to  adore you 
Will I be doing it the right way?
Oh lord oh lord my grandmother heard these very same words
And to you she gave her soul 
Still, the world hasn’t ended yet
Then when will it come?
I hear the world is going end is it true?

Details | I do not know? | |


Girl, Young Lady, Wife, Mother, Grandmother and such
Soft, strong and oh so long, tender to the touch
Rocking cradle, Rocking Chair as a lullaby is hummed 
While knitting some stockings, the needle sticks her thumb
“Hush, little baby, the time will soon come
When you too, will be blessed with a little one
Let me tell you a story of a little child
Raised on honey and berries that were in the wild
As he grew older and became a man
He lived in the wilderness and ate from the land
Time came when this young man was called to perform
As he gathered the sheep before the storm
Asked by others, “Are you The One 
That we should seek who comes from the sun?”
“Nay, said the man,” with a slight grin on his face
I am just a steward  called to set up HIS PLACE”
“To whom shall we seek?” the people said
Is it Elisha, the prophet, come back from the dead?”
“Nay!“ again he said, with a stern look on his face
“Of HIM who will come, no one is greater on this earth or from any place
Of HIM whose  latchets, you nor I are worthy to lace
Come to the river, where we shall be cleansed 
With a splash of the water…Come closer, my friend…..
Ever so gently, she lays down the book
To peek at her Précis…Just a second look
So peaceful, serene and with such beauty and charm
Another child, at rest in  Grandmother’s Arms

Details | Light Poetry | |


Been looking for love
And I know it’s very near  
But every time I find it
It always seems to disappear

Maybe I don’t know what
It is really I’m searching for
What if I had it already?
And let it walk out the door

I feel so lost in this world
With a monkey on my back
Finding some one to love
Is like a needle in a haystack

Though I found some one
But I was so wrong about that
She made it crystal clear 
When she hit me slap

So I said ok no problem
Just another notch on my knife
Another pair of high heels 
Stepping all over my life

Went down the road too far
And I can’t make my way back
 Just left wondering lost
 Like a needle in a haystack

Why do we hurt our self? 
For those who are not worth it
If my grandmother was alive
 Would say stop being so stupid

My Grandmother was very smart
It’s like she can see the future
If she says that girl is trouble
Bet your dollar it ends in disaster

So from today I’m done
 Stop looking for love completely
If a girl wants to give me her love
She has to come to me

We know it’s not going to happen
So why give my self a heart attack
When it’s clear for me to see
I’m just like needle in a haystack

Details | I do not know? | |


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Details | Free verse | |


 I didn’t know what had happened.
Suddenly my world was turned upside- down.
One day he was fine.
The next day he was sick, very sick.
The day after he was lying helpless in a white hospital gown on a bed not his 
and he seemed to be getting stronger.
The day after that he was gone.
He used walk around the house high.
Smiling and laughing like some demented fool.
Once he knocked my mother’s favorite crystal glass off the dining room table and 
all he did was laugh,
laugh right in her face.
But of course he had complete control.
He could stop whenever he wanted to.
They just made him feel good; they weren’t addictive like that other stuff.
Each time my mother, or aunt, or grandmother confronted him about it,
this was his response.
But soon he needed more.
He slowly but surely progressed from a puff to a snort to a
needle in the arm.
Until one day he was addicted,
completely and totally dependent.
The days when he leapt out of bed on Saturday to play basketball with my 
brothers were gone.
He simply lay there in the hospital bed,
hopeless and scared. We were all scared.
As I sat my his side with my Mama I remembered the last time I saw him outside 
of that white hospital gown—
at a family barbeque my mama invited the whole family to.
The sun was shining brightly and I was sweating pretty heavily but as I looked 
over at my uncle I saw he kept shivering, violently.
I wanted to talk to him real bad 
and no one else seemed to notice how lonely he was,
so as frightened as I was by this strange shivering I went over to him.
He spoke kindly to me but most of the time he just kept scratching himself a lot, 
and rocking back and forth in his chair, muttering to himself,
like he didn’t even know I was there.
It was just days later that he passed.
Mama said he was out of his misery now,
in a better place,
and that God would give him a second chance.
I resolved never to walk that path.
Idiots around me say I will become curious,
that it doesn’t hurt to give something a try.
My uncle was curious too.
I love him but I cannot be like him.
Curiosity has its limits.

Details | Narrative | |

The Examples We Set!

The Examples We Set!

“Grandma”, the young boy spoke.
His face was serious.
He was telling no joke.
Grandma was curious.
“What is it, my grandson?”
He points to one finger.
“See that finger Grandma.”
Yes.” She replied looking.
“That’s a bad finger…bad!”
He exclaimed pointing to
His little middle finger,
Continuing he said,
“When I grow up I am
Going to use that finger.
“That wouldn’t be very nice.”
His grandmother remarked.
“You are too nice to use
That finger…”
“Well, he continued,
“My dad uses it and
I’m going use it too,
When I grow up.”

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
March 19, 2010
Poetic form:  Free Verse

Details | I do not know? | |

Letter To Dad (Part II)

You stayed gone for so long, 
 you missed it all. You didn't even know number three. 
He would come after you flee. 

We were forced to move ahead, 
 not much time to remember. Growing up instead. 

Late at night when it was quiet, 
 and all was in bed. I would wonder where you were. 
(Did you even think of us?)

When I was twelve maybe thirteen, 
 I got this notion in my head 
 that I would look for you.
Someone I remember had said 
 you moved back to Oklahoma. 
So, I started there. 
We had gone on a trip,
 my first look was in the phone book.

I continued,  for some time. I scavanged through all mom's things
 for evidence of you. Some small token that would lead me to where you were.
I gave up not long there after. 

I wouldn't try again until I was seventeen. Now it seemed I was wiser, 
I asked for assistance.  My grandmother was the sleuth,
 she uncovered the truth. 

You arrived as did I, 
 we didn't know the other would be there.
I didn't even get out of the car,
 the door wasn't even ajar. 
Even now after all is done the choice was yours although I had begun.
When to see you should've been mine, but that decision you took this time.

After that weekend without seeing you I opted to call. 
We spoke a while, mostly chit chat. Nothing was said  about why you left as you 
For a moment though it was just as it should be,
 a daughter talking to her father. It was nice. 
You wrote soon after, 
 the words you penned weren't what I was after,
 it was a disaster. I struck the match and burned your words. 
I forgot and moved away faster. 

Details | Free verse | |

Step inside my head

The instructor said:
Right a poem expressing yourself
using Langston Hughes’ first poem 
as your model.

When my mom had me it was just me and her. 
We went through hard times yet she never let our 
problems effect me. Now that I have grown up
I see things differently. I can understand when there is 
a problem and know when things aren’t right.

Now I’m just looking for my chance to shine. I am preparing
to see the world through my own eyes. And it is hard. But I 
get through. Most kids my age are academically preparing themself 
for their future. They go to school and they learn but me I am creating 
mine.  My voice is my instrument and as long as I have it I plan to use it. 
My passion is singing and my heart is in performing but my money always
gets spent on shopping.

Yes I am a women and I was created to be of a helpmate to my spouse
but that doesn't mean that I am not human. Though I may have breast and
my hips may make the shape of my body different doesn't make you 
suprerior. I have a mind and I am an individual. I can think and 
make decision for myself, all while taking care of all responsibilty. 
I am your mother and your grandmother I was responsible for your up bringing.
Don't belittle me because of my sex!

