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Mother School Poems | Mother Poems About School

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

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Details | Free verse | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.

Copyright © Katie Pukash

Details | I do not know? | |


When the exams comes,
The mats copy turns into sums.
We have to leave everything,
Also our little dear chums.
There are terrible nights that vary,
only books & books are everywhere.
All the books are alive,
Shouting, you don't have any spare time.

In the examination hall,
the question paper is very tall.
But the time is not enough,
to write answer of all.

And when the exams are all over at last,
I want to reach home a little bit fast.
To enjoy and enjoy a lot,
forgetting all the painful days of the past.
I thought I would play & only play,
and to open the books no one say.

And when I reached home,
My mother presented biscuits decorating a tray.
The next two days I did enjoy,
But then my mother said.
don't you have to study you lazy boy!!
Always playing with one or another toy.

That day I knew that days of enjoyment are very few ,
And between enjoyment study always grows !!

Copyright © Ruchi Goel

Details | Quatrain | |

He was Just a Little Boy

I was born unto this world
A little boy called James
I was just like all the rest
Who in the playground played normal games

I knew my life was in trouble
By the time I reached the age of five
My mother had so many friends
I wondered why I was alive

The kids all used to laugh at me
In my short trousers and bloodied knees
If only they had known
What was going on, in the inside of me

Would they ever know
Why a mother would put you down
And pretend that your not there
As another arrives from out of town

Have they ever wondered
To go to school with clothes unwashed
Sleep on a concrete floor
While your Mother's comfortably sloshed

Do they ever stop and wonder
What happens around them day by day
They can't, because they are young like me
When all they want to do is play

My teens are around the corner
To secondary school I go
I survive and I get wiser
As I intend my life to flow

As we travel down life's highways
When we are born they are seldom written
You know the roads you want to take
For inside you, your internally smitten 

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | I do not know? | |


Slow was the logo he had been wearing since he was born.
Born into a world of poverty and scorn. They look at you funny when your mom is 
destroying her fetus and it's not even born yet. 
9 months of pain in a bubble of insanity. Slowly fading. She didn't know how much you 
were going to be. 
So when the day came and she lied down on the table screaming and breathing. Cussing and 
fussing. Wondering why she didn't keep her silly legs closed.
But then you come around and your eyes were enough to tame her. No more stripping to make 
a dollar, no more crack pipes she wanted to be the perfect mother. She raised you right, 
though she made some mistakes she was really trying. 
Your first day of school she held your hand and cried because you were becoming such a 
little man.
She didn't yet know the hardships that were to come. The boat was solid now but the waves 
were sure to crash it.
The little boy strutted to school he wanted to make his mother proud but he didn't yet 
know he was going to be made a fool. 
First day of class and he could barely read. Teacher's crucified him because he didn't 
know his ABC's. 
From then on he was labeled slow. Got left back in the 3rd grade for him their seemed no 
He went from being so determined to blaming his mother, the stress so enormous she 
started the pipe again.
The boy couldn't imagine how much he had hurt her. But he knew hurt as well and for now 
he felt he deserved to be selfish. 
Kids teased him every day, stole his lunch money, called him " slow" and a dummy. He had 
no friends and one day he turned to his mother. 
He said mom why is that every day I go to school and they tease me and I come home and I 
tease you. But you’re silent, you don't ever belittle me. Why is that mommy? He stared at 
her with intelligence in his eyes. The mother was silent for a second and then she looked 
into her baby's eyes and said " Because to me you are golden and even though they might 
not see it I surely know it".The boy looked at his mother and said but how can I be 
golden that's not what anyone says they all say that I’m slow. 
The mother looked at her son and reached out for his hand and slapped it. Didn’t I tell 
you never to listen to what other people say it only matters what you think? What do you 
The boy gazed into his mother's eyes and said " I think I’m really bright, if you can see 
it and I can see it than that's all I need to know. The mother smiled as he left her that 
day the future seemed bright.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | Quatrain | |


