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Mother Sister Poems | Mother Poems About Sister

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

The truth about women

Bestowed with femininity,
     wisdom, elegance, and grace,
     exemplifying dignity, daughter of the human race.

X chromosome integrity
      ordains attributes endowed,
      according by propensity, a nature kind and proud. 
Beauty and vitality
     anoint her noble gender,
     magnum opus artistry imparts celestial splendor.

Her marvelous complexity
     gives complementary disposition
     to valiant masculinity for a perfect coalition.

Exquisite physiology
     yields licentious pleasure due
     the wanton sensuality of erotic pas de deux.

Magnificent hologyny,
     woman becomes by thy behest,
     sacred vessel of posterity, with honor ever blessed.

Copyright © Thvia Stein

Details | Rhyme | |

I am

I am mother (father) sister daughter
Favourite aunt, SELDOM rant
Pan Flute player, dragon slayer 
Own nothing pink, at least I think
Teach Sunday school, kids find that cool
I am not to lean, I’m sure you’ve seen
Curly hair, I seldom swear
But if I do, God help you
Sing in a choir, now I’m on fire
Love my dog, I want a blog
I am very kind, at least in my mind
Love good movies, never been much of a sleaze
I just gave you a look inside my book
So for now I take a bow.

I am female
Sorry I just found a fluffy beautiful pink bath robe.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
Frank Herrera’s Contest:
I am

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans

Details | Rhyme | |

The Best Mistake

You made the mistake and now,
your afraid to face this day. 

Your thoughts are racing through 
and through.

You wonder if your family looks at
you as a disgrace, but you'er mother
takes you and reasures, your very 
much loved in grace.

Even though your much to young
for this breathing little thing this
has become.

You couldn't just throw it out
like it was a peice of trash.

So you grow up and take the
path that led you to your best
mistake for years to come.

Copyright © Emily Kroeger

Details | Free verse | |

Since First I Saw You

Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.

Copyright © Mac McGovern

Details | Couplet | |

Marble in Columns on Green

On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute

For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes

A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken

So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife

On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys

For the living, life goes on 
Tomorrow is another day

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | ABC | |

my mother

oh! my lovely mother, 
you are the greatest gift ever!
you are my best friend,
living without you ,never!
you may go through pain, 
but always feel pleasure!
you are worth more than a treasure!!!!
you always support me,
 you always encourage me,
you always understand me,
when I am down ,
you are the one who makes me feel better !!!
oh my lovely mother ,
 you are the greatest gift ever!!!!!

Copyright © shaista aziz

Details | Rhyme | |


The howls of the wolfs strike the beast beneath the bed it roars 
For it’s the full moon to night Scary of course
The little kid crawls out the bed to go to the toilet that night
When he thinks of the witches  and the beasts that bit
He steps back into bed when he gets a horrible frit
A ghost comes out the cupboard a skeleton from beneath the bed 
A monster comes through  the door way that he thinks will eat his head
A witch hackles from in his draws and then he fins out
It’s his sister his brother his mother and his father all messing about
From beneath the bed his brother with a skeleton  mask
Well in his cupboard his father with out a doubt
From in his draws his sister the smell little brat
From under the door way his mother of course he did say note
What he did was put his hand in his desk grab a water gun and squirted them all and his mum
He felt kind of stupid much more then he did before 
When he found out it was is nan and granddad how organized it all

Copyright © Miriam Bell

Details | Rhyme | |

My Sister's Sandals

Look at that big world way out there,
eyes only three  just sit and stare,
Oh, how I want to go outside of this door,
to see that big world that's mine to explore!

" You're much too young,"   mother would say, 
"to go outside alone and play".
And then to add to my bad news,
she takes away my only shoes.

But my sister's sandals are still there,
Should I take them? Do I dare?
I do, and suddenly I am free,
just as happy as can be!

My journey now I can complete,
with sister's shoes upon my feet.
The sand burrs in the alley way,
would not stop me, no not today!

Then like a  big, exploding bomb,
my sister calls out to our mom,
that I have stolen what was hers,
to walk across those sharpened burrs.

Mother's angry, I could tell,
she sees me and begins to yell,
"Take your sister's shoes off now! 
And get back here, I don't care how!"

I'm so scared, but this I do,
I take off one, then the other shoe.
My sister takes them both away,
and now I have a price to pay.

Our mother shrieks, "Get over here!"
I cry from pain and I cry from fear,
as burrs pierce through my tender  skin,
I beg my mom to make it end.

As I am crying, "Mommy, please!"
I fall down on my hands and knees,
but still she's screaming with that voice,
so I crawl through burrs, I have no choice.

She reaches down and grabs my hair,
and beats me while the neighbors stare,
She hits my face repeatedly,
while she says these words to me,

"I'll teach you not to cause me grief!
I'll teach you not to be a thief!"
I used to want to go explore-
but I don't want to anymore.