Details | Free verse | |

Train of Thought

They told me things
That left me on memory's wings
Long ago ...
When I write I show
The white eye of the page
Things that my own heart caged.
The almond like a miser
With its nut, the sun like a fire
Stoking my gut,
The journey that dawn my history
Snatched from unmuddled memory

The child playing alone
Pounding stone on stone
His only friend was solitude
And that shaping of him
Is my sum, span and latitude ...
To break the shell of wooden bone
And move the kernel
From its throne,
To the disgust of the sun
Roasting me
Till I was over done

My brother's hands took me out
And served me to my father's eye
So to grandmother I was en route
But I did not cry
Though things were sailing by
The world moving backwards
Leaving the sky
Cradled on my eye.
My mother's heart was snatched that day
It was my fault to play ...
A child at one needs a protecting eye.

It was my first train ride
And the only train I did not break
It was more than a toy
And too big for the sensibility of a boy.
The thing just swallowed up my pride
But I not quake
For I who defeated the sun
Would let my father see his son
Bravely longing
To return to solitude and fun,
I have watched carefully
My solitude when now I play, ruefully.

Details | I do not know? | |


More than likely i stared into his eyes
but couldn't hear a sound
stared so  deeply into his hands that i could have almost engraved my name.
Wonder what really was this game.
His bold and think eye brows barley moving at all.
the walls are white touching the sky.
Studying my body there seems to be a lot of scares.
The room  slowly bashing out red as I watch and heard him 
walk out
 leaving me on the bed 
Nodding  his head to the lady down stairs.
Going toward the room where my family and friends fled,
My grandmother spiritually praying,
Begging god to let her live another day, at least fro her to say 
Everything touching me is ice cold.
Who am i?
What happened over the past hour or so?
Why are my surroundings so gracefully Bright?
my head feels light
 He tells my grandmother 
"she held up a fight but it was just her time to say goodnight".
 Her eyes screamed then fell out rain.
she went to where the rest of my family and friends
  wondered what had happened?
Is this all a dream?
I yelled out her name  again and again.
 but all five times it just echoed through my brain.
I tried to reach out and touch her hair.
 but I soon found out my hand wasn't really there.

Details | Rhyme | |

Remember When

Remember when I first met you? Remember when we both knew it was true? Remember when we talked all night? Remember when we’d laugh about some stupid fight? Remember when I first told you I loved you? I remember when you first told me you loved me, too Remember when we got stuck so far Because you decided to intentionally break your car? Remember when I was sick and you took care of me? You stayed up all night, and even made me iced-tea Remember all the movie phrases we quoted? Remember all the parts of a car that I noted? Remember when you didn’t believe I’d get dirty? Then I got antifreeze in my hair and I felt really nerdy? Remember when I met your little brother? And I was disappointed that I couldn’t meet your mother? Remember all the secrets we shared? You tried to teach me not to walk away but eventually I would not have even dared Remember when your grandmother made nasty noodles? Remember laughing about all my retarded doodles? Remember playing all the games we made up? Remember when you and I played real rough? Remember me falling asleep numerous times on your chest? Remember when I got sick, you told me to rest? Remember when we slept I held you tight? Remember teaching me how to change a tire that night? Remember the bar we first got together at? Because I can tell you exactly where we sat Remember when you came to my house at midnight to get me? Remember you and I feeling so free? I can go on and name more but here’s just a few And these are all the reasons why I want to marry you

Details | Bio | |

The Mask

The mask that i wear is about not expressing

myslf, i can't do it alone i need some

I can't do this alone I need some help.My grandmother has cancer and goes

through a lot of pain and agony, no longer

can she take care of the family. She moans 

and groans, never does she laugh. I could

see why: who would laugh with pain like 

that. I could see the african americans now 

running to freedom, they weren't slaves 

nobody could keep 'em. Like moses who freed 

over 300 slaves, she stayed in the water 

where she would wade. I can't wear this mask 

any longer, to take it of i must stay 


Details | I do not know? | |

my granny's voice

A spiritually presence came to me here just the other night, 

I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing, Granny that’s you staring at me right? 

Oh how is grandfather, Uncle Michael, and I can’t forget about Eileen? 

I’m standing here in aw because I cannot believe what I’m actually seeing. 

Granny, how can this be that I can see you so open and clear? 

But don’t get me wrong I won’t question a miracle I’m just so delighted that you’re here! 

Granny am I the first you have seen or have you made numerous trips? 

The day you had passed on I had prayed to the Lord and now it looks like he has granted my 

I had prayed the Lord would allow us another day to see one another and to chat, 

Thank you Dear Lord for bringing my beautiful, loving, and caring grandmother back! 

Granny, we’re all hanging in there and that’s something I had wanted you to know, 

And you should see your great granddaughters, Kayla and Jaynisha to see how fast they’ve 

The last I heard from Tischelle and Tishausna they’re both doing good, 

Along with Cherise they’ve both been holding down life like fine young ladies as we all knew 
they could, 

Kevin is also holding up and from his actions I’ve been utterly impress, 

I’ve told him, “mon I’m always here for you if you need someone to talk to if you’re feeling 

Auntie Norma took it hard the day that you and Uncle Michael had passed, 

But at your funerals we were all happy to know that you all were at rest and peace at last! 

And my father is moving into the house which I believe would be on the first, 

This is alittle supernatural Granny, cause my last image is of pulling your coffin out of that 
white hearse. 

Granny, I know you must leave soon but I so badly want you to stay, 

But I know you don’t want us being selfish and wanting things our own way, 

I can see your glow is starting to fade so I guess its time for you to go back to Heaven, 

Can you do me a favor and hail up Tennyson for me, he’s another missed brethren! 

Granny, I won’t say goodbye I rather just say that I’ll see you again soon, 

And you’re always welcome back into my house this here spot could be our special room! 

Again I’m stuck in a predicament on letting you go or keeping you here and I know I got to 
make a choice,
But thank you again Lord for allowing me to hear my Grandma’s voice! 

“A blessing has been bestowed upon me…. Amen” 

Details | Free verse | |


My grandmother gave me this darkness
of eyes and hair. Our ancestors were gypsies
begging, wide skirts, skittish heels
before the doors to cathedrals.

My grandmother gave me this quivering 
chin and sharp nose. Our ancestors were insane.
They emigrated thick satchels over shoulders 
to the madhouse. We strapped them into bed.

My mother gave me this sleeplessness
and these delicate hands. Hers were chapped,
the threads hanging in graceful threads
so long she never began, she never ended.

I gave me this mutiny heart.
With your hands on my hair
and eyes just below my lips, I 
am only aware of the door.

Details | I do not know? | |

My Grandmother

You never caught this person frowning, because the thought of life made her smile. This
person made an impact on my life in many ways, from being a great person and just knowing
she always cared. Life throws obsticals at you, but she always seemed to know how to fix
them to where they didn't get in her way. No matter how much pain she was in, she seemed
to always have that big smile on her face to light up the room. My grandmother will always
be my heart, because she's an amazing person I think everyone should meet. But no one can
have her, because I need my heart to live.

Details | Narrative | |

for lexi

quick witted 
like the child her mother was
i miss that child 
but adore the butterfly she has become
she will be more 
than we all imagine
if we let her be
just as her mother 
and her grandmother and great grandmother were and are
but we come from a line of struggle
of will and wellness
of dreams and wants
of can be and will be
she smiles
and my heart is as full as it can be
she treats me like a playmate
and i wouldn't have it any other way
i love her and her mother
as much as my heart will allow
as much as there is room for
as if they were my own

Details | Rhyme | |

Sweet Siesta

There is one thing so comforting,
so warm and cozy it does bring
a smile or perhaps, a hand clap:
its all about an afternoon nap.

My grandmother and I
in the cool of an afternoon would lie
with tummies full of tomato soup
and listen to Arthur Godfrey's group
while slowly our eyes would droop
and we would snooze for an hour or so
waking refreshed and ready to go.

Many years passed for me
in the work-a-day world would be
no thoughts of naps or rest
at the office pace we did our best.

Then, in time came this old me
and every day along about three
comes a breathless spell that seems to say
upon your bed you'd best now lay.

And so I go and settle the quilt
so cozy and warm my spirit is spilt
back in time to that other day
when grandmother and I would lay.
So now I snuggle way into a sweet trap
and Mister and I take our little nap.

Details | Rhyme | |

What Is A Mother?

Mothers stay up late when
Their kids can’t sleep..
A mother’s affection
Will always run deep.
A mother silently watches
Her child asleep in their bed.
She looks back on her life before she
Was a mother and her soul was dead.
How could she have been so lucky
To get this precious angel?
Knowing that if anyone hurts her baby
They are sure to be mangled.
A mother’s heart swells with pride 
As her baby takes her first step.
When a child says “ I love you Mommy”,"
It was so emotional she wept.
To know that she is a parent 
Is her greatest title.
Hoping that her child will be  
Someone that others will idol.
A mother caresses her child’s 
Face when she has been crying.
A mother comforts her child
When her grandmother is dying.
A mother hopes she’ll be
As great as her own mother.
She hopes she won’t fail
And be like the others.
A mother protects her child when she  
Caught a tennis ball with her face.
And beating her step-son
Was definitely not a waste.
A mother sneaks down a phone when 
Her child is unjustly grounded.  
A mother makes damn sure when her
Husband insults her daughter he is fiercely pounded.
A mother looks over her mom 
Perming her child’s hair late at night.
She pretends she doesn’t see her 
Hiding so there won’t be a fight.
A mother comes to her child’s aid in her
Time of need when her own child is sick.
A mother cries when her father dies at the  
Same time and she is forced to pick.
Does she go home and bury her father?
Or does she stay and comfort her child?
The fact that she’s put in this position
Is nothing short of wild.
A mother lets her child and her best friend
Plus their kids move back home.
Living eight hours away while her grandson  
Is sick, she might as well have lived in Rome.

A mother comes to visit her sick
Grandson after a hard day’s work.
A mother comforts her daughter
When stress and chaos lurks.
A mother loves her children
No matter what the future holds.
Whether it’s life or death or
Runny noses from their colds.
A mother loves her daughter
In spite of all the troubles and tattoos.
A mother loves her daughter 
In spite of their difference in views.
A mother loves her child
No matter what they do.
The feeling is mutual and
Mother, I really do love you.

Details | Lyric | |


she was of gypsy descent 
life's' hard lessons learn t- 

my grandmother warned 
as I was growing up, 

she said only two duties 
a man was concerned of 

getting it up, and shooting 
satisfying themselves their 
primal duty... 

too many unhappy woman 
unfulfilled, restless 

she demonstrated independence 
the importance of emancipation 

if I was not careful, I too could fall 
victim, a mans possession 

"keep a bob in your pocket... 
and stay out of trouble", 

"whatever you do, don't get 

men, they are trouble... 
keep the bone, and the dog 
will follow, 

born with a third eye 
for a woman's' love I sought, 
a man for me seemed defeatist 
...wrong...for me this just wouldn't

armed with this- knowledge 
most women thought?...but got
caught up in this happy ever after
an illusion of sorts... 

with my grandmothers' advice 

I celebrate my wonderful life, 
with the love of a woman 
at my side 

my grandmothers' approve 
throughout the ages 
a woman's' needs overdue 

a woman's' love truth 
no longer masquerader 
falsely paraded 

for a man cannot truly deliver 
a woman's love, true love 

I celebrate graciously... the end of the day
it is a choice...I was tired
a witness to too many
women betrayed...

...I understand all of man
is not like is better
to decide...than a become
another love statistic...

I agree my grandmothers'
advice supersedes...

Details | Couplet | |

A Child Blossomed

A Child Blossomed

I saw in your face a valley of love
Spreading as spiderwort smiling above.

I felt your devotion and saw your grace.
Oh, calming influence amid life’s place.

When sadness came near you wiped away tears.
Freely helping throughout many long years.

The strength of your memory in my heart,
Grants me the courage for each day’s new start.

A child in your hands blossomed in these lands.
Where the mountain slopes meet the oceans sands.

Wherever I go, I know you are near.
Watching from heaven, grandmother dear.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 25, 2010

Poetic form:  Couplets

Details | Free verse | |

how many dead grandmas

how many dead grandmas?

one idiot calls into work saying their grandma died &
the next week that same idiot tells their professor 
that they missed class because their grandmother 
died & the very next week calls into work saying their
other grandma died & a day later tells their prof that their
other grandma died & the classmates & coworkers talk
amongst themselves saying that the same idiot held other
jobs before this one & frequented other classes before 
this one overflowing with dead grandmother galore---
how many dead grandmas can one idiot have?


Details | Free verse | |


				I Go Back…
I see her standing next to a man who would never do her wrong,
I see my grandmother in the green grass
touching an inanimate body, the
blue shirt a reflection of her feelings
always blue because of what her husband has done, I
see her happy now without him near
standing alone waiting for information to solve a
marriage gone wrong, the memories still lingering, back
when love was strong and everyone happy,
she was still young though, she was not bored,
she was in love, she was ignorant, all she knew is that she was
caring, for her children and theirs also.
I want to talk to her and say Careful,
don’t be a fool in love--the kids will feel the consequences,
you fell for the wrong man, together you will do things
that will end your love forever,
that will leave your daughters blue like you,
that their children will never understand,
that will make you want him dead. I want to speak to her
there in the clear summer light and say that,
her ignorant loving face listening to my every word,
her misunderstood caring soul,
her full broken heart never to love again,
her naïve experienced soul,
I will never do it though. I want to experience it all. I
take her in my hand like a helpless
empty scrap and throw her out the window,
by an edge like a simple worn image, as if I
wanted to knock some sense into her, I ask
Do you want you daughters to feel unloved, and their children to ask why?

Details | I do not know? | |

For Claire

Your beauty beams with patent rage
Undiminished and unharmed with age
Like the primrose of the spring 
You are the jewel that sunshine brings

Your kindness is without compare
Unprejudiced and unimpaired 
Like the music of a hymn 
You are the song that angels sing

Your joy inspires the world to smile
And makes the trials of day worthwhile
Like the rain upon the leaves
You are the water all life needs

Your compassion is unlimited
The purest and most noble gift
Like heroes in the books I read
You are the person I want to be

Details | Lyric | |

I believe

I believe in this dawn

I believe in tomorrow...

my failings of a yesterday...

for we all

...who have gone before us...

...we march on in there name...

...for they are with us...their spirit
their love still with us remains spirit wherever we go...

I know my dear grandmother
is with me...wherever this heart

my dear friend I will not lie...
in my verse you can rely...

...our beautiful spirit does not die...
I know this I believe this...for right
before my grandmother died though
miles my heart a message...

from her sent...with love to me she
said goodbye...

Details | Rhyme | |

Visiting the Home Place

Visiting the Home Place

By Elton Camp

I went back to see the old home place this year
For no location on earth is, to me, nearly so dear

My grandfather built the house with his own hands
Despite the passing years, I have heard it still stands

Its grounds he tended and trimmed with loving care
I hope that his shrubbery and flowers are still there

That it wasn’t the finest around I now understand
But in my memory, it was roomy and quite grand

The wide front porch where the family sat at night
The day’s work done, all seemed calm and right

Parlor with stuffed chairs, piano against the wall
How fondly, and with such detail, I recall them all

Baking prizes my grandmother won at the state fair
Now in my house and preserved with greatest care

My mother’s bedroom when she was a child
It’s where she slept, played, read and smiled

Master bedroom where my grandparents slept
All these years, their carved bed I have kept

Then the dining room with its massive table
To seat family and many friends it was able

Its shiny marigold carnival glass bowl
Was by my mother trusted to my control

I protect it on display in my house still
And, if possible, hope that we always will

The country kitchen, of treats a treasure trove
I can vaguely remember a black wood stove

The people I so loved are no longer alive
By my visit, to honor them, I will strive

The once-familiar road I drive with care
Knowing that very soon we will be there

Perhaps the ones who reside there now
Will allow us to tour the house somehow

Then, in the distance, its outline I can see
Coming closer I cry, “This surely cannot be.”

For the place that I once had loved so well
Is now an abandoned, collapsing empty shell

Where are all the flowers and shrubbery gone?
A massive oak, slowing dying, stands alone

The fine old barn where, as a child, I’d play
Has, long ago, fallen into ruin & rotted away

An old adage springs into my mind right then
One now seen true,  “You can’t go home again.”

So I drive slowly on by with the greatest regret
Yet, for the memories, I remain forever in debt

Details | Couplet | |


A million memories fall like crystal raindrops on a summer day
as I make my way along the winding road above the Fundy Bay,
where you wait for me beyond the gate where wild flowers grow.
In an open field as old as time where gentle ocean breezes blow,
once again I am a child resting in the arms of your sweet embrace.
As you erase my tears with your gentle loving kisses on my face,
and the torment and the anguish that have troubled me so long
are finally put to rest in this rightful place that knows no wrong.
For it is now with 3 score beneath my wayward feet I come to realize
that all the roads I travel still lead me to this place my heart resides;
and as I lay the lilacs that you loved while on earth upon your grave,
I bow before you now and thank you for the everlasting love you gave.
In Loving memory of my precious Grandmother ‘Cecelia Evans’

Details | Light Poetry | |



Remember my grand mother
Use to sit in the gallery
And what ever she wanted 
Use to call my brothers or me

She was born deformed
But she never let it get her way
She would be walking with her stick
Going to make her garden everyday

She had the biggest garden
In the whole of ste Madeleine
With tomato, corn, peas, peppers,
Its how many of her days was spend

She would always be doing something
She just could not sit down 
If she’s not with the chickens
 She’s sewing and singing old Hindi songs

Many times we sit around her 
She would tell us many stories
Of fairy tales and legends
Full of so many mysteries

And when there is a wedding
They would come for her on Saturday nights
She would sing with the drums and danthal
She was always the star in the spot lights

With small branches and nylon rope
She would make a Christmas tree
And when she was finish with it
Was the best you could ever see?

She liked to buy the blow up animals
And for Christmas put all in the gallery
Our gallery use to be so decorated
Can still see it in my mind so clearly

 I wish I had talk to her more
There was so much I would have like to know
About her mother and father, brothers and sisters
But you only think about after the time past and go
Remember she use to say
Her big brother use carry her when she small
And while the others children use to be playing
He would not leave her alone at all

And how her mother was very beautiful
And her father use to protect her like gold
So many great history and memories
Is now silence never to be told?

If you have a grandmother 
Just look how she’s finding things to do
To bring joy and happiness everyday
To show the love she has for you

When we are young we just don’t see it
Of all the history unfolding before our eyes
And we never really realize it
Until many years after our grandparents dies
A young girl will go thru the stages of life
Then become a woman with a family to
Then one day hear the words grandma
And when you look, they will be talking to you

Go to your grandmother reach out a hand
Tell her how she is precious and dear
Tell her you love her so she will understand
Because one day you could, wake and she will not be there

Details | Cowboy | |

Faces In the Fire

On those cool summer evenings when coyotes haunt the night
And the campfire is dying—burning low, then flaring bright,
A cowboy plays harmonica while others sing and hum
While down by the chuck wagon a lonely guitar does strum.

A few pokes like Lon Stonecipher stare silent at the fire,
Imagining old friends and folks in times both dear and dire.
Lon sees and talks to faces that flicker in gold flames—
He asks them of the weather—remembers all their names.

“There’s Delton and Rosella, old Burlin and Rob Alcorn,
There’s that sweet Renata Robins that kissed me one June morn.
There’s Cal Shirlo and Spud Scanlon, that both died in the war,
And Addie Belle from Abilene that said she’d love no more.”

Cowpokes yawned and nodded—on this wild words did not dwell—
They knew the man he used to be, but this was just his shell.
The faces in the fire gave him comfort and offered hope,
They were his last salvation—without them he could not cope.

Lon stared into the fire for many hours before sleep—
His rest was fitful, frenzied—never calm, peaceful or deep.
And often he’d awake and gaze mournfully once again
Into those glowing embers in search of friend or kin.

“I can see my last saddle pal, young Mathew Leatherwood
And a Dodge City gambler that I shot right where he stood.
I see my dear grandmother and my sister Anna Lee—
My grandpa and brother Jim, who died at the age of three.”

The fire burned low and so did Lon out on that prairie bow,
But this was as it always was, at least until just now.
“I see you, ma—I see you, pa—your faces smile at me,”
So said old Lon one last time, drifting upon a prairie sea.

They buried Lon Stonecipher right out on that cold, dark land—
And right beside him built a blaze as hot as they could stand.
Then they watched the flames dance, and stared long into that pyre,
And to this day some still swear, Lon’s face was smiling in that fire.



Details | I do not know? | |

Lingering Moments

Thy precious golden leaves of time
Only within a child they shine.
Lingering moments of a mother
Watching her little ones grow
A moment of silence
Beyond thought of her earthly guidance
She knows that yesterdays and tomorrows
Love will carry them on through life.
As night drifts in reaching out are arms
For goodnight hugs in belief that shields them from harm.
Her voice is softly spoken she whispers gifts of love will always be there.
Hold them closely within your heart to share.
She watches them sleep with a feeling of tenderness
She kisses her precious little ones with gentleness.
Knowing the touch of their smiles the echoes of their laughter lingers.
Lifetime moment remembering every part of then from their toes to their fingers
All of her joy is fulfillment in itself for nothing can measure.
She is a mother capturing moments of pleasures.
She feels her children are her priceless treasures.
Through laughter and tears
In her heart are lingering moments of those years.
Those given moments are memories she holds so dear.
She is a grandmother looking upon thee gifts of love.
That has been held closely to their hearts, she prays for them up above.
The precious golden leaves of time
Only within thy precious gifts of love they shine.

Details | Rhyme | |

My Precious Grandmother

My precious grandmother you always will be.
Oh, how I love you, so brave and carefree.

You gave up all that you always have had.
You did it willingly and never was sad.

When my heart was in its deepest despair.
I would talk to you, and knew you cared.

Grandmother your love for people and animals will always remain.
My love for you will always reign.

You are my confidant and have a special place in my heart.
To have and to hold, and never apart.

Details | I do not know? | |


Stop. wait. no. why?
why can't i stop, i cry
I cry out your name in my dark and dismal room
waiting for you to end this gloom
inside my heart and inside my head
all i can do is cry before bed
why did you leave and why were you taken from me
it wasn't your time but you had to leave
you fought and fought and i love you for that
but all i can think now is where are you at?
are you happy are you safe are you happier now?
I tried to cope but i didn't know how
i miss you so much you could never guess
sometimes i still cry and find myself a mess
but im ok and ill be alright
just give me some time cause ill need to fight
this anger this hurt and agony and hate
but ill pull through and learn to accept this fate
I love you and will see you again someday
I know you watch over me always yes today
we will meet up again though i don't know where
i know when i pass you will be there

For my grandmother Susan Lavinia Howe <3

Details | Rhyme | |

Where the Roses Bloom

She looks out the window
From her old rocking chair
With wrinkles on her face
And gray in her hair

She talks about her roses
And, as she smiles, she'll say
"Those roses are pefect,
God made them that way"

"They're more than just flowers,
They're a symbol of love;
"A gift from on High
From the Father above"

"The thorns will remind us,
Of the pain that He bore;
"And its petals, the beauty
Of Heavens sweet shore"

"My time is near over,
I'll be leaving here soon;
"And I want you to bury me,
Where the roses bloom"

My grandmother showered us 
In the love that she gave
And there's three dozen roses
That now cover her grave

Details | Free verse | |

A Sluggish Socratic Reservoir

In your restless slumbers you feel me,
I know you feel me.    
Always by your side like an iron rusted sword
Dull to the touch and stranded to the length of your back.
Your sudden sighs will be the ocean churning and
The waves that collapse against the shore.
Every ache you undergo will emit a moan
So loud and locked away that even the sky will mourn
And it’s rains will fall for you alone.
Each dripping drop will attempt to match your insides
From the moment the first moon beams hit your windowsill
Till the sun ascends in an incandescent dawn
That pinkens the walls of your chambers.
You look beyond a naked field to
A moon which eases with every passing moment.
Beckoning you to dreams and thoughts that lay like scars and stains.
Come, they whisper.
Come listen to the symphony of our affairs.
Come watch these green waters turn to gold.
Travel the world and reach the end 
Only to find that you still want.
But here, with no one around in this volatile room,
With no eyes peering but the licks of lighted candles,
You’ll plead no to a nameless fear 
As you swallow the back of your mind.
Let an open mind in,
Allow it to listen.
And as you glance over to vacancy from
Your worn and heated side,
The skies will shudder with every hope and every lie
That even Socrates cannot deny these tries.
But in the half light of my own room
I wish to be your broken record
Or the lead singers private microphone.
Kiss my finger tips and drink in the residue of fountain pens.
I will plaster each phrase to my bedroom wall
Where I live to see that the writing never flows.
That each excerpt is choppy and final.
That every quote is bold and blush.
The frayed and shredded nursery wallpaper,
Shimmering pink with sudden audacity,
Will reflect moodily and ambiguously of my shattered thoughts.
With kudos to a grandmother Mary,
I slowly lift a frozen face from underneath a pillow.
After a minute of self doubt and realization
That settles like pin pricks on the palms of my hands,
I slide the idle face back into it’s sheath
Then contemplate the curiosity of my own slumber.
While ignoring every hope of sleep,
I’ll thread two nimble fingers through an open flame,
Stare provokingly into the shadows on the ceiling,
Get bored,
Get lonely,
And think of you.                  

Details | Dramatic monologue | |


It was such a simple act but it had a significant meaning
the Disciples had no idea what the Lord Christ was gleaning
they had witnessed His death with their own eyes
and could not grasp the concept that He would still be alive
the Disciples thought He was a ghost and were very confused
the silence was then pierced by the words that Jesus did use
"peace unto you", was what He did say
"peace unto you", were the words He said that day
He did not come at them with the spirit of condemnation
He came with forgiveness and the offer of salvation
He came to give them the power of hope over their despair
He came to let them know that God will always be near
the Lord Christ showed them the power in His righteous hands
He showed them the nail marks that were a result of His enemies plans
He spoke to Thomas that day and told him to rebuke that spirit of doubt
For I am standing before you, now let your belief system win out

He died for us so that we may again have eternal life
His helping hands nailed to the cross, the ultimate sacrifice
from the murky waters of sin and the mired mud of death
He looked beyond our sins when He gave His last breath
those nail pierced hands that had for the people broken bread
those nail pierced hands that were always spirit-led
those nail pierced hands that put many miracles into place
those nail pierced hands full of God's mercy and grace
with a head to hear, a heart to love and holding out our hands to serve
it's our total faith, belief and devotion that our Savior deserves

on a cold December night at the time of my birth
my grandmother was the instrument that brought me onto this earth
I was a breach baby and I would have surely died
if my grandmother had not done what was needed for me to survive
she was an unschooled midwife but possessed a wealth of common sense
she knew to sterilize her hands so in scalding water them she rinsed
she reached inside my mother's womb and turned me around
it was at that precise moment that my true destiny was handed down
and until the day she died she worn those scars on her hands
a reminder that my very existence was a part of God's master plan
she handed Him her hands to give me the breath of life
and as a result today I'm  pastor, a true disciple of the Lord Christ
so hand Him your hands, let your faith become bold
hand Him your hands and welcome others into the fold
hand Him your hands, it's time for our hope to be rebuilt
hand Him your hands and receive the spirit to help and to heal

Details | I do not know? | |

You Never Walk Alone

You never walk alone, 
in this life you live; 
You never walk alone 
for God will surely give; 
All the love that you need 
to live a life of peace, 
And the blessings of the 
Lord will surely never cease. 

You never walk alone 
as on through life you trod; 
You never walk alone 
for you are a child of God. 
You are precious to your savior, 
your master and your King, 
And for the love he gives to you 
your heart will surely sing! 

You never walk alone 
even when death is at the door, 
For Christ will surely guide you 
safely to his kingdoms shore; 
And in this kingdom you will dwell 
in the masters care, 
And all the glory that is his 
you will surely share. 

So please remember as you live 
and walk upon this earth; 
You've never walked alone 
even from your day of birth; 
For christ has always been by your side 
taking care of you. 
And if you'll look back over your life 
I'm sure you'll find its true. 
You never walk alone! 
Dedicated to my loving Grandmother Helen M Miller

Details | Bio | |

Save Everything

Mom feeds us gingersnaps and saltines
when we get sick to our stomachs,
but I never eat any of it.

With sweaty palms I nervously 
stuff the crackers into my pockets,
telling myself
that I am saving the crumbs for later.

Before we moved my grandmother,
she would collect food like a pack rat.
I’d take her for groceries,
and before she was done hiding them,
she’d ask me to take her for more.
It wasn’t the forgetting that made my stomach churn.
It was the smell of rotten heads of lettuce,
and the sight of curdled milk,
gallons and gallons
with expiration dates long past
neatly lining her refrigerator.
At night she would lock herself in her room
with her stockpile of produce and frozen dinners.
The next morning she’d scream:
“I have no food. I am starving!”

We lose everything we try to save.
Fear is a shapeless starvation,
a hunger born of forgetting.

My grandmother survived the atomic bomb,
hiding in the Japanese countryside,
starving while cities burned alive.

Every day during school,
the teachers would take the children
to pick any living vegetables.
They would celebrate Teruko-san’s honesty,
never sneaking a bite for herself,
always presenting the day’s bounty to her father.

Sixty years later she is starving again.
I am dizzy.
I am sick to my stomach.
My hands dive into my pockets,
but the crumbs are gone.

Details | I do not know? | |

Death Retold

Her batter dead body laid there.
Her face bruised and unrecognized.
The tears ran down my face in fear.
As I looked upon my grandmothers eyes.
Why did this happen each mouth?
When she got her social security check.
To this day I still ask and hunt,
For those who broke her neck.
Why did it happen again and again?
That she was beaten and robbed.
I remember it clearly as a child of ten.
My grandmother laying on the bed in her robe.
It was mother's day and I brought her roses.
Only to find the door busted apart.
And my grandmother cold from head to toe.
It crushed my soul and broke my heart.
It was not her fought that she was old.
It was not her fought that she was dirt poor.
Now she will never be hungry or cold.
Or suffered the beatings any more.
                                                                  for my grandmother who was killed in 1967

Details | I do not know? | |

Life's Little Pleasures

    A walk on the beach
Feeling the warm sand between your toes
    The smell of the salt air
Sounds of the waves crashing ashore

Finding a old love letter from your husband
    Filling you with memories

A summer breeze blowing in your hair
    Feeling the arrival of fall

Laying in bed thanking God for his blessings

The sound of your Grandmother singing gospel songs
    As she rocks in her chair

My most precious memory

It's the little things that you treasure

Details | Rhyme | |

Unsung Heroes

How many unknown heroes are sleeping now 
Silently resting in this field once ploughed 
Tiny white markers on each tended grave 
Thankful flowers from those they saved 

In this field lie a million stories
Tales of pain, loss and unknown glory 
Brothers, sons and fathers each dear to someone 
Shrouded now in darkness, taken away by war's gun

Close your eyes and imagine how it was that last day 
As bullets flew and cannons roared, with lives they'd pay
They stayed and did not choose to run 
Those heroes now so very long unsung 

Tales of bravery left unsaid 
Just names on a paper, saying they were dead 
"Killed in Action" 
"Lost at Sea"
Words more than that, would never be

I wander slowly between each silent row
Sensing the pain and deep sorrow 
For one of those unknown heroes was my Grandad
Along with ten of the best friends he ever had

All died together, each trying to save the other one
None of them survived to greet the rising sun 
My Grandmother received a letter, a medal and a flag 
Along with personal effects tucked neatly in his old kit bag

Copies of letters he lovingly wrote
Such sadness brought a lump to your throat 
Tears flowed like rivers that never ran dry 
Pain would always be seen deep within her eye 

I remember that awful day so very well 
That's why his story I am trying to tell
Of his unselfish bravery left unsung 
I have the need to shout out and tell everyone 

I know that many have someone they lost this way 
In a war fought for democracy and freedom to stay
Remember their bravery and their great sacrifice 
To ensure what we have, they paid the ultimate price

Turning to look back at each of the graves 
I whisper my thank you for all that they saved
Sleep silent angels, you passed every test 
You were simply the very, best of the best!  

Details | Rhyme | |

June/My grandmother

Soft and frail her beauty un vails, So fragil and kind what a grandmother of mine, 
Her husband is gone as she struggles to move on, She talks to him every night and day
letting him know she is always here to stay, Walking around through out the house
hoping at times she will see her spouse, Laying in bed she begins to pray letting him know
she will be home one day, To see the Lord that took him away thanking him for letting
them walk day after day, Sitting in her chair wishing he was right there, To hold his hand
and feel his touch, What a husband she has who she loves so much, Through life and death
they walk side by side together forever with love and pride.

Details | Narrative | |

The Depression

I have heard stories,
passed down through the years,
of the depression,
the hardships, and fears.
My grandmother lived it,
and she never forgot,
those days of hunger,
and the pitiful sights.
She told of the rations,
and how they had to last,
with her five little children,
things went mighty fast.
Winters were cold,
the clothes froze on the line,
no dryers back then,
for drying them in.
Coal for the heater,
in a bucket nearby,
and way before daylight,
she would start feeding the fire.
I really can't imagine,
how hard things were,
but I may get the chance real soon,
it is looking more like a depression, for sure.

Details | Free verse | |


Last seen in the newspaper shop.Susan.Susan
Deakin.About 11am.Small blonde girl of eight.
An impassive constable was recording the statements
Inwardly weary with the usual hysteria.
Inwardly quailing at the thought of her daughter's reaction,
Her frantic grandmother was stumbling over the details.
Once the story rippled through the village,
A miasma of fear settled like a haar
Upon the sunlit streets
Where mothers now kept their children tight to them.
Little knots of elderly women stood chattering,
Every utterance dripping with deadly speculation, 
Drowning any pious hope that she was off  safe with her friends.
Solitary males must have keenly felt
The sharp glances of suspicion and wondered why.
Beneath the warmth of an otherwise bright sky
Swam an icy current of deepening distrust
Threatening the community with its riptide of rancour.
There was now nothing to be done but wait. 

Details | Light Poetry | |



Remember when we was small
Growing up in ste Madeleine
Going down the line
And by the pond now and then

Like the long Palm lace street 
That leads to the sugar factory gate
We would play all-day 
An always come home late

The first time I smoke a cigarette
My grandmother said
She says if god wants you to smoke
He would put a chimney on my head

Time will come and go
But words will least forever
 Every thing she said

And as I journey thru age
My mind are so occupied
With the needs of every day life
Trying to keep my soul satisfy

And some times I would look up
At the stars so bright 
And wonders if my grandmother 
Knows I’m thinking of her tonight

I am sure you all remember
 A grand mother’s word to
And when you think of it now
You know it’s true

One time on a cruise
When the ship’s whistle blow
I look up at the chimney
An remembers her words long go

Now I try to play tricks 
With way she use to talk
Use it everyday outside 
When I go for my little walks

Now I use her Philosophy
To every thing around me
And put her Terminology
To Work for all to see

If god wanted us to fight wars
 He wouldn’t give us hands
 Will give us grenades, and guns
And imprint our face with war plans

Details | Free verse | |


I have no idea what I'm going to write
But the wings of fortune
Have proclaimed my fingers gods
And even now this line
Is manifested by the continual clicking of the brain
As pausation
And occurence
Meld like confused and watery metals
Like my own tricyle
Sliding down a dilated pole
Where my grandmother cowered around
Looking for her purse

And now the meanings,
The cymbals,
The catch-alls come shuddering around our...our...our...

**written for my own "Write Now!" contest...did not pause in typing until the last line...**

Details | Narrative | |

Match made in Heaven

My voice
Alive with tone
Yet sharply censored
By a mind's take on years
Of historical notes

Tongue no longer sweetened 
By optomism
Or spiced with
Mischievous humor
Suddenly all I taste is
So dry
So predictably dull

Night steps forward quickly
Like a woman whose
High heels carry her too loudly
Over hardwood floors
I hear her sharp 
And definite approach

Darkness surrounds me
Like mink
Soft to the touch 
But cruel in creation
I lay my head down
And begin to dream

My lonely place in the
Darkness opens
Like a curtain
To reveal a carnival scene
Where pale pink cotton candy
Weaves itself gracefully
Around paper cones

I taste the 
Incredible sweetness
Its pure reminiscent aroma
So filling with the 
Portrayal of childhood innocence
A time lost and
So light in texture
I draw the moment in deep
To remember it well

My grandmother is with me now
Baking her rhubarb pie
Picked fresh from the garden
I'm sitting at her table
A bright-yellow vinyl tablecloth
Neatly drapes itself around
Oval-shaped wood

Loud carnival music 
Compliments my meal
I open my mouth wide
Grandmother, serving the perfect balance
Of sweet and spice,
Says softly
"Eat child...Eat"
And then walks away

Alone now 
I see the faint outline
Of a crowd in the distance
Lining up to take their turn
On the Ferris Wheel
I'm driven to the
Perfectly straight horizon
Vividly painted beyond
And to them

A wise-cracking clown
Accompanies me
Telling off-color jokes
And showing me "the ropes"
On how to effectively
Cut in line

I see my lover
Jeans torn and hair
Perfectly backlit by
The midday sun
He is at the front of the line
He is waiting
For me

All those behind him now
Have grown impatient
After all
It's been 
A very 
Long time

The clown presses my hand
Firmly to my lover's
Like a rose forever saved
Between brittle pages
And with a wink
Waves goodbye

The crowd is cheering now
As brightly-colored balloons
Lift up
They have found 
Their rightful place
In the sky

Details | Rhyme | |


My mother abandoned me at the hospital when I was three days old,
If my grandma had not come along I would have been out in the cold.
My grandma took up time with me, she made sure I was fed;
She cleaned my snotty nose and combed my nappy head.
'Cause grandma raised me right!

When I took my bath and dressed to go to bed at night,
One thng I had to do before I turned out the lights.
My Prayers:  Now I lay me down to sleep,
                  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
                  If I should die before I wake,
                  I pray the Lord my soul to take.
'Cause grandma raised me right!

Sometimes when she talked to me and I did not understand,
Grandma would gently take me by the hand.
She would say to me, you don't understand it now,
Littlle girl you will understand it better, by and by.
'Cause grandma raised me right!

When friends did me wrong and people did not treat me right,
She'd say don't argue with them, don't even fuss or fight.
Leave them folds in God's hand; they will reap what they sow;
Just press your way, just keep on moving, on with your life you should go.
"Cause grandma raised me right!

She taught me to love my mother in spite of what was done,
And now girlfriend my momma acts like I am her favorite one.
And one more thing she saw to before she would depart;
She put the love of Christ Jesus into my little heart.
'Cause grandma raised me right!

          Girl: There ain't nothing like a grandma!!

This story told by a valet parker at a T.D. Jakes convention in 2000 - Atlanta GA
now told in poetry.

Details | I do not know? | |

A Grandmother's Love

A Grandmother’s love is as warm as a summer rain 
A Grandmother’s love can cast away any pain 
A Grandmother’s love will last ever after 
A Grandmother’s love is as sweet as laughter
A Grandmother’s love should never be forsaken 
A Grandmother’s love can never be taken
A Grandmother’s love will be there even if you screw up 
A Grandmother’s love will never let you give up 
A Grandmother’s love will always be shared 
A Grandmother’s love shows you that she cared

So take just one moment to sit back and remember 
that Grandmother’s love you have in your heart 
and love one another as your Grandmother loved you.

She loved the good you, the bad you, and just you.

Details | Free verse | |

When the Rain Stops Falling

My Grandmother use to hate the rain
Said it reminded her even angels share her pain
But when the sunshines and the clouds clear
The world will be clean and full of cheer

Here lately the world is covered in clouds and gloom
The bright days are left in the shadows to loom
Wondering what the morning will bring
Will it be sunshine or rain

Angels are crying
young men and women dying
This world needs a bright clean new day
We could use these cloudy ones to pray

Details | I do not know? | |

Love and Loss

Two small butterscotch eyes look up at me.
As I weep sobs of sorrow and pain
My tears fall from my face like rain.
I hear the gentle soothing purrs of my small yellow cat
As I fall to me knees from where I sat.
The thought of my loved one so slowely passed,
It all happened oh so fast.
One minute she was there,
and the next I knew not where.
I am so ready for that day
When God will come and see her I may.
The loss of a grandmother is oh so hard
But your love and feelings should not be barred.
And now I must not cry
For it is time to say goodbye.

Details | Bio | |

The cycle

My grandmother was poor 
and she didn't do a thing
She let men abuse her body
and had a dozen kids to account for her sins

She taught her kids the worst message
She taught them to be content with what they see
Now my mother is a seed from her but she raise me differently
What she taught me is how to survive
the lessons she told me are ones she never got

she made some mistakes and had kids at a young age
But she worked really hard and my mother has a lot of heart
People in higher positions are envious of her
Because she has the capabilities and the smarts 
But she never had time to get that safety net degree
the one you can shove in people's faces 
whenever they feel like your beneath them

So she'd say sha you have to do better than me
you have to stopped the cycle or we'll never be free
She got herself a good man  before she had me 
who stuck by her side and loved her completely
So when I was born I lived a full life 
filled with joy and beautiful opportunities

But nothing good ever lasts
and my father eventually passed
So did the money and my fun times crashed
but I understand what my mother said completely
that's why i'm gonna get that safety net degree
cause I don't want my mother to struggle any more

I want to break this cycle so when she reaches and old age
she will be safe and secure 
I don't want her to have to worry anymore 
that's why I strive for better 
A better today, there's a better way
to make a better tomorrow 


Details | I do not know? | |

Black Angel

She is my angel 
my comfort 
my support
my guide

She sits on a golden curb
Her cheeks held by two delicate hands
A light radiates her from behind
making her holy wings,
glow, and shine
Her wings stretch wide, 
free, and light
Helping to express her voluptuous figure,
She has round hips,
full, chocolate rose lips,
and a bust that holds the nature of motherhood

She is my angel
my happiness
my joy
my pride

Her smooth blackberry legs
dangle in the breeze
Golden rings, circle her wrists,
humming the angels song as they hit 
Fingernails of peach,
defining her uniqueness,
Her hair pulled into an afro puff,
showing she never forget who she was,
as a women,
a black women

She is my angel
my elegance
my beauty
my charm

Thin cotton white fabric drapes over her
The arches of her flawlessness covered,
exaggerating her purity
She moves with grace
to the melody of a child’s laughter,
Sparkling white teeth show themselves
as she smiles,
loving life
and all that she gives to it

She is my angel
my strength
my wisdom
my courage

Her eyes bright, 
calm, and focused
Watching life, as it passes so quickly below,
Her heart does’t not cry
for the broken,
Her soul does not give way
to desires,
Her mind does not worry
about tomorrow,
because she holds hope
as strong as her prayers,
and as thick as Jesus’ beard

She is my angel
My great grandmother Dagmar
My mother
My aunts
The women who love children
The women who inspire
The women of faith

She is, my black angel

Details | I do not know? | |

Angels Wings

I have her hair her smile and her eyes
I see it in old photos and it makes me want to cry
I miss her so much my heart aches
Every time i think of her the walls break
I know she is better off where she is now
I know it will get easier I just do not know when or how
It has been seven years since she went away
My heart hurts just as bad as it did the first day
sometimes at night when i I awake from a bad dream
She is right there beside me it seams
So God I know you can not give her back to me
But thank you for the angel wings that set my grandmother free

Details | I do not know? | |

Borrowed Time

Borrowed Time
As I watched my grandmother close her eyes for the last time,
I’m reminded of something my father told me many years ago.
“We all live life on borrowed time” as he patted me on the back.
His words were confusing at the time, but his soft voice was comforting.

How can you borrow time? And from whom?
And if time was so easy to borrow, why didn’t grandma borrow more?
My little mind was perplexed.

Time passes like leaves in the wind,
And all too soon my father met the same fate as my beloved grandmother.
And though I had no son at the time to pass along such words of wisdom,
My father’s voice came clearly to mind, and I thought to myself.
We all live life on borrowed time,
What I wouldn’t give to be able to borrow just a little more.

Details | I do not know? | |


In her bedroom, a women stands in front of a full-length mirror.  She has tears in 
her eyes.  She unbuttons her blouse and caresses her breast.  Now let us listen 
to her thoughts.
 'Tomorrow a cut of cold steel will take you away from me.  Tomorrow I will no 
longer be a whole woman.  I remember when you first became a part of me.  
From the first day you came, my life started to change.  My grandmother used to 
look at me and say, “You're becoming a little woman” Now tomorrow I'll once 
again become a little girl.  I also remember the first time that I made love, you 
were there.  He caressed and kissed you just as much as me.  Tomorrow I'll be 
a virgin again.  I guess this is goodbye, for tomorrow you will be removed so I will 
live longer; but also tomorrow a part of my womanhood will die.' 

Details | Narrative | |

She Taught Me How

A long time ago, I think I was ten,
my grandmother Jessie, was my best friend.

Cooking, and cleaning, she showed me how,
the chores were many, I remember them now.

We would walk three miles to the blackberry patch,
and pick so many, we both had two sacks.

When the wild plums got ripe, we were off again,
so we could make jelly, and her good ole jam.

Homemade bisquits were her speciality,
but she had patience, these were not easy for me.

The clothes were hung on an old wire line,
this was our only way of drying.

She would sprinkle the jeans, and roll them up tight,
then I would iron way into the night.

Drying apples for her homemade pies,
I was the one that swatted the flies.

People would talk, and say she is so smart,
but I wanted to help, I loved her with my whole heart.

Now, I thank her, for taking the time,
I will always remember, that grandmother of mine.

Details | I do not know? | |

R.I.P Cardel

One love Cardel
You were one of my favorite cousins. 
I'm going to miss you more than you will ever know. 
I'm hurting inside but just don't want to let it show. 
How could someone do that to you ? 
You were one of many with such beautiful hearts of gold.
It's not the point that you had to go its how you had to go.
One love Cardel...
I hope you're watching from above.
Kiss my baby brother & grandmother and please send up my love
Be good all of you.
One day ill be up there where there's no tears, no fears, and just eternal love!

Details | I do not know? | |


My grandmother from this life
She taught me how to laugh
The dreams that she inspired me
A world that is only myself
almost 10 years since departed
It brings a tear down from my eye
Lonely and afraid
Cold with fear
Nobody could face YOU like she could
Come up to the smile and tell you what she thought
It is easy to miss the beautiful things that were planted
100 years in the Garden for her
Through the Depression
two World Wars
Rock and roll's first flirtation
Kennedy is shot
Vietnam and the rot
The rest you know already
As I said before,my fellow poets
it is easy to miss
The trees
A clear blue sky
summer showers
Birds who fly

Details | Free verse | |

I Have Been

Have you ever heard  the old saying, 'You can ride a willing horse to death," well 
my grandmother told me this many times, during my growing years.
Now that I am older, and I pray much wiser, I know exactly what she meant.
Out there in this big old mean world are people, and some of these people don't 
have much sense when it comes to piling things on you, "farming you out," so to 
speak.  I have been a taxi, I have been a nurse, I have been a teacher, I have 
been a sitter, I have been a cook, I have been a receptionist, I have been a bank, I 
have been a mechanic, I have been a painter, I have been a mother, I have been 
a carpenter, I have been a decorator, I have been a mover, I have been so many 
things, for so many people, I have forgotten who I am.

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's Hand's

I remember grandma’s hand

She raised us oh so well

She taught us the art of patience

And love for your fellow man

Oh, how I remember grandma’s

She held you with her motherly

Although we were her son children

She raised us as her own,

A mother taken away from her
Babies way to soon.

I remember grandma’s hand

She taught us the meaning of 

And learn us to respect ourselves
As well as our fellow man..

She cooked and clean, washed our

She nurture she even bath us when
We couldn’t bathe ourselves

She took on 3 small children including
A very small baby in tow..

I remember grandma’s hand''s

She would sing while she was in the
Kitchen preparing each and every

Listening to those pots and pans

Her dropping them on the floor

She tried to shield and protect us from
All the trouble of the world

I remember grandma’s hand’s

She played doctor on every cut

Scratch and

Bruises that came along with
Young children

Grandma’s hand’s

She Issued out the butt whipping 

That went along with the hugs

But, yet kissed the tears away

She handed out sugar cookies 


Issue us out doors to play

I remember her sitting on the
Porch and saying

Don’t get in that dirt, be careful
Momma baby..

My daddy use to tell her “Ah Momma
Let the kids play”

The dirt will wash off..I truly remember

Grandma’s hand’s

Carried a lot of love and

I remember my grandmother oh, so

We call her “Momma Etta”

Details | I do not know? | |

Blow Out The Candles!

Today is your Birthday mom
You just turned fifty-five
Yet you don’t look a day over forty
Still so beautifully vibrant and alive

Preparations we’re all making
For the woman who gave us life
To help celebrate her special day
Our mom, grandmother and wife

What do you buy for someone?
Who already owns what they wish
A families love, health and closeness
Instead of jewelry, roses or even exotic fish

So close your eyes and make a new wish mom
Blow out those fifty-five candles now
Make a wish entirely for you
For selfishness today is undeniably allowed 

© Stacy Lynn Stiles

Details | Narrative | |

Somewhere Around Five

       It will just be another normal day I thought as I closed my eyes. 
I realized I was oh so wrong as I abruptly awoke to my Grams piercing cries. 
Could her Problem Change My day too? 
Wow! Let's just say I didnt have a clue.
   Eager to find out what was wrong I stumbled out of bed. 
So many horrible scenarios ran through my frantic head. 
I hoped my Gram wasn't in any severe pain. All of my emotions were becoming 
too hard to restrain.
   I finally reached my Gram then remembered a loud boom.
She just looked at me and pointed into my dads room. 
I now knew my Grandmother was okay,
but what about my dad? 
From this point on my day got really bad.
   I walked into his room finding something I never wanted to see. 
I remember thinking "How can this be?".
I found out my father was no longer willingly alive. 
The coroner said he shot himself somewhere around five.

Details | Free verse | |

Without Love

Standing by the lake of
Wanting to heal this broken
Throwing coins for each wish;
Wishing my true love will find
It's way in my heart
I looked around hoping that
Some way he will be stand along
Side me
And mend this old lonely heart!
I wish to end my heart from tear
Stain traces
I still remains without love
Growning old with know promises
Just pains of migraines
Trying to wish upon the wishing
I think my grandmother said this
Would make all your wishes true
Just stand by the lake of wishes
And throw a coin for a wish!
My brain might have remember
Because I have grown a little
My mind never settle on one
Thing at a time
I wish for a improved mind
But yet, of today it have not
Poor me remains alone without
Still by the lake of wishes....

Details | Rhyme | |

Angel in Disguise


Wanting no recognition
demeanor birthed out of love -
two mentors, Rahab and Ruth.
Service, minus ambition,
both pledged their support in truth
with true compassion thereof.

No hidden motivation
but real concern for welfare,
promises made with no lies,
a moral obligation
blessed angel in disguise -
neither knew the fame they’d bear.

Two girls who had never planned
ancestry of royal birth.
Wings moved Ruth to a strange place
while Rahab's wings stayed her hand.
'Twas all a work of God's grace,
neither dared to dream of worth.