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

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

Details | List | |

10 Things to Eat Instead of Red Meat

Is your go-to lunch roast beef sandwich?
Tomorrow you might want turkey instead
Here is why
In gen. red meat- such as roast beef

Not as healthy as other kinds of protein
Tends to have more cholesterol
Often has more saturated fat
Both things are bad for your heart

Eating too much red meat
May linked to colon cancer
This does not mean
You should never eat beef or other red meats

Just go easy on them
Tasty Swaps

Fish or chicken
With hamburgers
Try Veggie burgers

With Stir-fry
Try Fried tofu
With lasagna
Try Eggplant slices

With salad
Try tuna or broiled egg
With Breakfast
Try turkey or soy links

With Casserole
Try lentils and rice
With Chili
Try beans (canned or dried)

With Dinner entrée
Try Roast turkey (baked or broiled)
With sandwiches and wraps
Try grilled chicken or hummus


Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

Details | Dizain | |


Where is heaven, what have we done Why are we abandoned in hell When can we stop using a gun Whose children next do we farewell What demon has set this mad spell Littleton Columbine high school Virginia tech was so cruel Redlake senior high was another How can heaven be I’m no fool Please stop the tears of a mother

Copyright © Shane Cooper

Details | List | |

Qualities of Health Engendering Women

They see strengths
Not the limitations
These are people who will make you proud of yourself
They will tell you why you’re special
Trust you to the point you have to answer their expectations
They make you better than you normally are
You can be proud of yourself
They respect you 
For what you’ve done
Where you’ve come from
They see what you’ve experienced something real
Respect you for your courage
They live by their rules
They do not expect you to follow theirs
They are at peace to themselves
They are not proving anything to you
They are good listeners
Sincere in their interest in you
You feel important
They are available for honest
Genuine discussion
Makes you want to share yourself

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

Details | Narrative | |


The eraser belonged to me; it was saved by my mother and returned along with many other 
childhood items when I became middle aged. I was curious as to why she would save a 
stubby old eraser from the primary grades, so she reminded me of its’ one and only use. My 
faded memory of that time suddenly became crystal clear, as my mother recounted for me a 
watershed episode from my formative years. 

I had, as they say these days “acted out in school once again,” this time by writing 
unspeakable words in a textbook. Without any hesitation or forethought, I chose as my 
repository the teachers’ edition of our English composition book. Quite frankly, at the time, I 
thought they were literary gems worthy of publication. That’s why I knowingly inscribed them 
there for all to see. Upon further review by more knowledgeable minds, it was determined 
corrective guidance and a phone call home was in order.
I was to spend several hours after school that day sweating in contemplative silence as I 
erased the teachers’ edition and many other similarly defaced books. It was during this time 
of reflection that I ground that eraser down to the stub as it remains today. The last visible 
vestiges of my bad expositions disappeared forever that hot afternoon, along with more than 
half of the eraser.

Mother then reminded me of what she overheard the Superintendent tell me, as she sat 
mortally ashamed and waiting for hours in the hallway outside that sweltering classroom. I 
can still visualize her ample adult size, trying in vain to get comfortable, in a sticky one 
armed desk made for a 5th grader.

“ John, I want you to try and remember this:
WHAT YOU SAY to others might last with them until THEY DIE.
But regretful WORDS YOU WRITE, the residue of which, will last long after YOU DIE. 
So you keep what’s left of this eraser and I hope you never need to use it again.”

*For the "Rub it out" contest, i still have the eraser.

Copyright © John Trusty

Details | Haiku | |

Feed Sack Dresses

A combination of Haiku and Kyoka

designer originals
from feed sacks
after the chickens were fed

her artist's touch
honed with the aid
of her foot movement
on the treadle machine

Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Bio | |

I will always have faith in you

 Light my world with fantisies
For there shall be a day in a life 
Where the stars smile so bright 
cause I see your smile 
and I know my day will be all right 

cause your right there next to me 
as I go on my first day of school 
it may not be as easy as I thought it would be but 
I know your right there next to me 
And I smile at the thought of you smiling as I sing this song to you
I've always knew just what to do 

Someday I will be a superstar 
I will give us the life we never had
we will be a happy little family
no matter what I do I will always try 
cause I am not giving up on the lady who gave me life 

Cause your right there next to  me 
As  as I go off to high school 
 It may of got a little better since you been away 
I smile at thought of you looking down at me and saying "im proud of you, im proud of who you became, my sweet little angel 
is growing up" 

I am not letting go of what I used to have 
I am just being happier cuz I know its what you would want for me 

So look back at all we have been threw 
Its your time to shine and give that girl what she derves 
I have grown but she is still so young 
I will be there soon enough 
I only got a few years to go 

So while I am away
Make sure her happiness is still with you 
She  will love you forever just like I do
Cause I see your smile a thousand miles away 
I know we will meet again 
So for now I will remember 
that smile on tuesday night 
tucking me in and telling me "goodnight" 

cause your right there next to me 
as I am coming home
I have my own little family now 
We are coming to visit and say hello to you my dear 
I see that smile as I am driving home 
its been a long time since ive seen your beautiful smile

So dont forget that I love you 
I have always been here to help you understand how a kids heart 
can change so fast whens they have been threw a lot 
Someday they will tell you thank you 
I have a learned alot from you 
I dont know what or who I would be 

So I want you to understand that you dont have to be here for me 
I trust in you 
Like you can never see 
I can hear you saying "I love you" 
I have always had faith in you 
I hope you know you will always be in my heart

Copyright © Heather Bateman

Details | Epic | |

Mommy Why

 Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on.  So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me  to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on  in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother.  The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
    Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial  she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother.  She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat.  I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
    I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met  more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
 After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole  family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.

Copyright © Dorine R Spruill

Details | Epic | |

Birthday Tears

A birthday cake sits before me, laughing at me. The candles whisper mean things, they know my thoughts. The ocean of red frosting simmering in the lights above, the little black flowers that everyone has dibs on. So elegantly outlined in more black lace, this cake is not for a funeral, no of course not. It's for me and the year that passed, for the one coming my way at full speed, the year of tears and stress. The year of chores and closed doors. Birthdays were never my strong point, they always make me sweep. Makes me want to just draw the curtains and sleep the day away, but no that would be letting me off the hook. Much too easy, everyone must talk big and do nothing. The sickening smell of plastic and mold radiate from the cake, must of been on clearance from the bakery down the street. They show up at my door bearing a balloon and small bag and this atrocious cake. Mother always said it's not how good the gft is it's the fact they got one. I must smile and hold it all in till they leave but in the meantime blow out these taunting candles and force down the oily sponge. Open the gift, a bag inside a bag, a old plaid, partly fake shiny leather purse that only a five year old diva would love. The leathery fur lining the mouth of this little monster is coming off with every touch, wonder where they got this thing, but you must be nice and give them the meanness only middle school girls can pull of, the meanness with a smile and a dis but thanks all in one. I rather think of anything right now, terrible “gifts” or the fact they showed up without even picking up a phone, anything than standing here with this thing burning on my kitchen counter waiting for the howled song to be over to blow this thing out and get alone again. Go back upstairs to my little nirvana and sleep the rest of this nightmare away. All their four faces glare at me, they know exactly what I’m thinking. One stands with my balloon in her giant hands and bounces it off my head, how I wish I could take the string and strangle her with it but I do a half assed giggle and ignore it, she keeps doing it, finally her mother has the brainpower to yell at her to stop. Even she knows I will attack, don't you think I’m on edge enough as is? I feel like the candle, starting to sweat like hot wax, hands grip the knife mom handed me and can't wait to cut this thing. Big breath, be sure to get them all in one try, pretend to knock ‘em all dead.

Copyright © Cat Way

Details | Ode | |

Family and Friends

Family, the enemy of our souls wants us to believe
The lie that we are alone
He wants us to believe
That we are treading hopeless road

But the cloud witnesses who urge us on
Tell us another story
The road we tread with light and beauty and fellowship
My friends, we are never alone

Written 09292012

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

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.

Copyright © Nya Johnson

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma Was Dancing

She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
Pat-en-leather shoes,

We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...

Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,

'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'

That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
                  sounds ...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
(ya hoo)

Copyright © Perry Campanella

Details | Sonnet | |

College Years

Luzerne County Community College
I further my education right there
Being there really increased my knowledge
W-S-F-X was on the air

I was the promotion director there
and I hosted Campus Talk a few times
Associate’s Decree without despair
and having a family more than dimes

back in High School college wasn’t in mind
Working out at sea college wasn’t bad
college did get me ready for the grind
and for a moment my mother was glad

but most of all I learn more poetry
and my writing makes me feel truly free

Copyright © Robert Heemstra

Details | Rhyme | |

Show Choir Moms

The Jazz and Pizzazz would not be what it is
If not for the Moms of the musical kids
Sure it’s the Dads who build every set
But it’s the Moms of these shows that we mustn’t forget
They sew on the sequins and alter the hems
And buy the girls ear rings when the song calls for gems
They make all the calls and drive kids around
These show choir Moms just never slow down
They handle the money on fund raising schemes  
They go on the trips and chaperone teens
They might stay up all night on a chair in the hall
Just to be sure no one acts a goofball
They’ve been known to bake the cookies and cake
Take tickets you know at every show
They know all the tricks with pins and duct tape
To keep costumes together or girls into shape
You’ll find them all back stage working in the wing
You know these show choir Mothers can do just anything
Their shoulders get cried on when songs don’t go right
They’re high-fives and hugs come every closing night
They don’t get recognition for all the things they do
Unless you count the love and smiles they often get from you
So on this anniversary on that final curtain call
Be sure to thank the Show Choir Moms who always gave their all

Copyright © mike dailey

Details | Marsiya | |

Peshawar Massacre by Terrorists killing 134 school children

In English

What sort of a mother am I
Who cannot even count 
the innumerable bullet wounds 
spread all over the delicate body
of her beloved child
However, day and night 
I keep   counting 
the myriad of  marks 
left by the terrorists'  bullets
on his school bag;
I will also keep counting 
the innumerable shot wounds 
that spread all over 
his blood-stained books and uniform as well
provided I have the luck 
to live until then.
(translation by mazHur Butt)

In Pushto

( Pa 16,December da yo shaheed bachi da Mor sanda)
16 December ko shahadat pany waly aik Bachy ki Maan ka Nooha..


Mein kesi maa'n hoo'n 
ke jissay 
goliyoan ke nishaan
jism nazuk per tere 
ay meri aankh ke taaray
gin-nay ka izn 
mila hee nahi 
haan magar shumaar karti hoon
subh o roz 
tere bastay pe lage 
golion ke ghaO  beshumaar 
tere kaproan aur kitaboan per bhi jo hein
zaalimoan kee golion ke beshumaar nishaan
tere pak khoon se labraiz
mein unhein bhi gin-na chahti hoon
aur gin hee loon gee unhein 
agar zindagi ne wafa kee.
Mein Ik maa'n hoon,

(translation by mazhar butt)

Copyright © mazhar butt

Details | I do not know? | |

The hope inside

Dark and Gloomy 
The days went by
She lost her hope
All's she did was cry

Her mother was gone
She couldn't go on
Her life felt useless
There was no point 

Then one day it came
The letter that made her forget her shame
Her and her mother had filled out the form
But now was the day she knew for sure if she'd be living in a dorm

She finally felt it again the happiness inside of her
She opened the letter 
And there it was the answer to her life
And the hope she could never find.

Her acceptance to the college
It blew her mind
She thought of her mother
And how she'd be proud
She decided to go
And stop moping around

She grew up and had a good life
There was a new person
Made from dust.

Copyright © Sam Woods

Details | Concrete | |


A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.

Copyright © Miche Ulman

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Shadows, Reflections, and Memories

In the womb 
A baby grows 
Listening to her mother’s voice 
Soothing her 
She smiles and moves 
Little does she know 
What her future holds 
The day arrives 
She is born 
Wrapped tight and cradled by her mother 
Looking up at her mother 
Who wears an exhausted smile 
The baby is comforted 
Little does she know, 
What her future holds 
As she grows 
Her mother tends to her 
Feeding, changing, rocking, singing 
All out of love for her little girl 
The baby coos and cries 
Little does she know, 
What her future holds 
Some years pass 
The daughter falls and skins a knee 
The mother is there 
With a kiss and band-aid 
And all is okay 
Little does she know 
What her future holds 
Soon its time for school 
The daughter cries 
Not wanting her mother to leave 
Finger-paints, songs, the alphabet, counting 
Her mother hangs all on the fridge, proud 
Little does she know, 
What her future holds 
Before long she is a teenager 
Her life epically changing 
High school drama, boys, grades, clubs 
Barely does she see her mother 
Who raised and loved her so 
Little does she know 
What her future holds 
The day comes to kiss good-bye 
Tears streaking mother and daughter faces 
An adult now the daughter struggles 
Missing her mother, wishing she were there 
Calling everyday and regretting earlier years 
Little does she know, 
What her future holds 
Little does she know, 
That as she grew, 
She grew apart from her mother, 
Little does she know, 
That still and no matter what 
Her mother will always love her 
Little does she know, 
That as she ages 
She will always need her mother 
Little does she know, 
How much her mother truly did 
How much her mother truly loves her 
Little does she know, 
She will one day wish 
She were exactly like her mother 
Strong, loving, guiding 
Little does she know, 
What her future holds 
What her purpose in life is 
But as long as she can be like her mother 
She knows life will okay 
That she will succeed.

Copyright © Jillian Veitenheimer

Details | Narrative | |

A Twist of Fate

It is a Wednesday afternoon during the school year.
That means sixth-grader Sallee Jacobs will be walking home today.
Sallee's mother works in the emergency room on Wednesdays,
Otherwise she picks Sallee up at the school that is one mile from their home.

On this particular Wednesday, it is pouring down rain.

As Sallee reaches the half-way point, 
an empty stretch of road between two housing developments,
a red sedan pulls up next to her and the driver rolls down his window.

"Hi," shouts the man over the sound of the pouring rain beating down on the roof of his car, "your mother asked me to pick you up - come get in out of the rain."

Sallee simply stares at this stranger and quietly says, "No thank you", even though she is miserably soaking wet, cold and angry at her mother for working Wednesdays.

"It's okay," reassures the fully-bearded man, "my name is Mr. Thomas, and I am a friend of your mother."

Sallee studies his face, thinking, you don't look like any of my mom's friends.  "No thank you," she repeats as she starts backing away from the car.

Then, out of nowhere, another man appears at Sallee's side.  He is wearing a rain coat and flashes a reassuring smile.  He looks at Sallee and asks, "Is everything all right here?"

Sallee, simply looks at the man in the car.

"Everything is fine," says the man in the car, "Her mother asked me to pick her up out of the rain."

"Do you know this man?", the rain coat asks Sallee.


"Do you want to get into his car?"


"How far away do you live from here?"

"Just up the hill and across Madison."

"Are you okay walking there by yourself?"


There are now four cars lined up behind the red sedan.  They start honking their horns at the car in their way.

"I don't know, Mister," says the rain coated man, "I think you just best move along before I call the police."

The bearded man asks Sallee one more time, "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"

With water dripping down her face, Sallee shakes her head, yes.

The red sedan moves on.


It is 10:00 Wednesday night.  The red sedan is parked in front of Sallee's house.  Mr. Thomas holds Sallee's mother's hand while trying to describe to the police what the man in the raincoat looked like.  Sallee is never seen again.