Copyright © Curt Mongold

Details | Rhyme | |

Just Reach

just reach your hand out to the sky
pull your loved ones back to your side

lets get to say one more goodbye
for we never wanted them to go away and die

as now the days and nights lay 
in such sweet disguise

so let us once again our lord
stare into their illumating eyes

as we reach out for them 
in your broad horizon sky

and get to hold and kiss them
even if their not by our sides

for if this is however feels when we die
then I'd like to be that angel in that sky

so I can just reach out right back
and wipe their tears too from their eyes

Tribute To Our Loved Ones
On The Other Side
May You All RIP

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | I do not know? | |

The Two

It was the summer of 1938 when the whisper of fate broke through the airless 
And two curious children got to their feet the little girl knew something was not 
Little Jack the baby, stood in the middle of the room, the dirt floor cool on his bare 
his sister did not stand, but walked over to the screen door unmindful of the 
Texas heat.

Who told the girl what happened? Could it be that angles spoke softly in her 
small ear?
She looked at her little brother Jack, and told him what she knew, in her voice 
was no fear.
“It’s daddy you know, he’s not coming back Jackie” she said in a quietly hushed 
Little Jack was so young, and he didn’t understand.  But daddy, he never did 
come home.

Their mother you see neither one can truly recall, maybe for them she never 
really was,
She walked through their lives on a stage of drama never doing the things a 
mother does.
But they remember the rainy day in a town that is now gone, when daddy was laid 
to rest,
Their mother you see showed up late, in a new car and wearing her brand new 
Sunday best.

The Two though they went on, as children do.  The little girl mothering her little 
brother Jack.
So small and alone, they looked for food in the trash the little girl with her brother 
on her back.
Mother was there somewhere, laughing in the dark secrecy, loving what men 
could provide.
The children to her became baggage, inconvenient, a hindrance that she just 
could not abide.

Some in the town began to take pity, watching the rag dolls as they walked 
through the street,
When evening fell the town went home, so did the Two in their frayed clothes and 
bare little feet.
But time can bring sweet escape, and that came to the Two through the blessing 
of a new life,
It was their fate not to grow up together, one knowing peace the other life colored 
with strife.

But the Two would meet through out the years for their destiny is intertwined in 
blood and history,
Time marched on and as they now age they share in each others lives, a lasting 
bond and mystery.
She can no longer carry Jack on her back, but she has always carried him in her 
heart and mind,
And to Jack, his sister has always been more than words can explain, more than 
most will ever find.

Copyright © Molly Cavalier

Details | Verse | |

I'm Going Home


Lord thank you for this life,
As I have lived a full life,
It was not always as I would have like,
But I lived it to the best of what I could,
I’m going home; Home to the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been a long weary believer, 
As I’ve been away to long,
I now know what I’ve been searching for, 
As He's been there in me all along,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been and seen lots of places in life’s journey,
Now I yearn for familiar faces in familiar places,
I hear familiar voices calling me to come home, 
I see familiar faces looking at me,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
My time is near, the hour I know not,
I see Jesus' face across the Heaven’s,
I hear His soft sweet voice calling me home,
 I can’t wait for my real life to begin,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me.

By; Rev. Samuel and Esta Mack, OMS
Copyright 2011


Copyright © Rev. Dr. Samuel Mack OMS DD

Details | Haiku | |

Viking Death Prayer

With raised sword and shield,
The Norseman yells to Odin
The Viking Death Prayer*

 *  The Viking Death Prayer

Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother,
My sisters and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people,
Back to the beginning.
Lo, they do call to me,
They bid me take my place among them
In the Halls of Valhalla,
Where the brave shall live forever,
Where thine enemies have been vanquished,
Nor shall we mourn but rejoice,
For those who have died
The glorious death.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Family Grief Family Happiness

   Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
    My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
        My Mother caring about all five in different ways
      Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays 
     My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
      Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John. 
       music  a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !

     Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
          The music  takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "    
      My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
                 My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
        feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food               
       the yelling , slamming of doors ,  tempers Flare , passion 
         Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
        After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
         Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?

       Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee  
                 No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
          the  Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .  
        Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
             Excited in Chicago !  seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
        Cubs ,  museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
       Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
             Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `  
        Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones , 
          scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
           ~ That is the Family I Love ,
                     that is the Family I choose to miss ~    

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

It's not a mask,it's my face

I like to wear mask

I wear a mask everyday

This mask I wear for my mom

This mask I wear for my brothers

This mask I wear for my sisters

This mask I wear for my dad

This mask I wear for my aunts

This mask I wear for my cousins

This mask I wear for my uncles 

This mask I wear for my grandma

This mask I wear for my grandpa

This mask I wear for friends

This mask I wear for strangers

I've grown so accustomed to wearing a mask, I've even made myself believe it's my face.

It's sometimes painted.

It's sometimes plain

It's sometimes decorated

But even after all that, when the night comes and I'm sitting alone I remove the mask. And out falls everything that I fear.My scars shows.And the darkness finally is let out.

I can cry, silently

My screams are never heard.

But that's alright, as long as everyone else is happy it's fine right?

To be honest, you just sound selfish.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes

Details | I do not know? | |

Dear little sister from another mister

You’ve been thrown left and right,
Crying to yourself every night,
Thinking all has gone wrong,
& you won’t be giving up after long..
You’ve been heartbroken 
Two many times:
From old boyfriends,
To lies;
Father walked out,
Baby killed by mistake;
Your mom has disowned you,
But she still shows you lust…
Everybody knows the truth,
The pain that you do not choose;
They see what you show,
But see me…
I, T’Keyah Wilder,
I already know…
You’ve raped and thrown from left to right;
Crying to yourself every night;
Everybody saying they understand,
But you know you’re the only
One who knows your pain ;
On this land…
It’s a matter of time, 
Before you kill yourself,
Stressing yourself,
Hurting you and everyone else;
Blaming yourself for,
Mistakes not purposely made;
Crying every time you feel like you just got 
You want the true love,
Love shown from the heart;
Coming from your big sister; 
I think you need a fresh start,
Easing your pain with nicotine;
I’m surprised you’re not 
Sippin lean…
I know it may be hard,
To forget about the past,
But there’s one thing;
I must ask from you and I 
Want this to last;
Promise me, you’ll try your best
To stress less,
& pray more…
Listen to God;
Put him above…
We’re not close like we used to be,
But you know I’m just a phone call,
Not far from you..
But I wish you’d  realize,
This too…
Stressing is not working,
Cause death, the devil, lies,
& fear are lurking..
Promise me;
You’ll try to be the best you can be…
Dear Little Sister from another Mister!
<3 RiP auntie bby ; djF .

Copyright © T'Keyah Wilder

Details | Free verse | |


Priceless pearl
my hidden diamond
love's sweet jewel

Heaven sent
Angelic countenance
Beauty so pure

Lovely daughter
your character delights
my devotion forever

Heartbeat on screen
My unbelief ceased
the moment
first squeezed my finger

Copyright © Christina Holmes

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.

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | Rhyme | |

Sister, Sister

Mother Superior faced a daunting task,
Like no other in her forty years.
She had prayed it simply wasn’t so,
That Godly intervention might belie her fears.

But sadly, there was no such intervention,
No relief from the duty she did rue.
Despite her hopes and all her prayers,
It had been confirmed.  What she feared was true.

So, she gathered all the Sisters after Vespers.
The impromptu meeting caused quite a stir.
There was murmuring as they filed into the chapel.
She hesitated for a moment... but no, she was sure.

“Sisters, I asked you all here to share some news.
It’s something I never thought I’d have to say.
We have a case of gonorrhea in the convent.”
Mary Catherine, a Sister for sixty years, said, 
“Oh, thank God.  I’m so tired of Chardonnay.” 

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Rhyme | |

Did The Lord Build Your House

Did The Lord Build Your House? This house of ours is “plain.” But is still standing. We’re “simple folks...” By many people’s understanding… We may not have much of what is “socially appealing”… But we have love in our hearts. And this is a good feeling! We may not be “wrapped up” in much of this world’s entertainment. But we seek God’s peace and a desire for contentment. We, as a family, have one purpose and “calling” in mind. To seek God’s ways of being merciful and kind… Each day we pray with much thankfulness in our hearts… For this is where happiness and gratitude starts! We’re thankful to the Lord for his unfailing grace… And for keeping us together in this special place… We’re blessed to have a God who is truly worth finding. His word in our lives is precious and worth memorizing! “Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain that build it!” God must rule and reign… So his love can completely fill it! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

My Dad

My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom. 
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's 
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .

Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world . 

Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life . 
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?

I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters 
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.

Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .

Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party,  how and when,  Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock . 

 "Dad Passed " received call  from sister whom just stayed a week with me ,  I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.

I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.

He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~

I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme. 

 Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
 Are you Glorified with Power?  Denied the right to grieve , 

 Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .

My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks. 
 We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.

Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .

Copyright © Shanity Rain

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 | Bio | |

My Family Hair

I call myself a blonde,,,
Never a redhead, like my sister,
Oh how funny she thinks that is.
Still, another one is brunette like our mother.
My mother was an Irish and Norwegian girl. 
I also have another younger sister who was blonde
Then it also turned brunette like my mother ~ I could 
Never figure that out ~ I of course thought she dyed it. 

Then, there are my three brothers,,, 
Youngest was a sandy blonde, sort of. 
The oldest one was also a sandy blonde.
Who always reminded me of Ricky Nelson.
Then there , "was", my brother Bill, who died.
He was also a redhead like my oldest sister. 
We bumped heads a lot, too much I thought.
Then, there is my father, who brought the red hair.
He came from a family line of red haired Scotch/ Irish.             
Oh, yes, then there is my lost sister Shirley - Anne 
Died at six months, from what they called a blue baby.
Mom always said she was a sweet baby and a redhead.
I used to wonder if I was her, in a new body, slightly red.   

Jan. 19, 2013   Saturday 4pm 
" inspiration from "Duke Beaufort's poem "color crazy" thank you.

As little girl" I wondered if I was Shirley- Anne, because
I was the girl who came after her, she was born 1953, I in 1955,,
 mom never said too much about my thoughts, so maybe she felt the same ? 
Or maybe she thought "there goes my crazy little girl"

Copyright © Debbie Duncan

Details | Rhyme | |

Elenor Quine

Elenor Quine

Elenor Quine was her name, but they just called her Nellie. My late mother said.

She was born in 1909.She was always apparently the last one up to bed

She was one of my  Mothers sisters, who died when she was just  twelve years old.

Because she got soaking wet then caught a cold

It then turned to Pneumonia. The year was 1921.

There was not a lot that could be done 

My Mother was just ten, at that time. Her other sister was Winnie, Her brothers Bill and Tom.

But they are all now long since gone.

She did have another sister born years  after Nellie died.

She was called Bunty When she arrived everyone cried.

She too has long since gone. Throughout the whole of her life my late mother kept a little white dish with two handles on it.

Because it used to be Nellies, I can’t bear to bin it.

This afternoon I just got it down to dust. Then all the memories of what I have been told 

Came flooding back to me,. So much history it has. It is so old.

Now it is going back on the top shelf again.

A little dish that holds a story of pain.

So although Nellie I never knew you. 

I just wanted to write a little verse about  you.


Copyright © pat dring

Details | Rhyme | |


To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions. 

First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.

Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.

In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.

As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
 Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
 She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.

Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.

Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.     

 With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
 And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
 As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
 She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
 She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
 As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.

Copyright © Albert Price

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

Copyright © Denise Hopkins

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)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Free verse | |


The black cloak wrinkled from a restless night 
Worn that day despite its negative appearance
Deep, deep black eyes look darkest from grief
Time only wears away the cloak's black color
Washed to a dull gray-black lacking luster
The fabric worn nearly through from its constant use

Each night's journey into the land of terror
Accompanied by the cloak so real that coated every dream
She would sleep, rest, and dream of reaching for her baby girl
Relive the horror of those black eyes a mirror image of self
Staring back at her set in death's grip, wide open and black
A dream that never went away for it was real life event
Dead at nine months old from pneumonia
Found by those living, deep black eyes that never lived again

My adoptive mother and father had a baby girl who died at 9 months old from pneumonia..My mother fed her at 2 A.M. and when the baby  did not awake in the morning as usual mother went to see about her and she was dead..

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Rhyme | |

I Know Of Someone Holding Unforgiveness

I Know of Someone Holding Unforgiveness! I know of someone holding unforgiveness! This has led to a life of much bitterness! Toward his brother, he’s held on to a grudge. From his viewpoint, he won’t even “budge.” No matter what God’s word has clearly spoken… He’s walked with a heart that’s been broken! His son prayed that God would speak to him! That he would forgive, so God could heal him! Forgiveness is a powerful thing to do! If you want God’s mercy to flow through you! We’re not called to “hold back,” the love God’s given! Through Christ shed blood… We’re all forgiven! May the love of Christ come and touch us! It’s no secret how much God really loves us! Please come Lord Jesus! And touch our soul! May we express your love, wherever we go! May God’s gentle love, be what always binds us! HIS words; “love one another,” do remind us! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Light Poetry | |

Missing You

Missing you is like feelings of thee morning dew. The very first time I glanced at you, something like a widow a woman that husband has died. Wishing we had just a little more time. Wishful thinking believing everything you ever said was true shows how bad I want to be with you. Reminiscing over here dwelling on the past, indicating a desire of admiration I grasp. Adoration and appreciation is what I feel for you, longing suffering missing and enduring the lost just to speak to you. From morning till midnight, sunset to sunrise moving into the afternoon time I’m missing you. Arousing emotional response in motion missing you is my religion. My system of belief, therefor you’re an apostle sent by Christ making me a flock of one in your missionary. Leaving me with anxiety and tension I stay missing. Impatient for your fulfillment, missing you is an addiction and psychological dependence. Needing to see you even for a minute, in a recession I remain unchanged retain missing you.

Copyright © twanna Irisha

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,

But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande