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Narrative Son Poems | Narrative Poems About Son

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Details | Narrative | |

The Game, Playing the Game

'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?

I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you drove
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces

(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE!"... Yeah, you must have said that)

Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-when)

Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
It was 'perfect' timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)

I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you drove
that same short-cut road, that road you were driving
innocently driving....trying to get back home
 
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?


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Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning
I try not to wake him, though he stirs slightly
As I crawl out from the warmth of the covers.
I'm tempted to change my mind, and stay awhile longer,
But a glint of sunlight peeks through the blind and calls to me.
If I burrow down again, and drowse too long, 
This glorious time of day will be gone...until it comes again tomorrow.

I tiptoe quietly and begin the morning ritual.
The splashing of water on my face, of letting the dog out,
Of brewing the dark, hot liquid that will help to
Open my eyes and recharge my reluctant brain.

The inviting aroma finally wakes my senses, and after
The first sip, I begin to feel the desire to join the world again.
I go outside, step onto the weathered porch, down the steps,
Onto the wet grass to retrieve today's bundled news.
Within it comes a page-by-page account of disasters, obituaries and comics...
I decide to forego all that gloom, and lay the paper beside the front door.

Instead, I drink in the morning air.
The new day is slowly coming alive.  There's a slight chill.
This coolness will be baked away later, when the sun is high.
I pull my robe around me tightly, and sit down on the stoop.
Birds are chirping, and soon, I see that neighbors are beginning to embrace the 
day.
House by house, there is evidence that awakening has occurred.

A car is cruising by our  house.  The occupants, wearing their
Sunday best, and on their way to an early service to praise the Lord.
While some are sitting in pews, singing Alleluia,
A man down the street is starting his lawnmower.
Not mindful that the Sabbath is a day of rest,
Or that he may wake a late sleeper.

Inside my house, I hear the sounds of water running and dishes rattling.
Then someone calling my name.  In a moment he appears
Carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, one for him, and another for me.
He's come to see what this new day has offered, and sits down beside me.

We sit together quietly, and soak up the morning sun.
It wraps its warmth around us, like the bedcovers we had abandoned.
No words are needed to enjoy this moment.
However, toast and jam, and bacon await us.  So we turn and go inside.


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Equus

Let me explain how it all began; retrace with me
the sordid steps back to childhood pain.
Imagine an endless war: fanaticism shackled to atheism,
ongoing castigation, brutal flagellation,
guilt's spike rammed and jammed deep inside me.
A mocking crucified rictus leered above my bed,
peered at me, probed the shadow-dark corners in my head.
One night I tore it from the wall, lovingly replaced it
with the head of a haunting horse.
Its soul-sad eye-pools shone with empathy,
radiated liquid love in my loneliness, kept me company.
I loathed the trembling, timorous wretch I was,
fear-filthy and saddled with sin.
My only outlet and release was equine.
To escape, to feel freedom's blaze, I followed
enticing hoofprints across searing amber sand,
pressed my face into imprints
on the gold burnished strand.

Equus, son of Flequus, son of Nequus,
we galloped out together on tumultuous darkness,
his brawny neck jutting from between my vice-tight thighs,
the bit biting into tender, froth-flecked mouth corners,
his flying mane a white whip slashing my skin, spurring us on.
Rubbing my sweat-soaked self against the ripple of muscle
under silk-sleek flanks; the power plunge of thunder-hooves,
the lunge of sturdy shanks; his bludgeoning body
a white gash in the blackness. Aching-wet and wild
to be inside him, at one with him - a pounding union.

Nefandous nightmare stampeded at the stable door. Love became bestial.
I stroked them in strange, strangled dreams;
hauled them, mounted them, whipped them round
the blood-sticky straw of the stable floor.
Twelve coal-ebon eyes stared into a sinuous, skewed psyche,
accusing my urges, pillorying my perversions;
soul-stark, snaffling the bitter apple of blighted youth.
Those eyes - I had to put them out like snuffing stars.
Sorrowfully I sluiced sticky scarlet warmth from fevered fingers,
wretched with regret. But it had to be done.

I still see them: the six silky-flanked, softly snuffling ones;
spike-blinded, eye sockets oozing quiet crimson,
blood-roses blooming on their harrowed haunches.
You still batter me with questions, trampling
the dark dream-dust of my fantasies, seeking answers.
But I have learned how to sidestep neatly,
how to bury guilt and horror silently and discreetly.



*based on the stage play 'Equus'


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Coming of Age

My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.

He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”

In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.


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Jess and Mike

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."



There was a time when Jess was young, that we thought we were going to lose him.
It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors on one side joined the headaches.
Countless trips to the Doctor and days of having to leave work to go to his side at school to help him through the episodes.  I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CAT scan.  I think that the only reason that the Doctor agreed, was to shut me up.  But I knew in my gut, that these were not migraines as diagnosed.
The day of the CAT scan came.  I sat in an area that allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first, the techs were very chatty among themselves.  Then, stark silence.  As if a tomb door had been shut.  Then the words that still haunt me were said..."Oh shit"  on of the technicians whispered.   I closed my eyes and felt my heart cry out in its pain.

I sat in the Doctors office, waiting for him to come and tell me my son was fine.  That there was an error in the reading of the scan.  
He entered with his nurse, who was carrying a box of tissues and cup of water.
"Your son has an arachnoid cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain is not there.  In its place is a fluid filled sack.  The pressure of the filling fluid is causing all the symptoms.  He will need to undergo brain surgery."
I sat there....numb.  All I recall hearing are the words...Brain surgery.
The day of the surgery came.  His younger brother was with me in the waiting room. Too young to understand the gravity of the situation.  All he knew was that his brother was very sick.
Now, I want to take you to our sons Hospital room, post surgery.  
There he was, lying in the big bed.  White as the sheet that covered his small body up to his chest.  His head wrapped in bandages.  Tubes and wires everywhere.
As our son was waking up, his first words were  "Where is my brother?"
Mike flew to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand.  "I'm right here!"  he said.  
Very weakly, Jess was able to say  "I love you Mike."
Mike in turn said, "I love you Jess."
My tears that had never flowed through the whole ordeal finally came.   Not out of fear, but for the love that our sons had for one another.


Paula Swanson
8/20/2011
For the A Fragment Of Life contest
sponsored by Constance La France
Placement:3rd


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Longer Shadows of the Moon

He is caught between one life and another
while my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
We are like leaves, played with by the wind

O lengthening dark vision
reaching across our lives
It came, at last, without a sound...
his leave taking came without a word,
but we both heard it in the silence....

His world is in the palm of his hand
and my world is this moment that does not move

O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis

Never was he mine, never was he not mine
The child, no longer, child that bends and sways
My eyes reflect the clouds upon the sky
for he reaches out a hand upon my crown 
and I feel the gentle warmth upon my head

A knowing hand of man, not boy, that once I vowed to keep
must leave and know that I will weep
as if I am the child, ....not he,...instead 

O fortuna, velut luna 
Statu variabillis, semper crescis, aut decrescis;

I force a smile, and watch him fly away
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
never was he mine, never was he not mine






-----------------------------------
For Deb's Contest: Bi-Lingual
Latin translated
         ----
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
Velut luna (like the moon)
Statu variabilis (you are changeable)
Semper crescis (ever waxing)
Aut decrescis; (and waning;)                                
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)                     
 Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Corde pulsum tangite; (pluck the vibrating strings;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)


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A Christmas Conversation

Daddy, were you alive when Jesus was born?

No honey, he was born a long time ago, over 2000 years ago.

Where was he born Daddy?

In Bethlehem, a small town in the desert in a manger,

Whats a manger Daddy?

It's a place where they kept animals to feed them.

You see when Jesus was born the Inn was full, so 
they had to get Mary to a warm place to give birth to Jesus.
that was the only place they could go.

Daddy who is Jesus' Daddy?

God is his Father honey?

But who is Joseph?

The Chosen Father, who God chose to raise him, Mary's Husband

I don't understand Daddy!

God wanted a son, he could not have a son without Mary and Joseph's
help. God asked them both if they would help him, without even thinking
they said yes. God gave to them a great gift, God gave them Jesus.

At that moment God gave us all a great gift, He gave us the Son of Man.

The Son of Man Daddy?

Yes honey, you see God is not Man, not one you can touch, Jesus
was, he healed people who were sick, He showed people how to love God 
and how God loves them. There is one more important thing
I want to tell you honey.

What's that Daddy? Jesus did a coupla more things I think are 
important, there are many of course but two I like.

Go on Daddy!

Jesus taught us how to love without conditions, like the way I love you 
and you love me and your Mom and Brother. But how to love everybody
like that.  The most important thing is, is that he died because we humans
broke God's laws, which means we sinned. He died so God would
forgive us.


Wow Jesus really did love us didn't he Daddy...?

Yes he did baby, and the really good thing is he still does and always will.

Come on it's time for bed!

Not until I say my prayers Daddy!

How bout we Pray together tonight?

I'd like that Daddy!

So would I baby, so would I .

Jump up on my back and I'll give you piggy back ride!

I love you Daddy!

I love you too baby, I love you too.........





My Christmas wish is you all have Conversations like this with your 
kids. Trust me they bring tears of joy!

May God Bless you all this Christmas Season as he has Blessed me.

    From Mary, Josh, Shay and myself  MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR


                             With Love.....Taz


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William Kite, Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub

 
~~~Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite~~~ An all round performer was Mr William Kite He trained and rode horses, but also walked the rope tight He worked for Pablo Fanqué the Wells Circus owner in 1842 But his work gave inspiration for John Lennon to do. Mr William Kite would never have dreamed. That his skills as a performer would inspire a song theme As he performed on his head, while balancing on a rope A trumpet in his mouth, and he played a damn fine note. When he was with John Sanger, who was equestrian minded William appeared for a spectacular night, the poster has reminded The celebrated horse called Zanthus was even there With Mr William Kite to perform - boy what a pair This poster impressed John Lennon so... It inspired him to write about William and the show Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite, the poster does show Inspired quite a few lyrics as all Beatles fans will know. What they may not know - but I am impressed There is a man called David with whom I am blessed He is the great great grandson of William by whom Lennon was inspired But better than that David is my half brother it has so transpired.
The Beatles Album Cover is "Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub" which potrays the poster of Mr Kite


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My man

"Am I a man
 Pops"

"You are
 son

 My 
 Spider man
 My 
 Iron man,
 And when 
 I am old and frail son;

 I pray,

 My
 Superman"

His smiles and hugs
could not be bought


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Your golden hug

In each others arm’s
tightly embraced
with the warmth I receive from
no other…

these words from the depths of
his little heart,
past his precious lips:

“ I’ve been waiting for this Pops”

“What’s that son”,
while still wrapped in his warm grip
was mine query…

“Your golden hug Pops…
your golden hug”

Sigh,
as off to school he did trot


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Potawatomi's Beginning...

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

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

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


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Always My Baby

As I think back to yesterday, 
my vivid recall of your days of play.

I can still see you laughing as you ride your bike,
and all those expressions for the things you liked.

Now you are a man, and you stand so proud,
as you salute your commanders among the crowd.

Soon you will leave me for a far a way land,
filled with violence, and miles of sand.

Your dream has always been, to serve, and protect,
my son so proud of his country, with no regrets.

I pray for your safety, while wiping my tears,
your only nineteen, I can't hide my fears.

So tomorrow you will leave me, and your dreams fulfilled,
but you will always be my baby, and my life you thrilled.


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He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


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The Best day of My Life

I always thought that I knew love
How intense that feeling could be
But, you were my gift from above
Just exactly what I'd need

I never thought I'd be a mother
I thought that time had past
It was a shock to believe another
For I was pregnant at last

I was 39 at the time 
I felt kind of tired and old 
My doctor said that I was fine
And a child is precious like gold

It wasnt always very easy 
Being pregnant, working each day
Some times I'd get kind of queasy
But, eventually it went away

Tests, ultrasounds, bloodwork , all were fine 
An amnio to see if you were okay
Monthly appointments, filled much of my time
Everything was progressing each day

I worked until the day before
Your grandparents flew out to see
I was very ready, couldn't take no more
Wanted my child for just for me

Finally the day had come,when I was to see my son
I got up early, got everything ready, even checked your room.
Slowly I drove to the hospital ,awaiting for the fun
For this was it what I had waited for, i'd see you before noon. 

At the hospital they readied me
A Doctor put a catheter in my back
My Mom and Dad rushed up to see
Their grandchild in a wrap

I told them of my nervousness 
How I forgot the words to say
So together we as a family
We were able to pray

I had to wait for a long time 
Emergency twins were on the way
They said I was next in line 
In the holding room was where I stay

So at 930 they brought me in to the room
They draped a sheet in front of my face
I hoped my head wouldn't  zoom 
I wanted to start this race
 
At 9:54 you came into my life
Your Dad ran to the end to see
The child that was bore by his wife
We became a family of three

My eyes filled with tears and I felt joy
It was all so new, I never had felt it before
Here's your child, perfect, handsome, and its a boy
For on that day my love for you grew even more

The bond between a mother and son
Is a story that can't be told
To look into your little eyes, I was overcome
My memories of that first time will never get old

So on this day when you had came 
Was the best day I could have ever thought
Never mind fortune and fame
To have a child is a lesson in life that can never ever be taught. 


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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.


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Scars Left Behind

Story of a boy.....

I was to go to bed at 8 that night
When there was firing at the door,
Heard mom gasp,"God save my son."
I had no idea of what was in store.
We ran to the basement and shut it tight,
Mom pointed to the passage where dad hauls in wood
Sternly commanded me to go
While still as stone there she stood.
The sinners banged the door hard,
Through the passage there was just room for me to fit
So I sat down and shook my head,
There was no way that on my mother I'd quit.
She looked at me in the eye and gave me a kiss
And said,"Darling please listen to me,
I love you so very much
As fast as you can, do get to daddy."
'I'll get Dad' I thought and started to crawl,
I had to hurry,the door had almost gave way too
Noticed a sharp thing in the way and stopped,
But mom, in haste pushed me through.
I yelped in pain as iron cut my arm,
But what hurt me more was the door falling with a 'thud'.
Scars on my soul left me nightmares for years to come
Mom's cries and final scream echoing as I ran in the mud.
Fifteen years later, in the same but better town,
I show my arm to my wife and say
"If not for these scars I was left with
I would be with mom today."

-Sadaf Syed


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Proud As A Peacock



My son Scottie and me Are like two peas in a pod The word “clone” certainly comes to mind His humour is the same His carefree look at life matches mine There is no mistaking Scottie boy is my son He's also inherited my creative genes Following in his Daddy's footsteps A techie version of his old man Did I mention I'm proud of my Scottie Does a bear poop in the woods Of course I'm proud as a peacock I love this boy! He's now in his late forties But he will always be my boy! © Jack Ellison 2014


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MAMA CAT AND HER GANG

My son and his family drove down from the big city,
out to the countryside with open fields and steams.
They brought their standard golden poodle along, 
a curly-haired fellow, name of Timmy.
Timmy had never seen a cat;
not even a mole or a furry rat.
Visiting country kin, he was checking things out.

Everything went fine that very first day.
Cats went about paying him no mind.
He walked about just passing time.
On that second day there was a big mistake.
Being a city dog with more worldy ways,
to add pleasure to his hum-drum days,
he thought it time to befriend these country kin.
 
The cats had never seen a dog this small,
only those on stilts, big, long and tall, 
like Pyrenees, big wide mouths and teeth to match.
With barking big dogs on the scene,
up a tree they squirreled, never to be seen.
But this golden-haired fellow, with city clout--
they’d give him benefit of instinctive doubt.

Mama cat was even so bold 
to sniff this city slicker right on the nose.
Sizing him up all the while, a friendly rat, she surmised,
a might bigger than some she had seen,
playing cat and mouse, yet acting so coy;  
that is, until that overgrown golden-haired rat  
walked up to Mama’s black baby boy.

Mama’s two other sons, another black and a blue,
began to gather nearer this city dweller, too.
Timmy politely extended his nose.
black son cat extended his razor-sharp claws,
with a bristled tail and fierce hissing jaws. 
Timmy let out with a painful yelp,
as Mama cat called all boys in for help.

Cats surrounded and gave chase to the dog,
life-fearing circles around the cedar tree he’d log;
four hissing cats hot on his tail,
poor Timmy yelping in a desperate wail.
The master of Timmy gave rescue,  
but Mama cat and her three grown sons,
strutting in pride, putting a dog on the run. 



Written by:  Carolyn Henderson
For Constance LaFrance's Cat Poem Contest
Won 9th Place


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GOODBYE MAMMA

Although you never knew it,my LOVE was always there;there were many who did tell you,I 
was a son who didn't care.But lifes a funny journey,some parts are good and bad;your 
passing without warning,has truly left me sad.I'll pray to God to give you,all the LOVE you 
hadn't here,lets hope we meet in HEAVEN......so I'll see you MOTHER Dear. ~ Princefreakasso

Your broken hearted son PRINCE!

Mother decided to die without saying goodbye,didn't give me the opportunity;to shed a single 
tear or cry. 

My mother passed away a short while back and I was too late for her funeral.Just got to put 
some flowers and light some candles at her grave.Let's hope the good Lord blesses and 
keeps her until we meet again.


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Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
	

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.


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The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.


Details | Narrative | |

don't be afraid

DON’T BE AFRAID
I live to please you, 
I live to see the best in you
You and I are the best match
Havens have open mountains
Heavy rains ought to end us
But don’t be afraid

I have created tents to keep you safe
The safest place for you is in my heart
Where only my thoughts and blood play
My blood oozes with oxygen and love
Don’t be afraid this love is forever

I have devoted all my love to you
The clouds have surrendered its beauty for us
This is all for you
So don’t be afraid

This is the love that children will fantasizes 
This is the love that you wished for
Your wishes have come true


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Family

A decade in to
a new millennium,
a woman, nearing
a century on Earth,
braces herself in
a doorway of
the house,
she has lived in since birth.

Her oldest son unfastens his belt, and takes a seat at the end of her table,
where her middle son just fixed the legs of the chair; to make sure it was stable.
Her youngest son brushes the webs off the wall, and scrubs the stains from the floor.
Her only daughter packs up her pictures, and helps her through the door.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a life, almost
a century long,
comes flooding back
to the thoughts of a woman
who feels removed 
from where she belongs.

Her daughter tries to lift her spirits, (from the room in which, she slept as a child)
but no one could easily witness their memories, all being sorted, and filed.
Her house is dissected, and put in a truck that waits - like a thief - in the drive.
-The cumbersome stance; the delicate dance; together, they help one another survive.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a woman approaches
a century - passed.
A man in the attic
waves from the window -
Assuring her: 
This home will not be her last.


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Look Memaw

Look Memaw!

I went outside when my grandson called me.
Down the wheelchair ramp I walked while looking.
I glanced all around, left and right, searching.
Then, I heard it, his wee small voice saying,
“Look, Memaw, I am up here in the tree!”
To my surprise, I had to look way up.
Not ten feet, not twenty feet, thirty feet –
Yes, tiny as he is, he climbed that high.
Afraid to show alarm, that he might fall.
I laughed and said, “What are you, my primate?”
“What’s a primate?” he asked curiously.
“A monkey, a primate is a monkey.”
After I responded, he replied, “No.”
With great pride, adding, “I am a tree frog.”

© February 29, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen



© February 29, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Narratives Free Poetry 
Sponsor	Catie Lindsey


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El tren hacia el olvido part 3

"hola" (nino pasajero del tren)
Hola donde estan tus padres chiquillo
"No le hables ha ese tipos de persona mi hijo" le dijo la madre al nino "ellos no son como
nosotros criatura, ellos son una maldicion del mundo"
Me preocupa la ignorancia de las personas sobre clase sociales
Dios las comprenda
Ya que a mi, se me hace imposible reconocer tal ignorancia de tan magnitud
pero bueno sigamos con mi regreso a Nueva York
regresando a mi ciudad lo primero que hice fue correr a la casa de sus padres
LLegando a esa casa 
color casi mostaza con ventanas blancas 
me sorprendi mucho al ver que nada habia cambiado
Demaciadas memorias se me venian a la cabeza
Como cuando eramos ninos y hasta el primer beso que nos dimos
Finalmente, me arme de valor y toque la puerta
El mayordomo contesto la purta y me dijo "Muchacho(George)""Que desea? A aqui no empliamos
a personas como usted"
Y yo le conteste-No, no busco empleo yo busco a Sandy
Y el me contesto "Sandy" "La senorita Sandy se esta casando hoy mismo en la Iglesia de San
Pedro"
No podia entender lo que estaba pasando
Sentia un dolor tan grande
Como si me huvieran enterrado un punal en el corazon
Y las lagrimas se me salian de los ojos enevitablemente
Pues sentia un savor bien amargo en toda la boca
Asi sali corriendo hasta la iglesia 
Ya que estaba lloviendo no se si corria mas rapido por la lluvia o por la deseperacion de
ver a verla 
Aun que fuera por ultima ves
LLegando a la iglesia havia un rotulo que decia "NO NEGROS ALLOW""NO PERSONA DE COLOR ES
PERMITIDA"
Mas yo entre a fuersa y asi luchando con los guardespaldas llegue hasta en medio de la iglesia
y la gente conmovida y sorprendida decian "Que hace este mulato en la iglesia"
Y alli estaba ella luciendo como una reina
Mas me fue suficiente con verla una ves mas y asi sali de ese lugar
Sin mirar atras ni a los lados
Nada mas pensaba desaparecer y no volver nunca mas
Asi fui hasia la estacion del tren y compre un voleto con destino hasta la ultima parada
crusando el pais entero
LLegando ala estacion, una mujer de vestido blanco color perla y de sombrero igual me toco
el hombro y me di vuelta
Voltiandome ella se quito el sombrero y sus ojos brillaban como el mar brilla al resplandor
del sol.
Ella me pregunto si necitaba compania
Me abrazo y me dio un beso y asi partimos juntos en el TREN HACIA EL OLVIDO
Sin importar la clase social y lo mas importante
de que color era nuestra piel.........


DIOS ES AMOR Y TODOS SOMOS IGUALES PARA EL...


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The Saturday After

My first concern was to contact family, friends and employees that might be in the 
immediate vicinity of the event.  We are one of those lucky stories where my wife 
had a doctor’s appointment and did not go to work that morning, otherwise - well, 
I’d rather not think about otherwise.

Given what I do and where I was living at the time, I spent the rest of the week  
trying to find corporate real estate immediately available for occupancy and doing 
interviews.  If you do a web search on my name and “eagle rock” you can still find 
some of those articles.

Early Saturday morning, I took my one son who still lived at home onto the city to 
volunteer our assistance.  We took the Jersey City ferry into midtown.  At first, we 
made our way to the Javits Center where volunteers were to gather.  Even at 6:30 
in the morning this place was pure chaos with hundreds of people wandering 
around with no organization.  

We decided this was a lost cause and started walking down towards the World 
Trade Center.  What a surreal experience this was.  For 30 blocks we walked down 
the middle of NYC streets without any traffic in site.  No taxis; no cars; no buses; no 
pedestrians.  It felt like a scene out of a science fiction movie with NYC totally barren 
of life, save for the two figures making their way downtown.

A few blocks from downtown, we were met by roadblocks.  We walked up and down 
a few streets to see if there was any place we could be of service.  We came upon a 
street with a man on the other side of the blockade handing out water bottles to 
rescue workers returning from the WTC.  We asked the police officer if we could 
assist the man and he let us inside the barrier.

The supply of water bottles was getting low so I gave the man $200 and he went 
off to purchase more.  Meanwhile, my son and I handed bottles of water to rescuers 
covered in sweat and soot.  Over time, a crowd started building up behind the 
barriers and people started cheering and clapping for each rescue worker as they 
came up to get some water.

Somehow, whenever the water bottle supply got low, a new supply arrived.  My son 
and I spent hours handing out water to tired and thirsty rescue workers as the 
crowd grew and the cheering increased.  It was just our way of providing what little 
help we could and it helped us, personally, come to terms with what had taken place 
in our own backyard.

This year marks the 10th anniversary of that tragic day on September 11.  I hope we 
never forget.


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Soccer Crazy

Soccer was the thing for all young men to play.
And my little love wanted to join desperately in the game.
So he got to be the goalie… to wear that special crown.
He was so excited as he was sent in front of that net.
And we were so very proud of what this honor surely meant.
I told every one he was my son and we couldn’t be prouder of him, than that.
But it didn’t take long for him to feel lost as his friends went running in the game.
So alone, he started kicking at dirt clods and looking for bugs with which to play.
Then he spun in circles and showed off for some girls in every way…
So the girls were sent to help keep his eye on the ball… as best they could.
For he had been paying attention to them, as the first goal went sailing through…
At this point I said oops and boys will be boys… as I smiled, though in doubt…
But it got better as he suddenly started exploring the net, and I heard a shout…
He’d decided to play spider man as he ran and threw himself at the net.
He tried to cling up higher with every jump he brilliantly took.
As I was waving my hands back and forth while trying to tell him to cut it out…
I was getting really frantic, trying to tell him that the ball was coming close…
But he was half way up the net as the next goal came sailing past to score.
Now my head was in my hands for the team kids were looking kinda sore....
For now they had to run their hearts out… to try to win the game and score.
I began to wonder if the team would ever forgive him if they lost?
The coach made two more visits to try to get his attention at any cost…
He really was quite kind as he said in no uncertain terms to leave the net alone…
And so, my son paid attention for another moment or more, you know…
But while everyone was running and scoring at the other end…
I turned to see him hanging upside down, his foot caught in the net, up in the air.
Everyone ran out to save him with me… or was it to save the net?
When we got back to sit down the coach was looking a little strained.
And I was contemplating hiding under the bleachers as the other team scored, again.
At half time, my little goalie seemed happy relegated to the bench with all his friends.
But I was worried he might be… kicked off the team… I was in terror, my friend…
At this point, several turned to assure me every thing would be all right...
After all, last year it had been their kid’s turn for… hanging upside down...


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Hugger

He woke and he got down on the creaking knees

He didn't know if God listened but  tried

His grandson was in a coma and God was asleep

But he said the prayer but  was afraid of the silence

God was the great politician in the sky

And his son Jesus would listen to the poll

When there was trouble God was the first name

Grabbing  his coffee he humbly turned to God

In his eyes it was humbly but he loved the sugar

As he sat stirring and  sweetened  thoughts 

The prayers flowed with his coffee

"Maybe God only listens to the regulars"

And he definitely wasn't one

It was  years and God was famished

The whispered prayer ended with death and the anger

"Why did you not take me"

"I have lived and gladly would take the grandson's place"

The pastor warmed up and the sisters hummed

The cup spilled over as the prayer of the faithful

He became a hugger and he covered each drink 

And the Irish believed in wake and liquor

He hugged the people tight and the salt became a scab

And God left him there with his drink


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Purpose we are on earth

We are on earth to know To love Eternal God To do good according to His will And to go someday in heaven Human being means to come from Eternal God To go back to Eternal God The Truth is Our origins goes back farther than our parents Our parents are Eternal God’s tool For us to be on earth Sometimes we feel our Creator is near Sometimes we feel nothing at all So that we might find the way home Eternal God sent His Eternal Son Who freed us from sin Save us from the Eternal Father’s world destruction Eternal God, wanted to destroy the world Depressed People He created were sinning Eternal Son stopped Him Eternal Father is Yahweh Means “I AM” Eternal Son is Jesus Christ He is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church We call Catholic priest, father Represent Father Christ He is the Highest Priest The Eternal Father is in Him Jesus Christ is Father Christ He is the way The Truth The Life 4092013


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So Much Love From God

God loves me so much From the heavens above He has truly given me So very much love Different types of love Each starts like a seed That grows deep inside Creating a special need First the undying love Is where it all starts With Jesus Christ placed Perfectly in my heart Then the individual love Of being one’s self As God made me to be Like no other one else The peaceful calmness That nature shares Offers the serene love To wash away cares The caring love of parents Is such a wonderful gift So many others have not And their spirits I try to lift The loyal love of siblings I am very thankful for Even with lives apart Our love is evermore Enduring love comes from My wonderful large family No matter the ups and downs They never give up on me The precious love of children My most cherished gifts of all Though my angels have all grown They are to me little dots so small The kind love of in-laws Is such a bonus I am given Making my loved one’s lives All worth a reason for living The joyous love of grandchildren Each a true blessing from above Bubbling joy flows from them all Filling me with a delightful love The devotional love of pets No one could closely compare To the never ending devotion That will always be there The faithful love of friends With truth of consistent fact I can always count on them To be there to catch my back True passionate love of a man I thought would never bloom I only dreamed of how it’d be So wonderful I would assume Now that I’ve been touched By the true passion of a man I feel the dreams come true Feeling so wonderful ‘tis am All these gifts of love God gives to me within Are opened very carefully As each is specially given For a seed of love to grow Takes patience and then some I enjoy each moment of growth As there is so much more to come Florence McMillian (Flo)


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Una Visita con Mama -- A Visit With Mama

We walk the rocky shore
and you lean heavily on me,
Mother, bruising my balky arm --
muttering "Ay, Hijo!";
a few steps and, breathless,
we are both exhausted.
Your once-brown eyes, gone gray,
are like concentric rings
rippling from a random stone
thrown into a polluted pond
in winter: eyes as flat
as the latex paint that
coats a cheerless rented room.
Cataracts circle your lenses;
they have a ruptured look --
purple, jellied -- like the eyes
of a dead fish, which I poke,
perversely fascinated.
It is puffed and rotten.
Your eyes are puffed, too, red-rimmed,
moist with tears that brim over
though you try to blink them back.
That you love me and I you,
and that we wish to extend
our time together, is clear --
as clear as the black water
in the pond, as clear as your
cataract-clouded eyes,
as clear as my conscience
when I drop you at the Home,
cleverly inventing an important
meeting, to which I hastily fly.


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Letter to Poor Dad

Hallo my friend
Pardon my intrusion into your domain
But you see, I am a student in the University of Life
Whereby I am pursuing a Doctorate Degree in the Science of Successful Living
As I was submitting my thesis of research into your life
It occurred to me that I might as well write to you directly
To save my notes from gathering dust on a professor’s shelf

Poor Dad
The notion that you are poor is a fact I cannot deny
So I will not try to convince you otherwise
This is actually in concern of your son
You and I know that he is a good innocent child
And I know better than you that he is at a pivotal stage in life
As of now you possess so much influence over the direction his life will take
For in as much as you may not be proud of yourself in front of your peers
...who overcame similar past to make something better of their lives
	...your son is very proud of you
He looks up to you with wondrous trust
And it only befits that you should be his hero
But being a hero comes with something which you are known to fear – 
RESPONSIBILITY

Well, I am not going to advise you to be responsible
For I know you live in denial mode, so you’ll look for the easiest way out
I will instead ask you to be a truthful teacher
Be brave and accept your mistakes
Then teach your son of the painful lessons you have learnt from your failures
Teach him not to limit his thinking to the unfortunate reality you have cast him into
But to dare to believe in himself
...and to listen to his heartbeat and follow its guide
Tell him that poverty is in fact a blessing 
That from it he can create vivid reference of what life will be 
...if he doesn’t diligently work in pursuit of his greatest dreams
Teach him to use his limitations as the source of motivation
And then tell him you believe in him 
...and that he can be whatever he chooses to be
As long as he tries his honest best to be it
Tell him you support him fully, especially emotionally

The reason I am asking you to teach him
Is because the secret is that of what one is keen to teach
...he is guaranteed to learn even more than he knew before
In you teaching your son honest lessons from your heart and past
You will retrace your steps to where you got lost yourself
You will be possessed by renewed desire for success
Of your selfless and candid teachings to your son
...will emanate insurmountable delights
Dear poor dad, 
It’s time to be a real dad
And you son holds that key... earn it and use it


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New Years Eve in the ER

The doctors and nurses in the Emergency Room prepared themselves for the 
longest night of the year – New Year’s Eve going into New Years day.

As morbid as it may be, they even had a pool going to guess the time of the first 
alcohol related incident to come into the ER.  He had 11:30.  The clock showed 
11:00.  All was quiet, except for the broken leg in pod 1 as the result of a young 
man falling off of a ladder putting up New Years decorations.  This patient had not 
even started drinking yet.

They heard the sirens in the distance as the radio call came in announcing two 
ambulances were on their way with victims from a car crash – 11:15, Nurse 
Thompson’s entry in the pool.

Dr. Sampson took the first patient, a 30-ish man, conscious with blood streaming 
from his head.  The smell of alcohol was prevalent.  His patient was a young woman 
on a respirator with IV’s already in place.  Walking beside the rolling stretcher was 
her husband, holding her hand, tears running down his face as he said, “We were 
on our way here.  Her water broke at about 10:00.  This guy ran the red light and 
slammed right into us.  Is she going to be okay?”

An ER social worker took the husband to a waiting area as the doctor began barking 
out orders to nurses and attendants in assistance.

The drunk driver, of course, would be okay – for some reason, they usually always 
are.

The husband and would-be father sat sobbing as police officers led the offender out 
of the hospital and into their waiting patrol car.  No word yet from the team working 
on his wife and child.

He heard fireworks from outside the window in the waiting area and could hear a 
few, “Happy New Years” being shared by doctors and nurses in the hallways.  

New Years was also welcomed in in the Central Time Zone, Mountain Time Zone and 
Pacific Time Zone before the doctor walked out to meet the husband in the waiting 
area.  The look on the doctor’s face said it all.  The social worker joined them as the 
doctor simply said, “I’m sorry.  We could not save your wife – but your son is doing 
fine.”

The news crew that was at the hospital to report on the first baby born in 2011 
decided to cancel their story.  Nurse Thompson did not collect the pool money.   The 
father was led to a room in the maternity ward where he fed his new son formula 
from a bottle.

Maybe, just maybe, someone will read this story and schedule to have a cab take 
them home from the New Years Eve party and this story can remain a fictional tale.  
Maybe.


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How Hard Could it Be Part 1

How hard could it be to take my first step?

“Come to mommy, you can do it.”

“Oh you're home. Hon, look at him go.”

As I take another step, he picks me up.

He hugs me tight but gently and kisses me on the cheek.

I feel so safe, loved and happy. Perhaps that's how it was.

(I really don't remember back that far.)


How hard could it be, my first day at school.

My mom meets me at the front door of the building,

hugs me and says, “How was your first day? Did you have fun today?”

He comes home after a hard day at work and mom says,

“Hi Hon, it was Den’s first day of school.”

He picks me up in his strong arms and says,

“I knew you could do it.” A hug and a kiss on the cheek.


How hard could it be to learn how to drive a car or a truck?

“Den, come with me. Let's take a short ride down the road.”

We both climb up into Dad's blue 1955 Chevy pickup.

He stops on the back road, gets out, comes around and says, “Scoot over. It's

your turn.”

I start the engine, push in the clutch, shift and we start out slowly.

I'm nervous, I speed up, clutch in, shift again.

Oh crap, I shifted into reverse, truck stopped abruptly and backfired.

Dad looks at me, “But you did it.“ He hugs me, a kiss on the cheek.


How hard could it be to go away to college?

I'm so glad she has a phone so I can call my mom and dad.

“Hi Den, how are things going? You've got a B average.

That's great. I knew you could do it. I love you, see you soon.”

“You met a girl? What's her name? Wow, see you soon. I love you”

“You want to marry her? Big step; in Holland? Okay, we love you.”

How hard could it be to have a family?

“Oh, it's a girl. Mireille, that's a nice name.” He hugs me, kiss on the cheek.

“Another girl, Michelle, that's a nice name too.” He hugs me, kiss on the cheek.

“You finally had a boy, Michael, good choice.” Hug and a kiss.

Birthdays, holidays, weekends, visits back and forth, phone calls.

He loves them all, unconditionally. Hugs and kisses all around.


How hard could it be as life goes on?

He watches them grow up, get married and have children.

He loves them all, unconditionally, hugs and kisses all around.

We take short trips and mom and Dad go with us now and then.

We go camping and mom and Dad visit us now and then.

Every time you left, hugs and kisses all around. Always, “See you soon.”


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A Sister's wish

"It has to be a girl," she had firmly announced,
My sweet little daughter, always craved for a sister!
So the news of a would-be sibling, did make her glad.
She had jumped and bounced.

"A girl would be perfect, boys are messy,
"I'd play my dolls with her and read princess stories",
Said my daughter, who was all girlie-girlie
She kept things in order, was neat and tidy, even a bit fussy!


She'd shopped for pink blankets, rompers, spoons and forks!
Smart girl that she is, she very well knew
"Babies don't come from hospitals nor gifted from temples
Neither are they dropped by visiting storks!"

She would be there for pregnant momma, a helping hand to lend.
She'd pat the sick mother and soothe her with a touch
Fetch her a glass of water
would not allow her to bend!

"My sis would look like me", so said Sara
Ecstatic she was about the brand new arrival
she promised even her stuff to share!
Found a rhyming name, "I'll call her Aura."

One fine day, mommy gave birth to a son
Hale and hearty, Sweet and chubby.
The family rejoiced but the sister said,
"Its not going to be fun."

"Give him back to the doctor, We won't keep this boy",
She said over the phone and with a frown on her face
She came visiting. Took the baby in her lap,
Saw his Angelic face and was filled with joy.

"He is cuter than any baby in the world can be", said she
Stroking her brother
"His skin is so soft and his fingers so tiny,
Well, we'll take him home, he looks just like me!"


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ME AGAINST MYSELF


                     

        A multitude of subjects clouded the fall,
         i tryed and i tryed but, couldn`t stand tall,
           i felt i didn`t have a friend on the earth,
            the feeling so bad i didn`t feel worth,

             Anything to anybody that i could see,
              but seeing it now,that wasn`t to be,
                my family and friends, were always there,
                  to stand beside me and show they care.

                    I met a girl,whom i later married,
                     rose my spirits,my soul was carried,
                       lifted up and now that cloud...
                        has brightened,my daughter and grandson and now grand daughter,i`m so proud.




Paul beadnall..29/6/11.. for contest "Me against myself"


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The Progress

He was so dull and lazy 
Frightened and hazy 
Never was able to mingle with others 
And he knows that he always suffers 
Tries to avoid the school 
Does not like to be called a fool  
He was not that much responsible 
For his behavior so intolerable
That is his form of a character 
Anyways, it does not matter  
And his father passed away early 
When he was a 2-year old baby 
Mother always was worried 
About his studies 
A small business she was running 
Needs her only son to get going 
And people make fun 
Of her hapless son 
So much obscure the childhood, is unbelievable 
As childhood is indeed enjoyable 
But for him it is a curse 
Six years later he changed gears 
He decided to work hard to improve 
He yearned for, something to prove 
That he can do it 
He started to look fit 
For he concentrated hard on studies 
And completed even the medical studies 
He is now a famous Doctor 
And a pediatrician for that matter 
His was the worse childhood 
And for him a bright future stood 
He is now enjoying his life 
He has kids from a beautiful wife  


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It Tastes A Bit Like Chicken

I wish to reminisce
Upon the bliss
Of triumph
And the agony
Of tragedy;
Are they not twin and twisted ends
Observed as life occured
In random spurts and trends?

To calculate and gauge his fate
Man did create
The chime of time;
One more illusion born
Inside the mystic mind.
But once accepted
Does become illusion now rejected
And reality's new find.

As time is heard to tock and tick
We do begin to ration it -
Evaluate and allocate
Each tick and tock upon the clock.

Life is lived by few
Observed by many
And understood by none -
Not one!

Though volumes have been written
And creative man is smitten
By the elegance of eloquence
In erudite philosophies
Combined with feeble prophecies;
Man still can only speculate and fabricate
More trendy theories empty of all consequence.

The bard of Avalon
Knew nothing new would ever be
Found underneath the sun;
And though the bard is gone
His truth lives on and on and on.

Man's emotional devotion
To dissecting every notion
Into tiny bits from bigger bits
Until he finds a bit that fits
Within his pre-dissection so prophetic wit of wits,
Has only gained mankind
A loss of nonexistent time.

And in another galaxy
Far, far away,
There is a sweaty desert prophet
Eating crawling things and calling
All inhabitants to suck on worms
And be reborn
In squirmy wormy ritual rebirth.
Their prophet is quite similar to one
Found once upon a time right here on earth.

The Prophet:

"Repent, repent,
Prevent, prevent,
And then repent again;
Then maybe the creator of this hot incinerator
Will awaken His forsaken self, procrastinator
Self, and will begin his job again creating good...forgiving sin.

Now crack this crispy critter's back till flat between your teeth,
There's nothing like a juicy, chewy bug to feed your love;
It tastes a bit like chicken say the bug gourmets beneath
The desert floor who rarely speak to we who live above.

Go save your soul and eat your treat
And I will stay right here to greet
The Son of the Creative One
Who says His work is never done;
But after all He is the Son
Of He who always needs to sleep
And blood can run in blood so deep
Such lazy ways may slowly creep
And leave the Son of One too weak
To carry on the awesome dawn
With all creative juices gone."


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GOD'S GARDEN OF LIGHT

I'm having to relearn. how to live my life
one day at a time, watching time go by
when you left me, my heart went numb
so many songs of tomorrow, will never
 be sung

a mother in sorrow, is who I have become
my days are empty, the nights are long
your voice still lingers, I hear it so plain
but I can't touch you, I only feel pain

everyone around me, will never know
how hard I'm trying but I can't let go
for nine months you were inside of me
kicking and growing, wanting to be free

you were the special one, so gentle and kind
something now days, is hard to find
your nature was giving to anyone in need
never thinking of yourself, you didn't know greed

I will never forget you and your special life
and one day I will see you in God's garden of light


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Looking Back

Dedicated to my children who have kept my dreams alive.

LOOKING BACK We can’t go back To the days of yesteryear To capture those lost feelings With those whom we loved so dear I am just looking back to see Where all of my dreams first start You know those deep seeded dreams Buried way down deep in your heart I’m not trying to revive a lost love That I once had forty years ago Or even trying to replace the twenty years Of not seeing my grandchildren grow There were times of much struggle Filled with pain, fear and torture It was the love I had for my children That developed my strength to endure My children only remember the 2nd set Of twenty years that have come and gone When they were all moving out on their own And when all of the grandchildren came along It’s like I was locked in a rock Throughout those 20 to 40 years Not able to see my grandchildren Filled my heart with so many tears The bitterness you feel towards me Is understandable and really okay My children, you all have the right To your feelings and to feel that way I have finally made the escape Since that rock has split wide open I want you all to know who I really am I haven’t changed at all, only my situation The gift of feelings we have in our heart Whether right or wrong, just happen It matters not what others may think We should let out our own self expression No feelings are really ever wrong In another’s view or even our own Our thoughts trigger our feelings inside The feelings we have are ours alone Looking back strengthens my heart Reminding me I want to pass along To all of you, just who I really am Before my time on earth is gone One day I hope you will realize With you I have always been Filling you up with that extra love You may have noticed you’ve been given You have all filled up Such a big part Of all the dreams Living in my heart My best friend Grace, reminded me That our feelings are meant to be and to last God wouldn’t put the dreams in our heart If He didn’t plan to bring the dreams to pass My dreams haven’t changed I am not letting them go They are for new adventures With new beginnings of tomorrow Now that I’m looking back I’m so glad to have survived I know now, my love for all of you Has always kept my dreams alive Florence McMillian (Flo)


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MY CHOICE

Mama said to me
“liL simon, never you be you
Never please you
Please me who made you live
Always walk under my arm
Now be what I want you to be
Be a doctor
And be my son
Be in the laboratory
Be treating hearts
Fix the rotting kidneys
Fix the rotting lungs
Save the dying thousands
And be my son"

But for I said to mama 
"I wanna be me
And please every man
I wanna be a writer
A prophet of justice
A son of the society
Mending morals
Of today and tomorrow
We the sons of today
That way we follow.

Now I wanna be me
I wanna be a writer
A voice of the voiceless
A hero of the silent
A burner of the thousands
A hope of the hopeless
A friend of the abandoned
A voice that never dies
A poet of all times
The breaker of injustice lines
And I will be your son
And a son of every man"


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Prisoner

I eat and sit
Stretch and Sleep and
Dance with time.
I've found mundane
       In raw mounds in my palms
- and swayed in its drunkenness.

Time, she's tried to touch me
      - tries - 
But, floating, I hold no weight,
Amorphous, we drift about,
She and I, never touching,
She and I, never existing;

Meaningless and comforting.


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Tiger

May 19, 1994 Dedication:  
This poem was written for my oldest son, Tiger, 
in hopes to give him much strength and direction in life.

Tiger my son, this poem is for you To give you the inner strength With the courage to pull through All times in life, no matter what length I pray that I can pass the words of wisdom Directly into your mind of thought To be able to conquer anything to come And to understand the path you have caught You are a most powerful, influencing person But it is within yourself, you must pull it out It matters not how much I believe, you are the only one Who must believe and know what your life is all about I have all the confidence that you can reach the top No matter what stumbling blocks you face in your path Just as long as you never give up or come to a stop And remove the thoughts and feelings you get of wrath Though it is your life in which to choose And I hope that I can influence you in the right way To know that it is okay to sometimes lose Because that is what helps us gain wisdom day by day Just remember that I am also your true friend And that it is not always good to be the best fighter But, sometimes the way, is having an extra hand to lend To gain respect and trust from others, Tiger Love, Mom Florence McMillian (Flo)


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Kitty

	KITTY

G.
A cat walked across the street
(After looking both ways).
It was a pretty Kitty.
There were trees across the street.
In the trees there were squirrels.
The squirrels raised families.
They ate acorns,
they made babies,
they slept.

PG.
A cat stepped across the street.
(After looking one way).
It was a pretty stray Kitty.
Across the street there were farmlands.
In the farmlands lived humans.
The humans raised many different plants.
The humans fed these plants to many types of animals.
Then the animals gave the humans “gifts”.
Which the humans ate, drank, and made into money.
Then they had sex (like animals).

PG-13
A cat ran across the street.
(Without looking).
It was a pretty curious stray Kitty.
It was run over by a taxi.
Riding inside the taxi were a Father and Son.
The Father remained unconcerned.
The Son frowned, looked out the window, and wept.
“The poor Kitty,” he said staring down at his hands.
“Why Dad, why did the Kitty have to die?” he asked.
“Son, the Kitty didn’t die; it went to Kitty Heaven.”
He answered almost-smiling at his Son now watching
the traffic consume outside quickly, noiselessly.
 
R.
A cat stumbled across the street.
(At midnight, eyes closed).
Just some Goddamed kitty cat.
The Kitty was crushed by a taxi and by an ambulance
and by a Greyhound bus and by a mini-van.
All tomorrow bound and running a day late.
Thump! Thump-thump! and all Kitty’s bones shattered,
as a car window shatters (into thousands of perfect cubes).
Kitty’s use-to-be head popped like a water balloon;
that some homeless child dropped on a hot sidewalk-
in New York City summertime.
Its lifeless body was vomited up against-
wheel well wheel well wheel well, eventually
spiraling into a drainage ditch off the highway.
Where it laid epileptically twitching.
Yellow eyes now open and looking forever
upward at the hazy stars of almost June
in the Twenty-first century, respectfully.
 


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My Favorite Devonshire


Footprints to Follow Father's bare feet left footprints in the sand Young son followed, each step carefully planned Tim wanted so much to be like his Dad Always emulating, quite a sweet lad So as you leave impressions on life's shore Remember your path will not be ignored Tread gently, leave prints that make your kids proud Step far away from the perilous crowd Stop at times, build sandcastles, pick up shells Memories can't be erased by sea swells Imprints on children's hearts last forever Keep this in mind through every endeavor A child may be following your footsteps Always make your marks with loving precepts Carolyn Devonshire When I read this poem, Carolyn, I picture my husband and son in those moments when they don't realize they're being watched. How my son looks at his dad is priceless. He hangs on his every word and wants to emulate his every action. My son is only four and I know one day in the near future, this will change (especially in those teenage years!), but I hope he follows in his dad's footsteps. My husband is a kind, loving and hardworking family man. Thank you for writing this beautiful poem. I have printed a copy of it for my husband to keep as a reminder of the tiny feet carefully stepping close behind his. As a parent, nothing is more important than our "impressions on life's shore". God bless you, Carolyn. Your golden heart shines through your words. Love and Blessings, Rhonda


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The sapling and the wood

The sapling and the wood..                   Steve Hudson

What would I tell my sons if my days were soon ending?
I would tell them:
Oh my dear precious sons
Our time on this earth is too short,
My eyes dim for a moment, only to brighten on larger frames,
With your heads on my chest, I embrace you, afraid of letting go,
Wanting to spare you from the world I left behind, with its terrors of the night,

Sometimes life will cut you down
You will feel like you can’t carry its burden
And hope may lose all definition
But find your heart in the face of doubt and uncertainty.

For you have a father who loves beyond measure
Here on earth, and in Heaven,
A father who will never stop fighting for you, believing for you
Pursue the one thing that makes you come alive
And be that to the world around you,
May Jesus Christ be the center and purpose of your very being.
For nothing on this earth will satisfy like the Bread of Life.
If you’re afraid, do it anyway, 
And know that if its right, whatever happens because of it
Is worth the outcome.

Never lose the wonder of the first time,
Live with honor, valor and passion,
Be the men you want others to be
Walk in such a way, that they would not quickly try you,
Though such would quickly follow you to the end.

Know that I have done my best for you with what I had,
My hope is that it was enough.


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My Birthday Wish

I sit on the floor and wait from dusk to dawn, for a new day will soon be reborn. I count all 
the blooming flowers, and count down the long hours, while mum takes her shower. 
Today's the day, for it's my birthday. I hope I get A car, or A guitar or maybe even become 
A movie star, but that's asking A bit too much of me. I walk around singing out A loud, 
acting proud feeling as if my heads in A cloud. To my surprise I start stumbling over my 
words and begin mumbling. Maybe mum just forgot about me, or are they just hiding the 
presents from me? I walk through the hall, with my head dragging looking at the floor, 
and go to bed with my heart feeling torn. It's getting late and I can no longer wait. I turn 
off my light, and close my eyes and cry having so much things go through my mind. I 
drift to sleep but then I see, mum walking in my room in the middle of the night with A 
light. It's so bright. She raises my heart like A kite, taking of it flight and she says, good 
night, and turns of the lights. She raised my hopes high and then shot them out of the 
sky. I break down and cry, it feels as if I've just died. No one remembered why today was 
A special day for it was my birthday. I look at the sky and wonder why? I light my candle 
and close my eyes, tears dripping down onto my thighs, and I start to whisper in my 
mind. "I don't want A car, or even A guitar. I don't even want to become A movie star. I 
just want to be free of this disease called poverty, I just want people to stop running away 
from me. Free me of aids so I can stop feeling afraid. Stop me from being poor, so I can 
afford to stop sleeping on the floor. Make me smile for there is no reason to smile, but 
please make my life worth while. Take me away from Africa, for all I see is people being 
raped and all the kids hearts filled with hate, I'm loosing my faith for I am living each day 
even though there is nothing to live for". A Tear drops on my candle, And puts out the 
flame I whisper in pain,This is "My Birthday Wish"
 
We wish for luxuries that only money can afford. They wish for water for they are poor. 
People need to learn to smile, for kids living in poverty have A legitimate reason not too. 
Be happy for what we have, and never complain for what we don't have.
 
- Wiko Te Maru


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Calling Father

<
09132012

Eternal Father stepped down and gave His thrown to Eternal Son
We are on the New Testament with God the Son
Angel Gabriel told Mother Mary to name Him “Jesus”, when He was a Jew
He grew, started a Universal Church and was baptized by St. John the Baptist

Eternal Father, Yahweh gave Him a name of “Christ”
Apostle is a Priest
Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
He is the Highest Priest of the Universal Church

Universal is Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
He didn’t need to be baptized
But He did anyway to for the righteous
He ordered 12 Apostles to preach His Gospel

Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
Eternal Son is Father Christ
Father Christ is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
Should we not call Him “Father” for the righteous?

www.fatherchristdivinetruth.org >


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A Different Perspective

Spencer just turned 7 the other day.

My wife and I adopted Spencer after many years of trying to add to our family the 
old fashioned way; then, after a few years of trying to add to our family the 
newfangled, medically assisted way.

My three biological children from a previous marriage lived with us from the time 
they were 12, 10 and 6.  By the time we got around to going the adoption route the 
two oldest were already in and out of college and the youngest was a senior in high 
school.  No empty nest for us, just a fast train to insanity.

I started my family, a story for another time, when I was just twenty-one.  After 
being the youngest father of most of their peers, I was now going to get to 
experience being the oldest father this time around.

People say that as an older parent you are more patient and understanding – I am 
not so sure that I agree; I just think fewer things bother you and you learn to 
realize that rules are not so important.  Many times, I think, as parents, we simply 
enforce rules because we can.

Spencer loves to dip his foods. He dips his mandarin orange slices in ketchup.  He 
dips his French fries in caramel meant for apple slices.  He dips his cheese in his 
yogurt.  Basically, whatever we serve him, if it’s a solid, of any kind, it gets dipped in 
the soft, liquidy food that happens to be closest to him.

Years ago, I probably would have not only tried to convince him that this was 
wrong, but I am pretty sure I would have forbidden him to do that.  Now?  What do 
I care?  If he likes it and he eats his broccoli, what do I care that he dips it in his 
pudding?

A few years ago, Spencer and I went on a father son excursion to buy him his first 
gold fish.  I asked Spencer what he was going to name his fish and, after thinking 
about it for a while, he said, “I think I want to name him, Mmmgggghh.”  

I immediately responded, almost as a reflex action, “Mmmggghh?  That’s not a 
name, that’s a sound.”

Spencer, in his wonderfully innocent way, asked, “Why can’t a name be a sound?”

Why, indeed?  

He loved Mmmggghh and loves telling people the story about his first pet.

Now some of you may read this and think I am being too relaxed in my duties as a 
father.  You may think that I should be teaching my son the “correct” way to do 
things – even as simple as how to eat and what not to mix or dip in what.

Me?  Nah.  Instead, I wish to thank Spencer for teaching me to question the norms.  
Why can’t a name be a sound?


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God or Father Christ

Apostle is a priest
Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
Eternal Father gave the name Christ when He was baptized by St. John the Baptist
He ordered the 12 apostle to preach His Gospel

He was the Highest Priest of the Universal Church
Universal means Catholic or Roman Catholic
There is a purgatory
Yes, purgatory is in the bible

The 2nd book of Maccabees, Old Testament
Purgatory or Purification
Intellectually understood 
All as in everybody should be under Eternal Son’s Universal Church

Eternal Son is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
It is for the righteous to call Eternal Son Father Christ
Eternal Father is in Him
Father Christ sends the Holy Spirit


Christians will be in the Purgatory
Until they learn from their Initiation before going to heaven
On earth is called Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults R.C.I.A. to be the true Christian
Three types are slain

Father Christ is the pathway to heaven
To face Eternal Father and the Divines
It is my job to inform everybody
Visit www.fatherchristdivinetruth.org to know more


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The Sea

Waiting silently by the phone was all he had.

Grasping the bottle he drank greedily.

The waiting was all he had at the moment.

He roared,"arrrrrgh!"And the sound comforted him.

He dialed his son to wish him Happy Holiday.

The son had no father but he waited too.

Like a cast away he scanned the bottle searching for a note.

The two went back to the waiting and it helped.

It was something to do to kill time and it was honest.

The sea was deep and danger waited there too.

So all three gathered together in silence.

The father sent memories on the ferry to the son.

"Arrrrrgh," helped and it comforted the man.

He was in the navy so he loved the sea and the sea returned it.

The father watched and scanned the waves with hope.

And the gulls screaming words that only gulls understand.

What will become of me after the message is delivered?

Will I ever cross and grasping the bottle.


I loved you and The Sea.


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Fireman

It's 1 AM
And we're making sweet love.
There is a house burning in the distant, cold morning.
You're called.
You rush to the firehouse,
Leaving me cold and empty.
How I wish you'd stay with me.

You throw on gear like so many times before.
Your son cries in his crib,
        He knows you're gone.
I cradle him in my arms,
Like you did me only minutes ago.
I put my breast to his mouth, hoping he's hungry,
Hungry as you were only minutes ago.
But it's no use.
    He knows you're gone.

You arrive at the house, which turns the black sky
Red with the burning of its materials and souls.
You search for the souls you can protect and save.
I hope you're protected, but I now know what your son has known all along.

You find a small girl in her closet, barely conscious.
You give her your oxygen and take her out of the fiery hell.
She thinks you are god, come to save her.
You tell her you're not.
You talk, trying to keep her conscious. She asks if you have a child.
"Yes, I have a son."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes, with all my heart."
"Did you say goodbye to him?"
"No, but I'll say hello when I get home."

The Little Girl sees her mother's burnt body carried out.
"Is that my mommy?" she asks.
"Yes. She told me she loves you more than anything."
"Hey God, where will she go?"
You pause and say, "Honey, she isn't going anywhere. She'll be right here with you,
protecting you as you grow up."
"Good. I love my mommy. And I love you too, god."
She closes her eyes
And falls on the stretcher she was sitting on.
You feel pain-the little, lifeless body will always be in your mind.

I begin to cry with our son.
I sway back and forth, gently rocking.
       He knows you're gone. So do I.
You find another body with a soul still alive.
A young boy.
You hand him past the door between the two worlds.
You've just let him go.

The house collapses upon you.
You're gone.
My strong fireman is gone.

I cry with our son, we both know you're gone.
I wait for that call.
I hold our son, close to my body.
I get that call at 4AM.
The sun is not up yet.
What they say to me, means nothing. I knew you were gone.
I cried, but not violently.
Tears just curved down my face.
I ask for your gear, after they remove it.

It smells of dust, fire, death, but
I can still smell you.
I shake it and my eyes fall upon your pocket.
It was full.
You never leave things in there.
I found a note, entitled to James and me.

"I love you both more than anything. I need to say it more often. I love you."

Dated today
1:45 AM


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A chance to say goodbye

There once was a woman
that was a wife and a mother
who one day got sick
then called and cried to her brother

She was alone at the docters
when she found out about the cancer
she called her family right away 
but nobody would answer

The woman was so scared
she was only 25 
when she found out that she had
not much time to be alive

The woman wasnt happy 
about living her last days
she did not know how to react
she just sat there in a gaze

as day by day went by
she was more then fun and flirty
till she died on Christmas Eve 
at excatly 11:30

As the family cried and cried
the oldest son scremed "why
why did she have to leave us 
without even saying bye"

as he cried himself to sleep that night 
she talked to him through dreams
she said
"son im very sorry that I had to go and leave"

she said she really loved him
and that she really cared
about how he went through life
without seeing his mother there

He said he loved her so
with his great big giant heart
and that nothing will ever keep 
him and his mother apart

When he awoke the next morning
he told his dad about his dream
about seeing his mother happy
as happy as can be

The father said "thats good son
that you got rid of all this pain
in just one night of sleep 
now look how much you've gained"

The son just flashed a smile
he new his dad did not understand 
that he got his chance to say goodbye
and let go of his mothers hand


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The Kings Three Sons Part 3

He said, "You spend all day in bed with your women, and not one you have married. I think they could use a break. Your brother wishes to starve the people. If you were to be King what would you do?" "The army is week with loneliness." The second son said, as he pulled his wenches close. "I will let them take all the women they want." "So you will rape the women?" the King asked. "Are women not a vessel to be used in that way?" the second son spoke with mocking in his voice. The King sighed, for this was another son he mislead. "My son," the King spoke again, "I love you as much as a king could love a son but I love my people more. You shall not be King." Anger filled the second son And rising his fist up high, he spat, "When you die I will have reign and the guards will take every woman, even if it is before her time." So with his toys in tow he stormed out the room” The wizard stopped and looked me in the eyes, “have you heard this one before my child?” “No,” I answered back, eager to hear what the King will do. “Very well,” He said as he went on. The King called onto his third son; hopping he will bring what the other two could not. The King’s third son was short and small; with children as servants so he could feel very tall. "My king," the third son said, ‘what is so important that you must drag me from my chambers were I sleep?" ‘My son,’ The King went on, ‘your brothers wish to starve and rape my people. If you were king what would you do?" The third son raised a hand to his chin; thinking hard. "The army is all to tall," he began, "I shall take the children from their homes and have them trained as solders do." "You wish to brainwash children to do the evils not even men should so?" With a coy smile the third son said, "Precisely, my King, if it pleases you." "My son,"


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Too Much, Too Young

Looking back,
i should have listened to what they said
to the advice they gave but i did not 
and look at me now
 
Two children later,
my daughter deceased, a son of two 
and inside i am still a baby myself 
made to grow up 

Act your age,
thats what they said but how can I do that now 
I am nineteen but have soembody other than me
to consider

I will always be here,
is what most of them said 
two years later where are you all
there not friends

Decisions, decisions 
my options were open, i chose the wrong one
and now i must deal with it for the sake of my son 
I have done too much, too young


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Still the Same

It is still lightly drizzling, as I pull into the parking lot
The sun is hidden by the clouds
A bit of light spits tiny rainbows from the tips of Monterey pines
The old school hasn't changed much, since my children graced it's classrooms...
As if all time has been erased..... 
Skinned knees on the playground, and stuck wads of gum under the desks
All those years ago that seem like yesterday.
I stop at the office, then wander down the familiar halls
I'm reminded of the teachers, who once taught my children
Those who have since retired,... Mr. Spencer, Mrs. Schueller, Miss Wilson
I wonder where they are now, and who could fill their shoes
I peek into the second grade classroom
And my I see my grandson working diligently
He looks up and sees me with a grin so wide
And soon a whisper scurries about the room.
Ten more faces are soon grinning at me.
But just then, the bell rings, and one happy little boy
Gathers his coat, and papers, and comes to me
He grabs my hand, and we walk to the car.
The clouds have disappeared.


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A Valentine Message

The way to melt a lass’s heart
Is to give her one single rose.
It will be more precious to her than
A dozen or two dozen roses.
It sends a message that she is the ONE.
The one lass in your life, the one you love!
A hand written note to accompany it. . .
She will save forever, and she will probably
Press that rose in a book to be cherished.

Many lads seem to think bigger is better. . .
Not true for a lass with a true heart.
If she gushes over the single rose you give her. . . 
Then her heart is as pure as her love for you.
Pick a Valentine card with great thought
And care, and if you attempt to write how 
You feel about her in your own hand
Be prepared to share the best 
Valentine’s Day of your life!


*Note: This message is from a lady with many years of experience who also
has raised three daughters. Happy Valentine's Day!.....I will be away on a trip for 
two weeks to see my first grandson who is almost a month old, so I will not be able to 
comment  on your poetry as often until my return.


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Sweepstakes

He was a silent man.

He stayed upstairs, typing unceasingly
and during dinner, mumbled accusingly
nothing ever finished

That evening he noticed, 
saw his child sitting in the distance
alone, he crossed the field

He teased; they played, 
among the blades of several hills, 
a thousand times they rolled, 
vibrating

He laughed; they roared
 Disney visions, collaborating 
goose-bumps; torching recollections.

He taught; they practiced
hundreds, of air pockets among them 
they flew like ravens


They went home, and thereafter

He was a silent man; 
his child unspoken.


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THE SINS OF SOCIETY

The mid-sixties weren't fun for a teen working...
I put foot on this prosperous and beautiful land
and looked forward to a great future,
but my plan didn't go as smoothly
as I thought it would have instead.
My question was, " Go to College, 
earn a degree or help mother and sisters? "
I choose to help them procrastinating.
From job to job I went hardly missing a day realizing what it would have cost me, 
but wages stayed the same or rarely increased much,
I loved to work and earn my weekly paycheck;
sadly, many boys of my age were drafted and went to war...
some returned, many didn't and being the only son,
they didn't draft me but witnessing the horror, the sadness, the crying of soldiers, 
and seeing all that: was like being there where the sky exploded with fire and smoke.
Isn't fate the course that nobody can predict regardless how scientists envision it...
if it were so easy to foresee, all would have control over it and all catastrophes
could be avoided to save millions of lives? Doesn't the Bible warn us to shun divination?
It's the sinful mind, the greedy heart, the unfaithful spouse, the disobedient child
making us stand at the crossroads deciding which steps to take to prevent a tragedy.


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Mother to Son

You live in another world
spiritual realm your heaven
a powerful entity in itself.

The watching of your loved ones
from the angels sky
sprinkling your wishes
of joy to them all.

Never missing anything
from the highest plane
where you can move on
to another journey.

The past, present and future
are all multi-dimensional
in the hall of records
where past judgments lie.

Spread your angel wings
fly down to me upon the earth
so I can feel you once more.


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On the holiest day marks Ashoura

Watching television these days
can draw another line; a perspective –
with a variety of advertisements, news,
talk shows and other entertainments
indeed, a so-called form of ‘literature in a hurry.’

With a spate of information to know and digest,
with discoveries rolling through events,
with episodes shown in different contexts
provide certain answers in countless reportings.

A hodge-podge of issues trembles in situations,
with that continuing war, violence and kiling;
afflict the whole world with fear and sorrow,
oh, America! Cradle of power and opportunity.

Screaming headlines in various newspapers,
continue to soar almost beyond proportion;
with endless quest and wish against tragedy,
like a Christian mantra: peace in the whole world!

Religion among the Muslim countries,
plays a vital role in their whole life spectrum;
with the Shiites, Sunnis and Baathists, for instance,
another perspective, a magnet to all devotees.

As Shiites mark Ashoura in Beirut, Lebanon,
many Shiite Muslim men march the streets;
beating their chests and others slashing their heads
like a Christian flagellation done in Lenten season.

It’s a radical interpretation with inerrancy in their culture
Such a manifestation that shows grief in human actions;
adds substance to their celebration – being holy,
there’s deep supplication across the length of day;
albeit, the cry of pain makes them strong in their faith.

Note:

Ashoura.  The tenth day of Muharram – the Shiites’ holiest day.  It marks the killing of Imam Hussein, the grandson of Prophet Muhammad, in 680 A.D. battle at Karbala in Basra, Iraq.


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Riding In A Car With My Son


We said our goodbyes 
Promising not to stay too long 
My son settling in  
The roads to the beach 
Straight and empty 
That winter’s night 
The Doors were on tape 
Morrison's deep voice 
Chanting  
 “Riders on the Storm… 
Into this world we’re thrown…” 
  
Dashboard burnishing dull green 
My son 
Arranging action figures 
Asking questions 
As only a ten year old could
While I drove 
Following the moon 
Chasing the stars 
Peering ahead 
Into the darkness 
Wondering what he would be like 
When he grew up. 
  
Foolishly, I believed there 
Would be more nights 
And more times to ride together 
Only to carelessly 
Let them slip away. 
  
Years later 
We were together again 
My son driving
On the straight and empty roads
Pursuing his own dreams 
We were just like two guys 
Following the shoreline 
Talking
Sharing
Searching for a piece of the moon.



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A LIVING LEGEND

Everyone calls him
the king of rhythm and blues;
and with his electric guitar he plays his music,
strumming those strings with frantic fingers:
singing of his past delusions and unfaithful loves!
Decades ago, he traveled to many countries,
and everywhere he went he brought along
that guitar he named Lucille;
and even today it still emanates his will:
can you hum his most recent song?
A southerner from Mississipi,
uniting folks and making them sing;
and fame he found when he moved to Tennessee,
and who would have thought that he would have
become a living legend? 



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THE MISSING -- FATHER'S SON

Joseph-----born in October 1994—to your Mother and her family.
When I collided with your Mother—in 1993—all she was-
absence for------was you!
All she would declare is---She needed a child to complete her- 
A Son or Daughter ----that did not matter to her!

If this echo is all too familiar--- I assure you--- it is NOT!
You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
You have only known one view of this great epic —But--- today—you 
will hear of THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Forced by your Mother and her family to NEVER--- have communion 
with you!

Given your Mother’s madden name at birth--- you lived in her- 
universe.
Unable to communicate with the out-side world--- forced to never-
have communion ---with me--- MY ONLY SON!!
You see my dearest Joseph--- you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
SON!!

It would seem some evil force be-hide the whole perplexity.
You force by your mother and family---- into--- a fatherless child’s-- world
Me forced to live with-out----- my only Son—which cause YOU to be-
THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
I am sure reality has been restrained from YOU-----your entire life.

 Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
SON!!
But---- HE sent HIS-- only SON to the CROSS--- To die for you and me.
Beaten, bruised, tormented and Crucified----beyond recognition---for OUR SINS!!
ALL THANKS be to HIS Heavenly Father----because with-out HIM---
you would not have a Padre.

You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
If some evil force is present—he would know that the HEAVENLY—
Father is your father ------after all.
Because HE -----and HE alone ----can only be a Father to the 
Fatherless.
I leave with you my final plea—you would KNOW HIM as your- 
DADDY!!

By: WEM/MEW/EWM/EMW















 



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Househusband

He wakes up every morning at the crack of dawn
He takes a quick hot shower,
Walks into the kitchen and turns the coffee on
And makes a bottle of milk for his baby son

He awakens his sleeping wife
And fixes her a nice breakfast
He is a man whose life is
Committed to his wife and child

He stops at the bank, stops at the grocery store
All because he is a dedicated family man
He runs all the errands, drops his wife off at her work,
Along with their son in a mini-van

He cooks all the meals, cleans the house,
And plays with his little baby son
All because he's a stay-at-home spouse
He has even decided that until his son is

Old enough and ready to leave for college
He will go find a job, but until that time comes along
He will be a househusband
Just as John Lennon said in that song


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The Chain Called Life

   

I remember the day I left home and my old momma telling me it was time I was 
on my own.
    She said son you’re not a boy you’re nearly full grown.
She said you’ll make it fine please don’t despair.
    For I will always love you, you know son I care.
As my journey took me to many places and so many sites I have seen.
   The grass will never match that of my home nor of its pastures so green.
You can’t go back is what everyone seems to say.
    You can’t go back to live in those days of yesterday.
I just thank God for having a mother who knew how to share.
    I sure miss her soft words and the saddest part knowing that she is no longer 
there.
Each person is a link in life’s glorious chain.
    As some merely fade away others form new links to the ones that remain.
Each makes their mark as best that they can.
    Each mark is a link be it of woman or man.
Some links are shiny while others seem dull and quite pale.
    Each link has its purpose each link has its tale.
As life’s circle is connected in oh so many ways. 
    Remember only its laughter and life’s happier days.
                                                                  


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vignette-MARS & THE MILKY WAY

A bitter row with his Dad
Made son Forest very mad
and set him all afire!
Off to England to compete from afar,
Quickly producing a rival 'Mars' bar!

Tribute to Forest Mars son of Frank of 'Milky Way' fame


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THE GIGOLO OF VIA VENETO

Everybody knows him as Alessandro,
the handsome gigolo of Via Veneto,
and his lucky charms he sells to many a gorgeous lady,
he approaches them and says,
" Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"
as he struggles with words, she replies,"Oui"
And he continues with a perfect accent, "Je t'ame!"
shocked by the womaniser, the slender French young woman
looks at him and starts to laugh with an entertaining wit;
but the gigolo insists, " Tu es tres belle!"
And the petite mademoiselle exclaims," Merci!"
How can his sexiness win him this French woman?
"Vouz habite a' Paris?" and smiling she nods
 " Oui...a' Paris, a' Belleville..un quartier de Paris!"
and the gigolo continues, " Un bel androit!"
" Beau garcon,, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...
est loin dici? And Alessandro excitedly replied,"
" Ce ne'st pas loin!"... and with a sign laguage,
he pointed to his red Ferrari, ready to steal her away! 


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci

Translation:

Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"/ Young lady, do you speak French?

Tu es  tres belle/ You are beautiful

Vouz habite a' Paris?/ Do you live in Paris?

Qui...a' Paris, a' Belleville...un quartier de Paris!/
Here...in Paris, in Belleville...a quarter in Paris!/

Un bel androit!/ A beautiful place

Beau garcon, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...est loin dici?/
Pretty boy, where's the Trevi Fountain...is it far?

Ce ne'st pas loin/ not too far


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The Moon is a Thief

The moon is devouring my brothers/uncles/cousins/father/husband/sons

Last night my youngest son disappeared
We searched for him in the moonlight
(But I do not trust the moon)
She is a thief, fickle, many-faced liar
She deceives, manipulates
She is a crazy woman beckoning, then galloping away

Call her names
Better yet murder her
Gather her like cotton and push her
Down into a burlap bag
Grab her and shake her
Maybe the lost boys and men 
Will pop out of her like
marbles set free from a pouch

My son ran across her incandescent heart
Sweating, foaming at the mouth
I could not run fast enough after him
He was gone so fast
She is an enticer and a thief
A hard hearted moon who cares about no one
but herself
Blow the moon down
Then my men would return



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The Kings Three Sons Part 2

The eldest of the sons came first. He was large; as tall as a bear on its hind legs, and FAT. His chin was not one or two, but three! His stomach hung so far down, it took four servants to keep it above the ground. "My King," he barked out in a manner rather rude, "What has so much importance that you drag me from my table of food?" "Surely," the King said, looking his oldest son up and down, ‘you can afford to miss a meal or four." With a squeal the eldest son turned red. "As you know," the King spoke out, "I have not much time as King anymore, tell me what your plans are, if this future was bestowed on you?’" With a smile that covered his face in a pudgy haze, the eldest son spoke. "The army has grown tired of sitting around. They bother me constantly with boring sounds. The prisoners they usually torture, have rotted away, leaving only bones, not even the hounds will eat." "The land is filled with peace, my son, how can that be a bad thing?" "Because," the eldest when on, ‘they are bored and will not want to fight for us when peace breaks down to war."
"And what would you have them do?" "Send them out. They have free range with in the land. Have them take the food that is ours, and bring it back from me to enjoy." "So, you will have your people starve?" "They are not my people, but yours." With anger, the King said, "My son, I love you as much as any King could love a son, but I love my people more, and thus, I can not make King." With anger, the eldest son raised a chubby fist, and spat out, "When you die, old man,I will have your throne. I will have all the crops and meats and cheeses your people make, inside my stomach! And when I eat all their food, I'll eat their children too!" Storming off with his servants, hurrying ahead, trying to keep his girth from tripping his feet. Saddened, the King called forth his second son. The King's second son was thin and tall with women all around. "My King," the second son spoke, "what is so important that you must drag me from the women I keep?" "My son,"


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Birth II

Sultry San Francisco September
     enveloped hours of labor.
Hot, searing waves of pain
     moved around and down
My mound of naked flesh
      pushing as a tide with no ebb.

Into the dank, dark North Beach hotel room
     came two men dressed in white,
Blurred in their motions of haste
     by my sweat-filled eyes.
My nakedness was covered by a cool white sheet
     floating down with a caress.

Three flights of stairs met us
     as they carried the stretcher down
Out into the concrete furnace of Indian summer.
     Tourists standing staring watched
My mouth open in a triumphant scream:
     "The Baby ... the baby is coming!"

Moments later, siren sounds filled my mind
     as his body brought the crowning.


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' Jennie - Pennie (My Big Sister)

Everywhere I Look … I See Jennie
Short, Red-Hair and a Smile, So Bright and Pretty
Jeanette … my Older, Big Sister… I Wish I was More Like Her…
        … My Dear Jennie … My Sweet Jennie …

Treated me like I was Her Baby … That was Jennie
Helped me to be a Real-Lady … Just like Jennie
Taught me how to Share and just how to say my Prayers …
        … Jennie … Great Lady Jennie

She was in Her Early Adult Years and I was Young Too
… when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
            … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
        I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                … Oh Jennie … Loving Jennie …

In that Cold-Clinical-Room … Lay Jennie
She Would Be Leaving Soon – God ! … Not Jennie !
She asked me, ‘Did She Fulfill … God and Our Mama’s Will …?’
        Yes, You Did Jennie… I Said You Did Jennie !

… She was in Her Late, 40-Years, but Still, Much Too Young To…
… Like when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
                     … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
                    I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                           … Oh Jennie … I Love Jennie …

When I Wrote This Song … I was Missing Jennie
God … We Can’t Believe She’s Gone … I Loved Jennie
        Jennie-Pennie … You Kept Your Promise…
                  Mama Will Be Proud of Us…

… May Jesus, Call Jennie … When The Time Comes, Please Call Jennie
          Lord Call Jennie … Lord Call Mama … and Then Lord Call Me …

            Jennie, Left Loved Ones... February 29th, 1992 …
          I hate Leap-Years Now …. ‘til I Leap of Faith to You …
                     … Cancer … is Not A Loving Word ! ! !
                             Will It Be The Last I Heard ? …


                      In Memory of my Beloved Sister
                                        Jeanette


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MI COMMA TO AMERICA ( I CAME TO AMERICA ))

Mi camma to America wid a passion for moni en fud,
hoppin to getta rich;
en de sai det gold is founda in striz!
Mi work en work ol dei
to meke sam dollar,
en mi eat pizza, en drink vino...
mi wanna be lika Al Pacino:
a famos attor ov Hollivud! 
En me veit too mani iers, to see butiful voman 
laika Marilin Monro...whata a fess!
Whata a bodi! A Diva so sexi!
En mi wanna be laika Valentino from Italia,
to sedus ol duh pritty ladi vid mi ciarma;
en ol kiss mi...O locki Casanova!  

English Translation:

I come to America with a passion for money and food,
hoping to get rich;
and they say that gold is found on streets!
I work and work all day
to make some dollar,
and I eat pizza and drink wine...
I would like to be like Al Pacino
a famous actor in Hollywood!
And I waited many years to see beautiful women
like Marilyn Monroe...what a face!
What a body! A Diva so sexy!
And I like to be like Valentino from Italy,
to seduce all the pretty ladies with my charm;
and they all kiss me...O lucky Casanova!!

Entered in Deborah's Gucci, " Dialects make the world go around "
(Brooklyn-Italian dialect)

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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BRIAN

In my youth, I dreamed of my son-
Blonde hair, blue eyes, and lots of fun-
Then to my surprise there came a time,
When he became real, and he is mine.

Brian is the son of my dream-
The son that I cherish as part of our team,
You would think God had sent him on a moonbeam,
So he could join our family as part of my scheme.

I have written of Brian times before-
And I may write of him many more,
But you have to understand about his birth-
He was my miracle come to earth.

Before Brian cam, I had lost babies-no fault of mine-
When I conceived Brian it seemed like just one more time,,
But I screamed at God,"NO! Give him to me!!"
For a baby boy I felt him to be-.

God answers prayer when it is time,
So my Brian came because it WAS his time!
He is 36 now and he is so fine-
I still can't believe that he is mine.


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My Son

This poem I write to my oldest son.
   In hopes maybe he’ll forgive the things that I’ve done.
The heaviest load I placed on you.
   Not once did I ask, my words were just do.
Boy you do this, boy you do that.
   Did I ever say thank you, or give you a pat?
Son I’m sorry I know I was rough.
   Like the song “ A boy named Sue “ I figured you’d need to be tough.
I thank God for age and the wisdom it brings.
   And son I thank God for you, is why I’m writing these things.
I’m glad we finally quit bumping heads and decided to get along.
   And I thank God for the wisdom to show me I was wrong.
Son you know I love you, and you’re always on my mind.
   Thank you for loving me back, you are a precious find.
There is no turning back the pages for the things which we have done.
   But it honors me to know you are my oldest son.
                   Love You Chris, Papa
 


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Greatest Treasure

As I walked through the park in the late sun's light,
Watching the people jog by and a bird's lazy flight.
An old man sat on a bench up ahead
With the sun's rosy glow glistening on his head.
He seemed so forlorn just sitting there,
The breeze gently ruffling his white, thin hair.
His hands were clasped around his trembling, gnarled fingers
And as I came closer I decided to linger.
"Excuse me," I said with a smile,
"Do you mind if I sit here for awhile?"
His head came up as the old gentleman slowly stood
And he said, "I'd be honored if you would."
As we sat we talked of several things
Of things in the past and what the future may bring.
He spoke of the people who had walked by
Never looking at him or saying hi.
He was old, he said, and past his prime.
He understood - no one now had the time.
People today have so much to do
Spending time with the old ones is not what they choose.
He had a son, he said with a sigh.
Who he feared was letting life pass him by.
His boy thought only of making money
And he seldom saw nature's beauty or things that were funny.
He was always in such a hurry dashing to and fro
That he would never have a chance for his soul to grow.
My eyes strayed from the man's wise face
And saw someone walking towards us at a very fast pace.
As he got closer he suddenly yelled,
"Hey, Dad, let's go, I've got a date.
We have to hurry, I don't wanna be late."
The old man looked at me with sadness in his eyes
As he rose and graciously told me good-bye.
He shuffled away, such a lonely old soul
Whose life's ups and downs had taken their toll.
"Wait!" I said, heading his way
There's something I'd like to say.
Thank you, kind sir, for talking to me.
You've been very enjoyable company.
Then quickly I leaned and kissed his cheek
On that face that once again had become old and bleak.
Now it lit up with eyes much brighter
As he walked towards his son with his step a little sprightlier.
But the son stood impatiently as his dad came his way.
Not realizing his greatest treasure was fading away.


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Laundry

Spent thirty minutes past curfew 
mother's punishment an easy task,nothing new
finish chores when I'm bored
laundry cleaning's evovled from washboards
to cleaners and washer-dryers
the clothing's piled high,higher 
than my height and summer nostalgia's hard to fight
everything stunk with cigarettes,cologne and funk
something reeks...its my usual spot for hide and seek

Growing older my laundry's awful odor fades with age
I read more exercise less
My guess?
I'm gaining the weight of knowledge
yet its eight years until college

Yesterday's clean laundry is today's outfit 
faded nylon shorts,second hand thrift
my brother's birthday gift
snow white t-shirt...brandnew
matching Adidas tennis shoes
matches my favorite team an autographed blue
L.A. dodgers cap severed at the seams
beneath the sock pile and lingerie clutter
is my secret stash kept from my curious brother
at age nine everything is his even if it's mine
but I'm still fair and share
cause childhood's a gentle cycle...handle with care


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Manuelito & Poseidon

Even as thunder boomed mighty overhead
and power lines on San Domingo Avenue outside
faltered and succumbed to the tempest
the Ortegas stood breathless in the family room, gaze transfixed 
upon the television screen like so many deer in the headlights of a truck.
Finally a flash from without, and a snap 
extinguished all light within the household. Ten seconds passed 
without a sound. Then the father uttered something and
the family members scattered, each returning a moment later
bearing possessions of infinite value. Within a minute, 
all had crammed into the station wagon, evacuation route ingrained
within their minds like a seed of hope.
All but one. Manuelito had been lost.
The mother howled and flied back into the house,
tears streaming down her face hard as the rain.
She reached the back porch, and to her eternal shock
found Manuelito standing alone on the beach like a mannequin
eyes locked upon the Cyclops-eye of the storm.
The mother cried out through anguished sobs
in vain, for the howling drone of the wind overpowered all
and when Manuelito turned around to face all that he loved
he did so with all the finality of a grown man
resolved upon his course of action.
The mother abruptly ceased her crying, and
her countenance briefly matched that of her son
as she, too, turned her gaze upon the jewel center of the storm
and was hypnotized by the awesome power of the divine.
At length she regained self-consciousness, and her eyes
darted back to that segment of the beach where her son had been standing
but his figure, like a stream of sand on the dunes of time,
had been replaced by nothingness,
the allure of the unknown and
Poseidon’s call of wild fury
too strong to resist.


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dancer(in Honor of his Late Decorated Father)

Swift on his feet
Swaying fro
The magical dance
snapping to a certain beat
A player of the art
Ballerina with a heart
Rhythm harmonic
Boogie-Woogie one step time
Every ballad that is played for him
is returned in his sensitive movements
upon the ballet floor underneath so

His only audience
A statue of his Father
Who served during the Gulf War
But tragically killed in the line of duty
Decorated with a Purple Heart
Honored on this statuesque
The Dancer is celebrating
For his Hero
A Soldier proud
and a Father missed
The Swan on his Lake
Every nuance without mistake
The sun as his Stage Light
And the music from Nature's Lips who sing
Handsome light as a Feather
Braved 35 years of personal weather

I COULD GO ON AND ON,DEAREST DAD
THIS IS FOR YOU AND THE VICTORIES
THAT WE HAVE HAD

YOU ARE NO LONGER HERE
TO WATCH MY PERFORMANCE
AND YOUR 8 YR OLD GRANDSON SO DEAR

I HONOR YOU IN DANCE
I LOVE YOU WITH A SMILE
AS MY SONG STILL PLAYS ON
YOUR ONLY SON WOULD LIKE
TO REMEMBER WITH YOU

FOR ONE MORE WHILE
UNTIL THE RECORD PLAYER
PLAYS OUR SUITE NO MORE


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I. Father Byrd

Centuries ago
Father Byrd crossed those worn and weathered mounts
into the wild untamed unclaimed Mississippi River valley, settled down
and farmed land in a place that came to be called West Tennessee
sent grandsons off to Franklin to die for the Confederacy, sat and wept
and said not a word until he died of a broken heart, let his sons and 
their grandsons and their sons and their sons farm his acres 
‘til TVA took half of it, and the mechanized farmers across the Mississippi made 
the rest useless, and the next generation went off to college and got Yankee 
jobs, and 
his last son sat dying of Alzheimer’s in a Lay-Z-Boy in front of a TV screen, and 
his brother drove the last stake of barbed wire fencing into the ground,
rolled over and died of a heart attack in the timeless pasture.
He was eighty-six. I’m seventeen and here I sit
using my hands not for plowing, not for splitting logs,
not for shooting deer, not for fencing,
but for writing the history of those who came before
and made this life possible.


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Absaloms Rebellion

Absalom’s Rebellion After Amnon raped Tamar, who was Absalom’s beautiful sister, Absalom plotted to kill His incestuous, lustful brother. Amnon fled to Talmai to his mother’s father, the king. Absalom’s rebellion may have been avoided, with punishment David failed to bring. King David exiled Absalom; had no part in the kingdom’s affairs. This gave rise to dangerous scheming of which David was unawares. Absalom was returned to the kingdom, but still banished from the court. With only outward reconciliation, Absalom listened to grievances brought. Soon Absalom had a following— discontent with the government spread. He stole the hearts of Israel; secretly planned a revolt to be led. As the trumpet of revolt was sounded, the prince’s spies spread news he was king. David learnt of Absalom’s rebellion; with his lyre, he no longer could sing. King David was driven from Jerusalem by the insurrection of his beloved son, who took possession of the throne— His unrightful monarchy begun. The usurper planned his father’s death, but in this he did not succeed. Instead a slaughter of 20,000 men, and Absalom’s death was decreed. Absalom met his untimely death, in a very unusal way. Strung up helpless in a tree; free slather for evil men's sway. David was broken-hearted; His rebellious son's death not desired. He'd not have lost his precious Absalom, had such rebellion not been aspired. Absalom, who once sought justice, by taking it into his own hands, eventually plotted against his father, with disloyal citizens at his commands. Absalom’s rebellion started as revenge, and later plotted to usurp the kingdom. God stepped in to permit justice; Absalom's Rebellion received no royal anthem. Copyright © 2009-2012 Maureen LeFanue www.maueenlefanue.com


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Son Seeker

I am the Son seeker
The dream keeper
Searching for light amongst the dark
Carving my niche
Leaving my mark
Trying to spread the living word
It is more than what you’ve heard
Walking on the brighter side
Each step filled with pride
A heart that is an open book
Never judging at first look
Knowing that tomorrow
Is an unwritten page
Having so much faith
Helps to quell my rage
Joining hands to pray to the Holy one
The only one
He the true dream weaver
And I am the Son seeker

The End
By Greg P


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A Door Upon Hinges (Part II)

The vineyard of this man, who lacks judgment, and the field of the sluggard is 
overgrown with thorns, and nettles cover its face.  Its stonewall is in ruins; by 
much slothfulness the building decays and the rafters sag, and through idle 
hands the house drops through and leaks.  Therefore, do not love sleep or you 
will grow poor, but open your eyes!  Stay awake!  And you will have food to spare.
	Just go to the ant, you sluggard; consider her ways and be wise.  She 
has no commander, overseer, or ruler; yet, she stores her provisions in summer 
and gathers her food in the harvest, as does the wise son, but a disgraceful son 
sleeps during harvest; he regards the clouds and does not reap.
	The wise son tills his land and is satisfied with plenty of bread, and 
his soul is made fat.  His way is made plain and easy because in all hard work 
there is profit, for diligent hands bring wealth.  Although he may prize his 
possessions, he also gives without sparing, for a generous man will prosper, 
and he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.  His diligent hands will 
rule.
	So, how long will you lie there, you sluggard?  When will you get up 
from your sleep?  For yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands 
to rest, so shall your poverty come as a vagrant and your want like a robber.

A Scripture Compilation


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Scratches (Scars)

At first it was nothing
Other people had it; I didn't care
Then it became something with him just lying there
Short of breath, short of air
I took him in, but it was too much
No medical plan, no nothing
Our money was not enough

I prayed and prayed, but after the first week he didn't make it
I got so mad, I couldn't take it
As I walked back home a cool breeze came in
I didn't shiver. I hung my head only thinking one thing: my dad is dead
I entered the house. I locked the door
I didn't plan to come out anymore
I said forget you world

The rain starts, and it pours hard
The sun is gone. Covered up by grey clouds now

I walk through the house with a feeling of unfamiliarness
Everything is quiet. Everything is still
The house is at rest
I go into the living room and turn on the T.V.
The news is on; America is fighting Iraq
I feel sick and react by throwing the remote at the glass
It shatters and sparks fly
I knock down the set as I walk by...

I was mad
Now I'm angry

...to the wall. I punch it. I punch it hard as if I was punching away my anger and frustration 
to- to God
I think about it. My knuckles split and bleed
I run through the house now furious ripping stuff apart and breaking anything
All the while I think to myself:

I should've known there was none
I should've known there was no one
I was born in the slums, and I grew up rough
Our mother left us. My brother died in the war
No money. No insurance
My father was the only strong standing through it all
But now he lays dead because I prayed and I prayed
He lays dead
This leads me to believe:

THERE IS NO GOD
THERE IS NO ALMIGHTY FATHER
NO SON OF THE LORD
NO JESUS CHRIST
NO ONE WHO IS THE SAVIOUR OF OUR LIVES 
HE DIDN''T SAVE A LIFE
HE LET IT SLIP
NOW MY LIFE IS ABOUT TO GET AWAY
AWAY FROM YOU
SO NOW I TURN MY BACK
I TURN MY BACK ON THE WORLD AND I TURN MY BACK ON YOU LORD BECAUSE I HATE 
YOU - THE WORLD, THE DEAD, ESPECIALLY THE DESEASES YOU CREATED
I HATE IT
THE FATHER, THE SON AND THE HOLY SPIRIT
I HATE YOU ALL!

Now I lay on my bed in the middle of this destruction I made
I try to fall asleep, but I cry
This pain hurts
So much I weep
But in the middle of the night I hear Him
I hear His voice...

My child, have no fear
Do not cry
Do not worry
It was his time to leave
It was meant to be
He now lives in Paradise City with me

The word of the Lord
Amen.


Details | Narrative | |

Tough Love

Today my son broke my heart,
those hateful words, touched every part.

His life in turmoil, for his actions done,
I guess he just had to blame someone.

A son with only a mother, is very hard,
trying to guide him, I failed from the start.

A man in a way, and a child in the other,
I only know how to be his mother.

Regret I feel for asking him to leave,
but now it's time to worry about me.

Out all night, he never calls,
I stay up late, climbing the walls.

Dreading to hear, a knock at the door,
way past midnight, i'm walking the floor.

Tough love is something, I didn't want to do,
but the time has come, and this I had to do.

Good luck my son, now you must go,
this does not mean, I don't love you. 

You are a man, so stand on your on,
make a good life, make you a home.


Details | Narrative | |

They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse _ _ _ _
Now, they’re Looking for Us
Up and down the Street
Drive-By-Boys …. Packin’ Heat !

We Dissed’ A Gang-Sign
They Took… What was Mine
Left a Blood-Soaked Message
On A Pain Wracked-Package

… Is He Breathin’ ?
… or is He Leavin’ _ _ _ _
If He is… Then He Must _____
‘Cause They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse
Which left Us  Furious
Gotta’ Let em’ Know, We’ Serious
Do Somethin’ – Delirious

… We gon’ Take They Pulse !
Gon’ do something Perilous !
So – Infamous  !
… we took each other’s pulse _ _ _ _


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One On One

Men will fight, now that's a fact,
some have friends to watch 
their back.
One on one is how it should be,
not two to one, or so on, you see.
I had boys, and I know so well,
sometimes their actions,
will land them in jail.
You try so hard to raise them right,
but boys will be boys, and they will fight.
Posting bond, and questions galore,
why did you do that, they just stared
at the floor.
I'm a believer, in defending yourself,
but it's one on one, and nobody else.
My boys were rowdy, and their fuse
was short, they found out fast, don't 
take it to the street, this they learned,
when they had their day in court. 
Now they love peace, not rolling on the
ground, I lived through it all, raising two
boys in my town.


Details | Narrative | |

Let My People Go-part 1

       

Who was this man of long ago?
     Who told the Pharaoh to let his people go.
He called down ten plagues to prove his hand,
     To free them from bondage in this Egyptian land.
The Pharaoh was stubborn he would not budge,
      He refused this man he carried a grudge.
Till the last plague was released for all around,
      This one proved deadly as it came without a sound.
The firstborn male would die that very night,
      Proving to the Pharaoh Gods awesome might.
The Pharaohs son was stricken down,
       So he prayed to his phony gods in hopes to bring his son around.
He lost his son for the stubbornness he bore,
      So he released the people to be free once more.
As the people gathered and headed out,
     They were excited there was no doubt.
Then the Pharaoh had a change of heart,
      Decided he would bring them back which wasn’t too smart.
He had them trapped where they could not flee,
     Till Moses asked God to part the waters of the mighty Red Sea.
He raised his staff high above his head,
     And God parted the waters like Moses had said.
Moses and his people escaped safely to the other side.
     But this is where the Egyptian soldiers and the Pharaoh died.
They tried to cross but the waters came down
      Those in the water all would drown.
There is much more to this story that I tell,
      How Gods chosen people have a story that is written so well.


Details | Narrative | |

Greatest Treasure

As I walked through the park in the late sun's light,
Watching the people jog by and a bird's lazy flight.
An old man sat on a bench up ahead
With the sun's rosy glow glistening on his head.
He seemed so forlorn just sitting there,
The breeze gently ruffling his white, thin hair.
His hands were clasped around his trembling, knurled fingers
And as I came closer I decided to linger.
"Excuse me," I said with a smile,
"Do you mind if I sit here for awhile?"
His head came up as the old gentleman slowly stood
And he said, "I'd be honored if you would."
As we sat we talked of several things
Of things in the past and what the future may bring.
He spoke of the people who had walked by
Never looking at him or saying hi.
He was old, he said, and passed his prime.
He understood - no one now had the time.
People today have so much to do
Spending time with the old ones is not what they choose.
He had a son, he said with a sigh.
Who he feared was letting life pass him by.
His boy thought only of making money
And he seldom saw nature's beauty or things that were funny.
He was always in such a hurry dashing to and fro
That he would never have a chance for his soul to grow.
My eyes strayed from the man's wise face
And saw someone walking towards us at a very fast pace.
As he got closer he suddenly yelled,
"Hey, Dad, let's go, I've got a date.
We have to hurry, I don't wanna be late."
The old man looked at me with sadness in his eyes
As he rose and graciously told me good-bye.
He shuffled away, such a lonely old soul
Whose life's ups and downs had taken their toll.
"Wait!" I said, heading his way
There's something I'd like to say.
Thank you, kind sir, for talking to me.
You've been very enjoyable company.
Then quickly I leaned and kissed his cheek
On that face that once again had become old and bleak.
Now it lit up with eyes much brighter
As he walked towards his son with his step a little sprightlier.
But the son stood impatiently as his dad came his way.
Not realizing his greatest treasure was fading away.