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Narrative Angel Poems | Narrative Poems About Angel

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Mother and Child

and she said Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams but today I live in my daughter's happiness All my goals I left behind to watch her reach her own All my friends I do not see,to stay with her at home Money might get tight,but what is money compared to pure joy of a child What is money compared to her almond eyes Success lies dormant on shelves for years to come But what is success compared to first giggles to first steps, first mouthfuls and her little grabs Compared to gurgles and babbles to first time she calls me mama and hold on to my hands What is beauty in the world compared to a pearl This innocent child,a coloured coral petite pretty girl Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams But today I live in my daughter's happiness I had my days of wine and chocolate eclaires roses on doorstep,unsigned love letters with spiced cologne and enticing words Today I live in my daughter's shadow To watch her live her own dream I watch her bloom in autumn gardens from princess of hearts become queen Tomorrow I will not be here She might not get to see the white of my hair the wrinkle in my smile But,today she knows I love her long more after petals wither long more after a mother's hug fades long after I shine from the sky.
Dedicated to my beloved Christina with love Happy first birthday wrapped with barney hugs and Winnie the pooh kisses :-$:-|B-)


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Susie The Tiny Angel

She was the smallest of all the angels
although all the other angels were at 
least five feet tall, 
Susie the angel was no larger than a Barbie doll.

She was by far the cutest of all the Angels
but little Susie was a little sad this Christmas Season.

She had wings that's for sure, so she could reach
the top of Christmas trees but the toppers
were always too heavy which made Susie sad.

She spoke to the other Angels about it
of course they all offered to help her.
Susie explained she was thankful
but she really wanted to do it on her own.

That's when it happened Susie 
right then and there became the first
Angel to shed a tear.

She had turned so no one saw, 
but Susie felt badly.

The next day while alone Susie
thought of her troubles and it happened
again, except this time it was many tears.

"Wait" Susie thought "my tears sparkle".
So she thought more about her sadness.
More and more tears flowed.
That is when Susie realized this was all meant to be.

The next morning Susie visited her favorite homes
as she flew over the trees and spread her tears.

From that day on their were changes.
All Christmas trees would sparkle with 
the glitter of Susie's magic.

Susie wasn't sad at all she wasn't even crying.
She had been picked to be the Christmas Angel.
The one that made all trees sparkle.

Now Susie no longer worried about placing toppers.

To honor Susie changes were made to Christmas trees.
They were topped with a star that resembled her tears
or a small Angel just like Suzie, one that made
the whole tree glitter.

02~12~2014
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest Name: Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale 


 


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---And the Angel Looked On

"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write" - Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

"Remember..."
that was the last word he whispered before his eyes closed forever...
"Remember..."

I close my own eyes, bite my lower lip, 'til I taste tin, stone angel crying with me...
The wind sends chills through me, as the heavens threatened to weep
brown leaves skittering between my feet, seeking for shelter.
How I related to those leaves: dry...brittle...dead.

I look at the Angel that watches over him,imploring for answers, 
begging this Guardian to take pity on me, help me remember. 
She only looks at me, with tears in her eyes, her beautiful face
always looked enigmatic to me, for she was smiling...
and yet those tears hinted at sadness, 
seemingly reprimanding me with her look.
I bow my head in shame, and reach for her hands, 
but I only feel cold, hard stone...not unlike my heart

My throat catches, I can hardly breathe--
I loosen my grip, feeling it might burn this time
...from guilt, for forgetting...

I glance at her magnificent wings, and wished I had them, too,
if only to fly away, but my feet are stuck on the ground, 
with a heart buried in regret.

I whisper one word: "Sorry":spoken so softly, I think I only said it in my heart;
I say it louder, my body wracked with sobs, my heart bleeding crimson tears of anguish. 
I look at the Angel and notice something on her sash--
One pristine white feather lay there-a stark contrast to the moss covered stone.
I take the feather, notice wordings etched on the sash--and scraped off moss, 
Tennyson's words go straight to my heart...
" 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

The memories come back like a flash flood, assaulting me, bringing me back to that day.
He told me he had an angel carved to be with him at his grave, 
since I, his angel, couldn't always be there for him. And that he understood, 
that it was okay. I shrugged it off, told him I love him forever.
I still do, that's why it shamed me that I also love another now.

Seeing those words, I felt such a sense of peace, like he was embracing me, 
smoothing out my hair like he used to, telling me it was all right. 
I blink back tears, and say "Thank you" this time...I hug the Angel and I felt warm.
Drizzle and sunlight bounced off each other as I walked away. 
I turn my head around to his grave
--and the Angel looked on with a smile.


Constance's Angels in Cemeteries contest
 June 18, 2011


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Faraway Dream

Thorns tearing as a soul cries out 
For a magic star to appear in the Heavens
Lost in the silver of the moon face 
alone inside a chandelier 
star lighting crystals a rainbow of love
In each teardrop one star falls
Within thoughts dust a trail 
falling water sparkling over jewels glistening 
in each and every wish granted
Shimmering silver treasure 
falling in love you are so beautiful 
sweetly beyond this world and the next 
Twinkling behind dazzling sparkles
jewels of everlasting happiness
bliss will be the joy it brings 
in never ending beauty sings 
Each a warm fluttering inside wings
blushing ruby red lips kissing desire 
deeply turning keys passion hotly breathes
Warm with a fire burning bright
flames openly embracing you love
softly and tenderly sighs sweetly
Touching this dream a gentle warm glow
holding the heart open 
to one stunning beauty of a queen


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The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
 
~~~ 
 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.

~~~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place





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Night Angel

They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Agonizing
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
Bravely
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.


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My honky tonk angel

I have dreamed so many dreams of life in Texas
Of cowboys and of the history I'd find there
So many hours I have been driving 
but all I see are oil wells everywhere .

Long dusty roads and lorries hauling 
Miles and miles of heavy industry 
but just as I felt my spirit falling 
A vision of loveliness appeared to me . 

Calling to fill my car with fuel 
Perhaps a diet coke to quench my thirst 
Sat behind the counter on a stool 
An angel giggled as I cursed .

She was so pleased that I was from England 
She said my accent sounded like a song 
She listened intently to my story 
Then bluntly told me where I'd been going wrong .

There's a nice hotel in town if you are staying 
You can pick me up at seven by the door 
You're a nice guy but I hope you don't mind me saying 
No guy ever needed my help more .

I drove her to that honky tonk at seven 
Those jeans so tight I swear they're made of paint 
With every word she spoke I felt I was in heaven
Those green eyes would make the toughest cowboy faint.

We danced then I sang her a ballad 
My rendition of always on my mind 
We kissed and we talked for hour on hour
Never have I met anyone so kind .

I walked her safely to her front door
A ranch style house on a leafy avenue
She gave the kind of kiss that shook me to my core
The strangest most beautiful woman I ever knew .

In the days that followed I found Texas 
It was everything I ever thought it could be
and all the while my wonderful honky tonk angel 
Was right there sharing every sweet moment with me .
 


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The Angel Of Death

As I walk this earth 
Bare and broken
Blood soaked and driven
My soul in supernova
My mind, frenzied.

My body bruised
My sword well used
Nostalgic, 
Breathing in fresh paint 
From beaten bodies and torn souls 

Sudden movement
A quivering soul
A careless action
My attention
To hold. 

A smile drapes
Bearing into my soul
The world disappears
My deathly hunger
Implores.

Slow and pleasuring 
Each clink of steel 
Warms my heart 
Sweetly,
Mending my soul

First blood, 
A lonely bead 
Inviting my wrath
It trickles 
No warning sold.

Teasingly, it lays in waiting 
Pulling me closer
Lonesome 
Begging almost 
To bring more 
  
An abyss, 
It draws my victims in 
Craving, wanting, yearning 
To feel bloodied flesh 
Broken 
Against my skin
Irrevocable
A fear, I sense 
Another victim to claim

Pleasure streams 
Anticipating
Envisioning,
Blood oh glorious blood
My eyes feeling, each soul I’ve claimed

A vulture stalking its prey 
Bloodthirsty
Yet again
Imperative, a mission
Deep wanting, to quench

Valiance, a virtue, I dare not detest  
Submissive, he glares eye to eye
His being laid not to rest

Unsteady, yet giving.
My hands he guides to my sword
Thrilling me more 
A kiss so chaste
My heart explodes

Like a child 
I revel, 
Rapture so pure 
Beautifully he whispers 
“Be a sinner no more 

Take my soul
Gruesomely, I beg 
Treasure the blood
That my body 
So willingly sheds 

Your craving 
To sate 
I was born to the earth
Release your demon 
Release it form its depths 

Stay hidden no more
Bare, naked, run free
Believe it not a disease
But a gift 
As I see.

Unsheathe your sword
Glorious, shall it gleam
Purified, ready 
Through my heart 
Shall it go.” 

Ecstatic,
Pleasure shudders through me.
A kiss I lay 
Goodbye, my dearest 
Your debt has been paid.

By
Amanda Miller 
{This is to a new friend , a faceless being 
that brings out the person hiding in me }


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Chocolate Cutie

She is the All-American girl.
She is beautiful beyond compare.
She is just ten years old but thinks she is grown.
She talks a mile a minute all the day long.
Her laughter is so very infectious.
She is slim and trim, she is full of vim and vigor.
She cannot stand still, she is always on the run.
Her name is Gabrielle Genevieve although she prefers GiGi.
Her skin is the color of the finest chocolate candy.
Her clothes of choice are of the brightest colors in the universe.
She is as smart as smart can be, she is as sharp as a tack.
Her mother calls GiGi her lovely earthbound angel.
She is the daddiest girl of all the daddy’s girls.
Her father calls her his sweet little chocolate cutie.



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The People Around Me

Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.

Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.

My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered. 

In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised, 
But it is to be called someone, 
Who can be respected.

To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.


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The Abstract Angel

her wings do spite her

her soft lips beckon

behind them, shearing mouth does wait-
her black and white heart loves to hate

her claws tear at my flesh-
with soft hand wrapped in lacey mesh

her skin glows with light-
her scales as dark as night

my heart she handles with gentle peace-
then devours with ferocious teeth

this angel, her wings do spite her


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REMEMBER ME

When you don't know how many tomorrows you'll have, 
You tend to focus in the immediacy of today;
A homeless child just trying to survive.
Rummaging through dump rubbish every day.

Another afternoon in this hellish forsaken place, 
Ankle deep in garbage scavenging a dinner plan;
Feeling particularly weak and sick on my stomach, 
When a large group pulled up in two white vans.

The slide doors of these vans opened fast, 
And well dressed people jumped out in a hurry;
Honestly, I was glad that I wasn't too close, 
They were strangely awkward, I was worried.

The group spoke a different language, 
I think they were from The United States;
Most of them were snapping pictures, 
Which is something I do not appreciate.

They were drinking cold bottles of water, 
What I'd give just to have a taste;
I'd be happy with a half empty hot bottle, 
In this sewage minefield of trash and waste.

One of the strangers seemed different, 
There was something about his eyes;
He seemed to look right into my soul, 
As I stood there swatting away flies.

It's hard to describe what I was feeling, 
Although little time had actually passed;
There on that filthy hill I felt a bonding, 
I remember wanting this moment to last.

On his face I saw sadness and passion, 
He could tell I was a boy totally broken;
Existing day to day on this stench heap,
We were talking but no words were spoken.

Then someone in the group said something, 
And the group quickly boarded up to go;
Except for the one locked in on me, 
From the vans they shouted "Come on, Joe!"

He ran to the van.. and grabbed something, 
Then with sensed urgency he rushed over to me;
The kind stranger delivered two ice cold waters, 
His contagious smile was large and friendly.

As he turned to go I tapped him on his shoulder, 
He swung around I was shocked to see tears;
I felt a simple pure love from this angel,
Who from out of nowhere suddenly appears.

Walking back to the van he turned and waved, 
I took a long drink to salute.. no longer thirsty;
The rest of my life this moment sealed in time, 
For him as well, I think Joe will always remember me!

For Sheri's "Out Of Water" Contest
*He gave more than a Drink.. He gave Dignity! 

Narrative Poem 
From the city dump in Puarta Plata, Dominican Republic

Poet: Lyric Man


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Beautiful Bloody Angel

Bloody fetus in a jar 
I buried her, at sixteen years old.
My heart crumbled for the very first time. 
I want to know her skin,
Every smile line, every dimple, 
Every scar that has yet to fade like and incision too deep on my lung
I can’t breathe.
I want to know her scent
And I dream of it like it is the breeze of the coast
I can feel the vibrations of the ocean smacking against my skin
Weeping, rapping, weeping, rapping,
Weeping
As I fall to my knees. 
I want to know. 
what you meant
when you said to me “Baby I’m gone”
gone home
running home
gone home
ill go
wherever you are 
I want to know.
I want to see the crop farmers clapping to the weight of wind 
Let me in
To you
I want to know,
Your love.
Every opportunity that arises that meteor showers this millennium
And the way the clouds hide it all
Underneath their power to protect us from what,
From what.
Like the weight of the world fell on my shoulders
And the clichés clapped at the poet’s last line
And the heavens smoke glazed my eyes
As I stepped outside 
Put my thumb up for a ride
Because I want to know
The smell of dissatisfaction 
And the tingle of effective poison
And the embrace of a lost loved one
Up there, covered in clouds
That protect me
From seeing her
My sweet, sweet baby.
My beautiful bloody angel.
I want to know what it is like to forgive,
have my mind freed of all resentment 
and neglect of the happiness that went hidden into the frozen corners of my brain.
I want to know love,
to know contentment and stability and the light that rains on so many men,
so many women.
I want to grasp that.
I want to hold peace and press it against my chest.
I want to take God and cup him in my hands and scream
“Where Were You!”
Where have you been!
Where will you be when I am falling… or floating
Where will you be.
I want to know
Where is she.
Not just about that old mason jar buried in my garden
But God, did she fall or did she float?
Because I want to know
Because wherever she went I will go. 




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As a stranger I met you

As a stranger I met you
Pure and gentle was your appearance
You spoke a touch without words
A breeze so pure like light

As I listened with my eyes
I smelled the taste of beauty beyond honey
What a feeling?
An emotion lost within expressions
An experience of heaven's true Agape

Oh what an experience to share
A beauty whose light can't be gazed
A gift priceless to be bought free
Your touch so perfect to the broken

Yes your name is Love
Your nature perfect in quality and in glory
oh Eden's first language
You're that truth I can't hide 


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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


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My Angel

My Angel I prayed everyday Every moment I could I needed a partner or soul mate Well I really thought I would A real prince charming type Someone really true to love To replace all the loneliness Someone sent from above Instead He sent me an angel So handsome, gallant and kind Someone I could actually trust Better than I could ever find Not to be my soul mate Or even a boyfriend Just to be my angel A true God send To lift my spirits Helping with care Proving that he will Truly always be there My angel brings me comfort A true friend who has my back Like my prayers were answered Filling my void to remove the lack God gets the credit for sending my angel An angel wanting only kindness in return My angel was sent as a reward for good deeds For paying it forward, my angel I have earned I no longer worry about finding someone to love As I am treated special by my angel who is a gift This type of angel only comes once in a lifetime So blessings go to my angel for his spirits to lift Florence McMillian (Flo)


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The Woes Of Trust

An angel formed from 
lake of purity,a gift to 
mankind-illuminating 
darkest parts of hearts.
A chaste damsel,
untouched rose from the 
garden of the elves.

Sent to earth,made an 
abode in a gentleman's 
heart,whom she 
cherished and loved.

As time travelled,another 
fella whom she trusted 
lured her to un-saintly act
Her pride laid on altar of 
dishonor and infidelity.
Her life she almost 
snuffed,she feared the 
love of her true love 
would be lost. Alas! bond 
of love is indivisible.

Shattered,with a broken 
spirit she tries to mend 
the pieces....on the 
shoulder of her lover she 
leans,hoping to soothe 
her bruised heart.



Note:
A true story,a close 
pretty lady friend of mine 
was raped by her family 
friend yesterday...who 
called her and told her 
his mum was very sick.
She called me and 
confided in me .
Don't know whether to 
encourage her to call the 
police.


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Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



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Conversation with an Angel Part 3

“Yeah, all the way. No ride, no bus, just walkin’. I can’t quit till I give you your
message, and finish drawing this sand script so you’ll know I’m not lying.” I was shocked 
by what he was telling me. I looked around half expecting to see one of my neighbors come
out laughing and pointing and shouting “HA! You’ve been punked!” but no one was around;
just he and I alone. The man began to speak, and this is truly what he said, “You’ve had a
hard road to hoe, and life hasn’t always been fair in your eyes. But your angel wants me
to tell you not to give up. You’re finally on the right path. And he’s proud of you.”
“He’s a he?” I asked, stupidly. “Yes, he’s a he (as if I’d just asked the lamest question
of all time), now will you let me finish?” “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m just not used to men
drawing angels and giving me a message.” The man stopped what he was doing, and looked up
at me. The look on his face was as if he was thinking “If I had a quarter for each time I
heard that…”, but he said nothing. He went back to drawing, and was working on the detail
of the face and neck, drawing an outline of the shirt collar, and then back to the face. 
I knew this picture, but I couldn’t tell who it was, I kept thinking it must be a famous
person, why was it so familiar? “Your angel wants you to know, you’re not alone, he’s been
with you forever—since you were pretty much born. He’s sorry he left when he did, he knows
you needed him.” I just listened now, “You lost him when you were about 12, and life got
rough on you. He was there watching, and protecting you best he could.” I was stunned; I
could see who the face was now. Then the man stood up, and placed his hand on my shoulder.
He said these words, “He says to tell you, don’t be worried about buying that house,
you’ll grow old in it, and even though the world seems bleak, you’re going to make it. He
says you need to hear that, because he says you’re going to have a heart attack if you
don’t quit worrying.”


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Conversation with an Angel Part 1

                                                    Conversation with an Angel

I live in an average neighborhood, in Colorado Springs. I like to refer to my street as
the ‘all American street’. Most of the homes in my neighborhood were built between the
1890’s and early 1930’s. Our yards are reflective of our personalities, so I believe. An
eclectic mosaic of manicured and not so manicured lawns, xeriscaped, not so xeriscaped
yards fill the view as one drives down the road.  
We still say hello as we pass by, and many walk our dogs or just enjoy the company of a
loved one for an evening stroll. With Pike’s Peak as our back drop I think most of us feel
blessed to call our neighborhood home. 
One night while out walking about an hour before dusk, I noticed something not quite
right. A little out of place if you will; between the road and the sidewalk is a section
of yard for each home, about 10 feet from sidewalk to curb, with Elms and Oak trees
agelessly garnishing the street, I happened to notice a man about two blocks ahead, bent
down ‘doing something’ quite contently. Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess I was just
fixed on the length of time he was bent down. As I approached, I imagined what he was
doing, “an injured pet maybe or damaged sprinkler head”. As I came closer I noticed he’d
look up in my direction, and back down again. I had a sense that whatever it was he was
doing; he wanted to be done before I arrived. I picked up my pace, more curious than
worried. Finally, as I crossed the next street; he was within ears shot of a quick
“hello”. He looked up and nodded back, then down again at whatever he was doing. I could
make out his features and knew he was ‘not from around these parts’. It was summertime,
and his appearance was quite disheveled. His face was unshaven, not a beard, but a few
days growth, wrinkled and tanned as if he’d been homeless for a while. His hair was
tousled, bleached from the sun with wisps of gray. I found it odd, that he had on a long
tan rain coat, blue jeans and sandals with no shirt underneath.


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Internet Angel

	One day
Social Worker came
Said, received a call about me
Reported someone harassing me
Answered, worry not, “I’m fine”
[Eternal] God’s taking care of me.

Couple of days
Police detective came, Katie
Interviewed me
Took a copy of Cris picture
Even his son’s picture
Very worried
Brought 2 Social Workers
I took a test, told them the truth
She said, “Oh…He got scammed”
Told them not to worry,” I’m fine”
Said depending with test result
They’ll contact me
Never heard from them ‘til now
Told them “Father Christ got my back”


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Belle's Day

Little Preshy Preshy trying to impress hidden fresh buttons
So down to earth i could pick you up even if i fumble
You sister hood my hood-ness in me till my ears turn into functions
You child a sister with a train of smiles that bottle passion

In birth you must have had piles and styles of 
life's appreciated stanzas in all poetic judgments
I bow before your spirit, for you Queen your surroundings with pounds of outstanding heart flames 
Love should give you unexpected roses not stains
This poem is a gift i long to plant in your gifted chest believe me
Though words can never paint your born day in fine art sickness,
its my remedy
The world is field with smiley diseases of felonies

Take a flight to nowhere and return with more clans that know your temple
Press the birth button while killing fears
Impress Isabel with a doorbell for she cleans her heart with smiles far from cooler bags
Your circle is shielded by hugs and lipsticks
Impress Isabel with a doorbell for she cleans her heart with smiles not illegal favors 
Let Preshy Preshy row before her words start drilling bad manners in your day 
Happy day

(c) Raymond Ngomane

A dedication to Isabel's Birthday

Preshy Preshy : A nickname given to girls named Precious.


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he used to be an angel,,

Be careful who you trust, the devil, he was once an angel. His eyes once held a light that burned brighter than any star at home in the sky. His hands once held up weights so heavy but they would never fall. He was once the most beautiful, the most intriguing, he used to be everyone’s favorite. But then he fell, the light in his eyes had burned so long that it died out and the ashes made home in his mind. His hands dropped the weights, they are no longer strong enough to hold. He shattered and the shards of glass embed themselves in his skin, maybe that’s why he is a match that lights with a single strike. He no longer knows love and humanity, only regret and hatred, his heart is no longer beating, he is not my favorite, darling he is yours, and I beg you to run as fast as you can because his fire will only burn out.


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The Unknown Angel

I am only a mere mortal.
Near total perfection even my reflection is afraid to stare.

Exit reality through a portal,
between Heaven and hell up three flights of stairs.
"I shall call this place Earth", I said
to a group of ten who just witnessed a universe's birth.

Here we will rejoice and love one other
Even though our blood is not one you are thy brother.

We all are one forever and after
pain with joy, sadness with laughter.

Above a light serves us with endless life,
to wage war with death is a meaningless fight


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God IS Real Miracles Happen

God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears


God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles 
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters 
Times were tough 
But he didn’t give up
Unpaid rent 
Eviction notes 
His bills were overdue  
No water, no power 
He used GOD as his source; and  
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock 
He opened his door, but no one was there 
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat 
A rent paid receipt 
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped 
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this: 


For your time and effort given 
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.

I restored your power, to give you energy to write.

I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.

I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present. 

Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.


I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness  
There lies a ray of light 
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get 
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight 
The battle is already won
Just believe.


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Son of the Morning

Once, he had the most brilliant light
In Heaven, he'd been the star even at night
The most favored, the most beautiful
He never thought one day he'd become a fool

He was always pure, never felt insecure
Until Heaven borne one special creature
And the angels cried, the angels wondered
What would happen if they are no longer favored?

Angels watched as Heaven gave the man a special woman
My beloved one walked away, flame in his hand
Why the special gift for a man made in soil?
That was when anger and envy started to boil

The most beautiful star sat alone in silence
Heaven's in peace, can he dare start a violence?
Yes, he would for the love of Heaven
So he called all his beloved brethren

War would never do good for anyone
He knew from the sight of blood in his hands
And stared at the ground where his brethren laid
From the bloody battle, my beloved angel turned away

His wings unfurled, made of pure Heaven and glory
They were as black as night, magnificent and lovely
He made once last glance as he begun to descend
He knew he made a mistake he could never amend

It was his nature, no other pleasure than flying
But his heart broke knowing that he's falling
He landed to the ground, broken and wounded
Tears from his eyes, he felt ashamed and abandoned

He stood alone in the middle of the night
His wings dimmed, slowly fading its light
For the first time, he felt the rain on his skin
And for the first time, he shivered from the coldness of the wind

He looked up and saw his brethren
Why did they follow him, he's a Fallen
They bowed their heads, still loving him
So he decided, He's Lucifer and no longer the Son of the Morning


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A Gullah Angel

“Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”- - Longfellow

Charleston, SC
After the Old Bethel church had been in decline for many 
years it was moved to its present location for the Gullah. 
A smell of salt always in the breeze, the sound of waves 
crashing on the rocks may be heard.

He stands in the old adjacent cemetery looking at a grave,  
adorned by an ebony angel, a tear falls as the wing tip is touched.  
My story was in a different time and place, a different culture even.
Taking place in 1881 long after the terrible division was over. 
Yet the landmarks, preserved from that war lingered, 
even as they took on new meaning and significance.  
The churches were all touting “demon rum”
while the temperance leagues marched.
With drum and cymbal they moved, 
from church to levee, up the banks
and through the square where the Citadel stands.
Then turning left through the heart of Charleston
to stop at the open market place,
where everyone gathered in the long hot evenings.
The church not segregated then, the Gullah 
attended along with the whites- - 
more for show and display of wealth, than for religion. 
For that they would reserve Sunday evening
and a larger church in the heart of town.

He lived adjacent to the church, beyond the graveyard.
The first time he saw her, she saw him first.
When he looked up and caught the stare
the most amazing look of rapture came over him.
Both were embarrassed and neither could speak.
He finally composed himself and invited her to come into the garden. 
After a short fiery relationship her swollen condition
prompted the church to intervene.  
It was on the verge of ostracizing both of them 
when she slipped on the rocks of the jetty. 
As he tried to save her she delivered a son.
In all the confusion and darkness, and because of her weakened 
condition he could not save both of them and she died.  

His Great Grandfather lived and so continued the long line 
on down through his grand babies. This one would not have known her 
even had she lived to a ripe old age.  But the fact of love denied to
these two young people in that moment in time, has been told and
retold down the generations.  Sometime, in the lifetime of each 
generation, the statue has been visited to keep a promise that is made 
by every son of every son. 

Sept. 29 2011 Charles Henderson
For Constance's "Church by the Ocean" contest




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Final Plea

Inspired by the untimely deaths of young people I knew. RIP


In a dream, tonight would be my last

and I demanded to talk to God.

Of all the things I've gotten past,

to go now seemed so odd.

"You've taken all my friends you see

and now you want me, too?

Unlike one who pretends to be

I've always honored you."

Those sinners who outlive me still,

all I have to ask is how?

It mad me question His very will.

Why take a good man now?

But God just sat and let me rave

on and on about my worth

and why I didn't need a grave,

but rather eternity here on earth.

Pride let my voice be rather loud.

He never said a word.

I told of deeds that made me proud

and good things that I'd heard.

And when I tired He simply said,

"No doubt your life's been good.

But many younger are now dead

and their legacy simply would

be the song that is never sung,

no children call them dad.

for they came to me so very young

and left the world confused and sad.

Yet now your time has come as well

and selfish thoughts are all I hear?

Your life was full and I can tell

it's really death you fear.

Just remember that you have no choice,

for you all will one day die.

Be strong and with a humble voice

tell loved ones they can cry."

And in that moment I knew a peace,

and I felt a tear well up inside.

That most feared was now the least

as my selfish motives died.


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LISA'S IVORY MUSIC BOX

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


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Conversation with an Angel a conclusion

I grabbed her arm and drug her outside. “Man, have you gone crazy!?” She asked as I tugged her
along. I began to tell her of the experience I just had with this stranger, how he had
shared this message of an angel, but it really wasn’t an angel, it was my grandpa! I must
have been babbling, rambling, or just plain nuts. When we got to the spot where all of
this happened, there was nothing in the sand anymore. It was as if I’d dreamed the whole
thing up, the ground was untouched. I looked at my surroundings, was I on the right block?
Where had he drawn this picture? My wife calmly said, “Honey, if you say it happened I
believe you, but can we go back home, you can tell me there.” 
To this day, I’m convince of angels in more than one form…if I go much further, this will
turn into a novel, rather than a narrative…so I’ll leave it alone..God’s speed to all who
read and believe. 


By the way, I’m not nut’s it’s just a story…really!