Copyright © Joe Flach

Details | Naat | |

The Way Towards Great Hope

Prayer gift of the Spirit
Makes us men and women of hope
Prayer keeps the world
Open to Eternal God

To pray alone is good
Even more beautiful
To pray together

Many ways to become acquainted to Him
There are experiences, groups
Encounters, Courses
To pray

Take part of parish liturgies
Be abundantly nourished by the word of Eternal God
With active participation
In the Sacraments

The baptized
Confirmed by the Eternal Holy Spirit
The Holy Eucharist, communion
So as to live as authentic friends and witnesses of Father Christ


Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

Details | Free verse | |

Sweet Children, Sleep

To the Newtown Children

A poet cries with broken heart

Look thine hearts be washen clean with death,
God knows how hastily can be
By an unfitting goodly young man
Become just another evil’s killer.
Take thou no mean of life
That so tenderly and small
Arranged now along that cold room
Where a hundred of parents
Like you and I look on poor children that thou think:
One day they shall be a doctor or a thinker like us.
To understand really why the hungry death
Has to do for their final journey in front of this sickness?

O, children! American children! My children!
I warn thee in all my heart and soul
That could not happen so earlier on life
And where thou cast the peace and saint in the kindness of grace
Take care of them from danger, thou take for a leaf
And makes my heart bleeding every one like us become angry
How in this heavenly nation this massive fate could occur?

Hold me fast in thine embrace God,
Where my despair cannot be silenced,
Let you and me and everyone else to knee and cross
Our fingers against our chest and pray for them,
Give them, Lord, thy blessing give,
Pray for them and mother as well,
And I shall finish this poem with trembled
Fingers and tears cascading over this bloody
Sheet as an awaken wind has just blown it from me.

Copyright © George Zamalea

Details | I do not know? | |

The Shadow Man (aka The Story of Freddy Krueger)


There was a man working at our school. No one knew he was. The teachers kept a close eye 
on him while he worked outside around the school property. 

Two weeks into the school year, an 8-year-old girl came up to the man and said, "What is 
your name sir?"

The man smiled at the little girl and said, "Freddy."

"Would you like to play hide and seek with us", the girl asked.

Freddy bowed his head and covered his eyes, "Thirty...twenty-nine..."

The little girl's face light up with excitement, and she went and got her friends, and they hid 
around the school.

" or not. Here I come"

Freddy looked around the school saying, "One...two...Freddy's comin for you..." Freddy was 
unsuccessful in finding the children. So, he went down to the cellar where he lived and saw a 
little girl hiding under the table. "There ya are", said Freddy. The girl sprung up from the 
table with excitement. "That was fun", the girl said. "Do you know any other games we could 
play?" Freddy thought for a second, "Well, if you can keep a secret, I'll take you to a place 
that no one else knows of." The girl vowed to keep it a secret.

Hours passed, and the little girl returned home from school. She ran to her parents, 
crying. "What's wrong?" her mother asked. "There's this man at school. He took me to his 
cave, and did something terrible." The mother and fathers faces burned with anger. "What 
did he do to you?" the father demanded. The girl turned around, lifted up her shirt, and there 
were four giant cuts, like from a bear claw, going across her back.

Hours passed, and a group of parents got together to confront Freddy. Freddy saw them 
coming, and ran to an old abandoned mill. Freddy ran inside, with the parents running after 
him with bats and knives. He locked the door, and the parents filled bottles with gasoline, 
light them on fire, and threw them in the window. Freddy was burned to death, and the 
parents kept that terrible act their secret.

Copyright © Daniel McGraw

Details | Epitaph | |

My Haunting Mother

“Don’t touch me.” Mother whispers in my ear.
“Be quiet! Hush!  She adds.
“You have performed irresponsibly again.”
“You are grounded until your high school commencement.”
 Mothers’ words sting my heart.
Her presence surrounds me.
Her chilly breath has never been warm.
 Her eyes stab my cheeks.
Where are soft kisses?
She squeezes and drains every once of blood from me.
She haunts me with cold cynical memories.
My mother, still so miserable.
Even in death her misery lives within me.
Please, let go mother.
 Love me.
Wait for me.
I promise, I will love you back.

Copyright © Robin Maughan

Details | Rhyme | |

My Protecting Mama

Mama please comfort me I'm your little child.
Please protect me from the dreams I have that are so wild.
Mama thanks for being there when I started first grade.
You were my comfort and stay and came to my aid.
Then there was middle school
You were always there, thanks for being so cool.
Jr. high came and went
without very much of a vent.
Then there was high school and college.
The period when I had ALL the knowledge.
A college grad. you were so proud.
I always could hear you bragging so loud.
Life has a way of passing by
And now mama you are the apple of my eye.
Although ageing you are beautiful still.
And day by day I know you are very real.
You need to spend more time with your little child.
And protect him from the dreams that are so real and wild.
And when you need me oh mama dear,
Know that your child will always be near.

Copyright © Marty Owens

Details | Narrative | |

Black Leather Pouch

I stood before the mirror
in my violet cotton shirt
and jeans from the Gap,
with combed brown hair 
falling just below my shoulders,
my backpack in tow.
Small but mighty,
there I was,
ready to be one of 
the big kids now.

I held on tightly to my mom's hand
on the corner of Hazel and Greenleaf,
anxiously awaiting the arrival 
of the yellow school bus
to take me off to my first day
as a 1st grader. 

She sensed my nerves
and knelt down beside me,
placing a small black leather pouch necklace
in my hand.
"Put this around your neck
and whenever you start to feel
scared or lonely at school,
just rub the pouch and I'll be there,"
she said with a smile.

I clutched the pouch 
in my hand as the school bus
pulled up to the corner
and opened its doors. 
Charlie the bus driver
welcomed kids with a warm smile,
but I didn't want to let go of mom's hand.
With the pouch in my right hand,
and her hand in my left,
everything was right.
But as the last of the other kids
boarded the bus,
I knew it was time to let go
of mom's hand.

I waved one more time from the bus
as I sat down on the sticky brown
school bus seats.
I looked out the window
trying to hold onto my mom
with my eyes until
I couldn't see her anymore.

I felt the tears begin to well,
and my lower lip trembled,
the only thing I wanted 
was to be back with my mom.
I took the pouch out of my hand,
and slipped it over my head
onto my neck.
Closing my eyes
I rubbed the pouch,
and just like she said,
she was there with me
holding my hand.

Years later 
on a humid day in late September
I stood in front of the mirror
in my apartment,
wearing a yellow tank top 
and a loose brown skirt,
my short hair pulled back
in a ponytail.
As the time came for me to leave,
all I wanted to do was cry.
I wish mom was here to hold my hand,
I thought, looking down at my
empty hands.
I grabbed my bag from my chair,
and a worn black leather pouch
fell from the chair onto the carpet.
I stared at it for just a moment,
and then picked it up and tied it tightly 
to the strap on my bag.
As I walked into the room
for my first day as a big girl
in the real world.
I realized I was rubbing the pouch
with the fingers on my right hand,
just as I did on the first day of 
the 1st grade.

I knew she was there with me
holding my hand through my struggles,
just like she promised me years earlier
while waiting for the bus
on the corner of Hazel and Greenleaf.

Copyright © Katie Telling

Details | Narrative | |

Covenant House Prayer

Lord God,

All people have problems and troubles in the world.
Provide children someone to love and be loved,
Help them have someone to walk with as far as they wish.
Give them wisdom or understanding and knowledge to do what is right and what is wrong.

Help children have strength and courage to face their oppressors who tease and bully them
Those who gather socialize and trade their images
Children who are being rape and abuse
Enlighten people to realize their horrifying acts

Please help children choose the right decisions to the things that happens
Help the children's attitude towards people.
Give them fortitude or strength to hope for their brighter future
Help them reach their teenage years in peace

Give them courage to face their trials,
Perseverance to strive hard to reach their best and be successful
Help them have Patience and Tolerance when dealing with hardships
Comfort them mentally and physically to be calm.

We ask this through Your Son, Fr. Christ
Who lives and reigns with You forever and ever.  


Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza