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Prose Poetry Daughter Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Daughter

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

When the Time is Right

For nearly 45 years I never spoke of  that day; the emotional pain was too great.
I simply hid it in the lining of my soul, knowing in my heart you didn’t stand
a chance with me as I stood in the rubble of my life and let you go, wrapped
in my heart with a wish and a prayer- all I had to give. And for 45 years, 
I dreamed of you and me playing in fields of daisies under blue skies as
I cried inside, wondering where you where, and if there was a part of you  
that somehow would remember me- would remember the bond we made 
in that single moment we shared together, when the nurse held you up to the
nursery window for me to see as I  stood on wobbly legs, with my trembling 
hands holding unto a pole with a dripping IV?

I prayed. Lord! How I prayed that someday, by the grace of  God, 
you’d come back to me when the time was right. 

So I lived my life. Got back up and crawled out of the rubble that was me, 
and lived with half a heart that somehow still managed to beat.

With the passing of  time, I bloomed; sometimes red, sometimes blue when I thought of all the years we could have shared as I sat and listened to family and friends 
tell me of the joyful times they shared with their children, grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren as, I  smiled and  cried inside and dreamed of you, 
and all the years of your life I  missed and, all the years I would never know. 
It was then I realized I was a very lonely soul. So, I wrote and wrote and
wrote, never suspecting for a moment that  nearly 45 years later,
you would find me through a poem I wrote for you.

I know I can never replace the mother and father who raised you, for the bonds
of time shared  are  much stronger than blood. Yet knowing what a wonderful 
women you turned out to be, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate  
and now with a daughter  of your own, is enough for me, and someday  
when the time is right for you, I hope and pray , we will meet again.

                                               ~~~~~~

                                                 Elaine George 


This is a true story.  It was through this forum ( poetrysoup ) my birth daughter found me. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

YOU ARE THE ONE


l. Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite ambrosia: she would lift her anklets in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..” Evenings touched her candle hands; hands that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights; her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan; “night and day you are the one…” And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants. ll. From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me; her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights with each veil of her almond eyes that enter into my irises: a serene sight too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word. Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles and music walked me through reality’s maze. And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study, coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet, she stayed like a moth with charm flushed in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing . lll. And only Mom could melt my temper when my raging soul paused to wonder at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head… and now, she hovers around me. I become her eyes, chanting, “night and day, you are the one” ; never balking at my surreal conquests. She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights without question; with much love dripping from her graceful movement, straying all through these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…” Leonora Galinta's Poem For Mommy By: nette onclaud


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My God on Earth: My Mother

A heart that cries more than me 
in my pain. 
Whose congenial and benign teachings 
make me sane. 
A warm touch that dispels from me 
the gales of worry. 
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm 
protected by her under furry. 
A helping hand that always hold me 
whenever I'm about to lose. 
& my first teacher who makes me to 
distinguish between donts' and dos'. 
A voice and nothing more, an Angel 
who is entirely mine just after my birth. 
And she is none other but 'My Mother', 
The God on Earth. 
  
Although to define her in words is 
beyond my skill. 
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in 
my life, none can fill. 
She is the one who needs not a single 
word of me to understand. 
In my devastation, she is always there 
to provide effusively her hand. 
In the weariness of my life, with her, 
I may lose to be in link. 
But she ever remembers me whenever I 
breathe or my eyes blink. 
I can say that in search of heaven, 
I needn't to go anywhere. 
I would like to put my head in my 
mother's lap, as its only there.. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Message to You

Please dry your eyes, now don’t you cry...
Let me share with you a lullaby....
I used to tuck you into bed....
Back when you were young....and such a sleepy head....
Disappointments are many in this life we lead....
But I know you’re strong and will succeed....
Please trust in me for I have a message to send....
You will never back down or crack and bend....
It is your nature to love and be kind....
Negatives don’t linger in your mind....
You're still that little girl who once sat on my knee....
With those big blue eyes looking up at me....
So I would like to take this opportunity....
When there's not enough sun....and  too much rain....
Lots of happiness, and very little pain....
Just like the moment, when my heart did sing....
With all the joy that you did bring....
To each, and every one of us....
Without any fret and not much fuss....
I am very proud of what you have become....
And all your accomplishments of what you’ve done....
Unconditional love will never go out of style....
When your tears can be replaced.....
With this Grandmothers’ smile....


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Somewhere over the rainbow

I had heard this song by an obscure artist, with a twist as it played verses 
of 'Somewhere over the rainbow, with 'What a wonderful' world entwined. 
It's simply melody strummed on a ukalele mesmerized me as I listened on the radio 
in the car.
I remember saying to my wife, "I want this at my funeral." I was morbidly honest 
that way.
Several years later, I was watching an episode of E.R. in which our favorite 
character, Dr. Green discovers he has brain cancer, and a short time to live. He's 
basically given the advice we all wish to avoid. "You don't have long, retire, enjoy 
the time you have left."
 Dr Green, plans a vacation with his daughter, who's relationship has been strained 
since his divorce. For the next three or four episodes Dr. Green and his daughter 
spend his last days surfing in Hawaii. Mending the relationship slowly, to a degree 
of understanding only a father and daughter could know. He's still Dad, and she's a 
teen working on letting go of her resentments.
In the last episode of the story, he's not doing well. He keeps passing out and his 
strength is waning. He knows it's only a matter of days, possibly hours; but doesn't 
share this with his daughter, the scenary is of a bungalo on the beach, white sands 
surround the openness of the primitive bungalo, palm trees speckle the beach, and 
in the distance lies the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.
A day of surfing is suddenly changed as he suggests that his daughter go ahead of 
him, he'll stay back and watch until his strength returns. So he sits in a hammock, 
and watches out in the water as she strolls off to surf, Background music grows to 
this song I'd so loved, by and artist named Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo?ole and as the 
music is playing softly, the camera pans in on the face of Dr. Green for his death 
scene, and his last breath. The camera pulls back, from the back of his head, above 
the bungalo, above the beach as if we are Dr Green's soul departing this earth.
Yes, I cried like a little school girl as realized that my favorite character had just 
been erased from our show, with no chance to come back for a Cameo... What!? of 
course that's why I cried! OKAY! it was a tear jerker! and the saddest part, was the 
relationship with his daughter was still in repair . Moral of the story i guess-- You 
never know when its your time, so don't hold on to petty resentments, and love 
every minute of life.  

I later learned, Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo?ole; had also died






Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unconditional Love

In the warmth of a massive cozy bed, I lie
Enjoying the freshness of a washed sheet
Lost in a make believe world
Lovely enough, I can’t wake

But while in the deep of my fantasies 
I am suddenly awakened by my little one’s silent echo!!!

Her turns and sucks, 
Her little hand-full tummy, rumbling
Yet again, wet diaper.

Oh no!!! Why now? 
Sleep never felt so lovely
But I just can’t ignore this growl
Am I not her supper-mom? 

Sleep-walking; I grab some warm milk and fresh diaper
For who came from me, same flesh and blood!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Warrior

The strength of a woman
Is not in her tongue
Or the length of her hair
Or the songs she has sung

Control is not found
In the clothing she wears
Or seduction she offers
Or the child that she bears

Her honor and glory
Comes not from what shows
Except her reliance
On God that she knows

For God gives her power
Beyond height and length
And makes her much stronger
To display her strength

It’s there deep within her
And flows through her being
Revealing a boldness
And strength we are seeing

For man cannot crush
All the things she can do
For she is a woman
And warrior too


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WORLD WITHOUT WOMEN www

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


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

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Dearest Daughter

My Dearest Daughter

Melanie, dear Melanie, I know that you know my thoughts
are always about you, my concerns are always for you,
my heartache weeps for you, this you know
for there are numerous pages in your possession
that make it clear, unfortunately though
there are none that express the opposing view,
the view where joy, pleasure, the peace
you bring into the life of this single parent.
As I read over a note I wrote to you a couple of weeks ago,

“ Melanie, I pray that things will come back to that space,
a place we go and get us back to a life of some normalcy,
or at least as normal as possible for you and I,
where you might give over your anger, your hostility,
your pain, your frustrations, your external as well as internal
self-destructive behaviour to a more peaceful, beautiful young woman
– my lovely Daughter -  I only see in glimpses, as fleeting shadows,
of you caressing the corners of my eyes as you slip by
– like a summer breeze on it’s way to rustle the leaves on my tree –
on your way to your room, where you hide from me
or from your room, in stealth mode, to wherever it is you go
- this Daughter I love, no matter where her emotions might lie,
no matter how many she beats me with them
or the methods she uses to beat me with them –.
Please be back soon !!!, please do not be angry with me ???
              Love
                               Dad . ”

I realize, Melanie, that every time I write something to you,
It is always about some negative experience we have encountered,
or you have encountered that has a negatively affected me
and that I have responded to in words – words written –
for seldom do my words penetrate the walls you have erected,
seldom do they have opportunity to form in my mouth, to move my lips,
for your ears, like you, are so very, very far away.
I do not understand, why Melanie ?, maybe it is your age ?,
maybe it is mine ?, - I should be your grandfather –
maybe it is because of your experiences ?, or maybe ?,
it is the experiences I have created for you these past ten years.
I just do not know Melanie, I can not say, I do not have the answers.

Anywhichway Melanie, I just want you to know how much I love you,
- more than all the space that fills the heavens themselves –
how much you mean to me
- more than all the heavenly bodies that inhabit all the universes,
all the galaxies, all the dimensions, all the planes our minds our eyes
will be able to see, to perceive -
and how much of a delight you are,
- like the sun at dawn, in the twilight hour, at high noon,
like all the suns in all the heavens
could possibly radiate down upon this old soul.

I truly enjoy you as a woman, the person I am watching blossoming,
brightening up the time we spent at that house warming party
and again at Linda’s fiftieth birthday party in Maple Ridge,
the days we spent on the road, to Vernon, the stay, and back.
You were a delight Melanie, everyone could see and feel that,
as you wandered through those great times with all of us.
You are a humorous and beautiful young woman Melanie,
and it is not just words from a prejudiced old father.

                                Love
                                       Dad .


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I danced with the Devil but stepped on his toes

  I slide my tongue across my lips; I taste salt from where my tears once fell. The serpents been winning the race, Infiltration of my desires take procession, I’m standing in the mirror and I don’t recognize my own reflection.  It’s not the flesh but the soul that’s been disquised, every carnal temptation he’s devised oh how quickly I’ve come to oblige.  I need to hit rock bottom and slow my pace, at this point he’s winning the race, baking firm an eternal glaze upon my face. I care so much that I care not. I’m so hungry yet no food is sought. Feel so much sorrow that I’m not dolorous, sing so loud but leave absent the chorus.
   I’m vulnerable, looking for warmth in another’s touch, simply falling victim to his charms like a little girl searching for warmth in her daddy’s arms. Though, he provided no warmth, he didn’t provide much, just the foundation, the stepping stone where he left his prints; of course I followed with every step slipping farther from the grasps of temperance.  You can call me an abuser Lord, I abused your love, snapped the wing of your symbolic dove, snapped too the wings of thee angel upon the golden gate, funny how I just read Job and he knew not his fate.
  Thank you for trampling me into the ground, into the dust from which I roze, into utter darkness living with consequences to paths I chose. I thought you were guided me completely from the light, in reality it was never out of sight, even your own shadow leaves you in darkness. Give me the courage that I seek, give me strength when I am weak, and at times make me weak where I am strong. Give me positive passion for life like the passion in “Solomon’s Song”. 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Daughter

Daughter

The river bank is clam and restful
where I was sitting on a fallen dried tree trunk
brighter sun has become tender 
glistening with golden smile
setting behind the lush green canopy 
I recall the wonderful day you bone
In a sententious cool evening!

I was so impatience and anxious 
To see your little loving face
you wake up me by the first scream 
of your birth 
It was filled with alarm, sweet hopes and temptations to hug
the most wonderful gift apart from 
my son, you loving daughter!

Limelight of my future expectations bone
responsibility with love and care emerged
I guessed, my love, affection and tasks has broaden 
to protect you from evil spirits of the kaleidoscopic society 
just like the grey heron 
sitting under the canopy of water lilies
watching sharply the dangers of predators
while little ones practicing the hunting game, 

Silence broke by a melodious tone of a bird 
roaming over the near surface of the river
Its long dark shadow swinging on the 
light blue dancing waves
depicting the hard side of the future life challenges

I was trying on my best
to equip you with all necessary skills
to overcome future hindrances
with love, care and affection  
It is a never ending spring like this river
my dear daughter
I believe, you will never ever forget
even after my departure from you.
  

J.Weerakkody


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fish Lips

My father had a Dick Tracy nose, 
sometimes referred to as Roman, 
beneath which were his thick, full lips. 
His fraternal twin, on the other hand, had thin lips 
(Genes are strange things.). 
I don’t know where on the family tree either inherited them, 
but I do know that my father’s proved dominant: 
I have them, 
my daughter does,
(I no longer have any idea what her mother’s were like.),
my son does. 

I was never aware that mine were my father’s until, 
upon seeing a photo of her grandfather, 
whom she never knew, 
my daughter remarked that he had “fish lips” 
like hers and like mine.
I showed her a photo of her half-brother, 
whom she barely knew then, 
and, yes, there they were.

There are many traits that my father imparted to me. 
Sadly, not all were as wonderful as his fish lips. 
But I’ve been told more than once
that my kisses are soft and sensual. 
What more can I ask? 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Hand Poem

Hands…
My father’s hands are very twisted
They’re strong and built with lots of muscles
They’ve helped me learn
So many things as I have grown

In my life
They have helped me learn
How to ride a bike
They’ve helped me defend myself when needed
And I have come to realize
That without his hands to guide me
Through this world
I would not make it

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill
This was written by my daughter when she was nine.
One of the many reasons it’s great to be a parent :)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PORTAGE

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


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Late Comer

Spent and Battle Weary, the exhausted figure trudges the well worn path like the to-ings and fro-ings of some relentless seaside donkey. Utterly defeated,she resumes her rhythmic rocking, almost robotic in its ministry. No welcome here for this fretful form Out of time This usurper of liberty, predator of new found freedom, like the parasitic mistletoe as it clings to the enduring oak Consumes the spirit Outflanked by convention, choice simply a misconception, The woman capitulates before her adversary. The final shades of moonlight fade from the sky. The child, enveloped in the first vestiges of sleep, Surrenders its hold. The early morning sunlight precociously animates its shadowy dance; and Fairies cavort upon this tiny form, playground of elfins and pixies; the elixir, the effervescence in champagne. I brush the hair from the forehead of the sleeping child My heart is swollen No enigma here; only my daughter


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUE MR RIGHT OR MR WRONG

No one really knows 
The True Mr. Right or the true Mr. Wrong
They all come singing, the same sad song
Her dad once told her Mr. Right
Will choose the right path to God
Mr. Wrong would lie, cheat
Make your head go round and round
Mr. Right would have dignity and pride
Mr. Wrong, false promises then hide
Ever hear Trini Mr. right or a Trini Mr. Wrong?
Full ah ma-ma-guy, fake smile...man be gone
Remember, be careful choosing Mr. Right
Be fearful of Mr. Wrong
And analyze all, their sad songs...

©Copyright November 1, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander 
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Little Girl

He walks in with a ring
Asks my Daddy for his blessing
Tells him how much happiness I bring
Tells him that his little girl is a rare porcelain princess
And he wants to be my prince; he doesn't want to settle for less
"So please," he begs just say "Yes!"
Daddy just looks at him with a tear in his eyes and an emotional stare
He sees his little princess climbing trees
He sees his little girl crying over scraped knees
Sees his precious hugging him in past memories
Hears her telling him; "Daddy! I love you!"
"Daddy, it's a secret! Don't tell mommy please!"
He can feel her excitement when she goes on her first date
He can see her riding her first bike
Getting into a snowball fight
Daddy's little girl always gives him radiant smiles
Daddy's little princess always remembers to give him a good night kiss
She gives her symphony of love and generosity to the world
But she always saves a special shine for father
Going on hikes
Reading together
Riding her first bike
"Daddy, listen to this song please!"
"Daddy! Please come pick me up!"
He remembers all the happy and sad memories


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My daughter

My daughter had an abortion
She was hooked to alcohol
She slept with savages
She took drugs with cronies
She was sad and morose
She did not care anybody
She left school at 16
Went to reformation home at 18
Released at 19
And got pregnant at 20
She aborted a fetus of 25gms

This story may be noted my lord
She died at 21.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PINKY

Smiles, Hope, Dreams
Joy, Anxiety, Hushed voices
The thrill of the unknown
I lay in wait…….

Opening my heart, ripping apart my sadness
Tugging and lifting my happiness
I know it’s finally here……..

Forgive me if I do not spare you time
Understand me when I smile brightly
The cloud of uncertainty is no more
The rain is gone and the SUN has come

I smile, she smiles
I coo, she coos
I now know she is mine and will always be

She fills my days with untold pleasures and joys
An angel redefined
A pinky in her own shade
The treasure that fits the dig….

She hopes, she smiles
She cries, she sighs
She dreams

“My hand will be your grip,
My feet will be your path,
My eyes will be your sight”
That is my promise.

Arise now!
For your day has come to ascend to occasion
Wear your crown with honor, MY FRIEND!!

Today I pass the challenge over; so you may be finer as:-
A woman, daughter, sister
And someday, Mother…….


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HABEAS CORPUS

           HABEAS CORPUS


My daughter writes
Where are you Dad?
 When'll you come ?
Who builds walls between us ?
Even if you come , how will I
Recognisze you ?
Blood simmers-
I was safe in mamma's belly
The day you stepped down
With accompaniments
Mamma lost her sense
Today, my ninth birthday
No cakes , candles and guests
Where are you ?

Parents meeting in school
I stood alone embarrassed
My Miss holding me,kissing on cheeks
Friends say
You are behind bars
Is it Dad ?
All relatives swear my birth
Am I that doom'd
Tell me Dad !

Mamma weeps often
Looking at railroads
Down our flat
Says nothing-

My daughter writes 
When will you come
Mamma
Me
Where are you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When All

When all is said and done
At the end of the day
Week, month and year
At the end
When the finish is near
Nay, at hand
One thing will hold true
When the last grain of sand
Has left the hour
And the seconds have ticked away
When the last word
Has been spoken
And there’s nothing left to say
One thing will hold true
Through whatever time
Life has left
Till heaven and earth pass away
And eternity rules
Bringing life a brand new day
One thing will hold true
It doesn’t matter where roads lead
Nor how paths may cross
Doesn’t matter if directions are found
Or ways are lost
Doesn’t matter if freedom comes
Or at what cost
One thing will hold true
For when all have fled
And there’s no more to be bled
All battles have been fought
All conquests sought
When all that’s left to do
Is look around to see
Who’s left standing with you
One thing will hold true
Standing there 
I will be 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

'Garden' Of Silk


   
 
  The 'Garden' Of Silk, 
flying through the pale moon light.
Green and lush, such health
is seen by few, 
Earthy and rich the air so musky.
Blooming plants accented 
with a moths.
That resemble those butterflies. 
Figurines, of her beauty
resting on fresh cut flowers.
The scented silk only accents - 
each giant moth.......
as it spins vines of silk..
that seep all around her soft, 
sleeping face. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Melanie, my Dear Child

Melanie, my Dear Child .

I am sorry Melanie, oh so sorry that this early morning
has brought strife, such a nightmare into our home, our life.
Your life, my Dear, is far too important, far too precious
to place it in danger, put in harm’s way, throw it away
over anyone, any person, any boy or man.
There is not a person on this planet, in this universe
that is worthy or worth one drop of your precious blood
let alone your beauty, your essence, your life’s force.
I know that you blame me my Child, Daughter of mine.
That breaks my heart, it tears it apart, but not nearly
as much as you threatening to take your own life
over such a worthless cause, this no ware man / boy.
After all the pain, all the heart ache, all the disappointments
you have suffered during these passing months, this past year,
I can understand your need to strike out, lash out at me,
cause as much pain and heart ache to this one who loves you,
as the pain and heartache you have suffered at the hands
of the one you feel you love with all your heart and soul.
Understanding my Dear, I can ( although I wish I did not have to )
live with all this, what is unacceptable and I cannot live with
Melanie, is your desire to terminate, wanting to take, give up
your young life to all the pain and heartache, for all that pain,
all that heartache, because of all that pain and all that heartache.
For what Melanie ?, this child in a man’s body, this user,
this abuser of my beautiful Daughter, this manipulator,
controller, who takes and take and gives nothing - but psychological,
emotional, verbal and physical abuse to you and everyone,
his spouse, his children, his parents, his so called friends.
He has taken everyone for a ride, lives with his parents,
has had them evicted from a half dozen residences
- during your involvement with him – because of him.
All I can say Melanie, is love hurts and who do you hurt ?,
the one’s who love you, for they are easy, they are convenient
they are accepting, do no strike back in kind, do not abandon
and stupid, in so many ways, is not stupid, for he knows this,
even if he knows nothing else and that is why he continues on his path,
to steel, to pawn, to sell, to use and abuse everyone who cares.
I pray Melanie, at this early hour – four AM, before the dawning,
the dawning of a new day ?, I pray – that you are letting go of all
your hostility, giving up on all your anger, your fears and tears
and get back to that woman who shared  with me, yesterday
and the few days that proceeded it, when understanding prevailed.
Be Melanie, Melanie, not all the pieces of another – others.
                                     Love
                                       Dad
B. J. “A” 2
August 27th 2002


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heaven is a different Sign - To My Daughter

Heaven is a different Sign - To My Daughter.
While even children, 
to your brother they did ask unto you as well.

Riding the bus home from school naught being taught 
by their parents,that inside is a mind where it's light 
some have made the heavans darker
to avoid what was done by they whom all love.

If I am blind that is justice for you,when they only say.
And those Robes are to me so much darker at night.

How come each new day do I think a mircle will happen,
not only for me, but for you and the future it must.

and "Heaven" is a different "Sign" - to me, 
beings and such are you and my daughter,
when I think like them they do nothing about it.
and My shame for them just continues to grow
like the robes colored purple wrapped all about them. 




is it poetry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Note From a Dirty Old Man To the Hurtin' Virgin with a Plan

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
wishing well, wish them well and sell me your sex and your candy!
it's hell and it's storming outside at two nineteen in the am morning,
dawning cums too soon, and damn it I'm hungry and I'm horny.
wishing well I can smell you and I can tell too, you want just what I got for you.
slide my way, convey that curve, serve that nervous purr right over here. steer 
me in. let me tickle you dear, if your cunt was aligned with your ear, I'd wax 
that true and through just to feel what you hear, Do you hear me wishing well? 
Don't you shy away and get all pissy! I know you've missed me with all that 
classy ass, finally figured out it would never last, from the way they won't let you kiss me. listen missy, I know you know what I've got and honey dew you know it's name is the TRUTH, well Truth be sold the well's getting cold, only one thing left to do. Letme dig dig deep deeper into my sack of gold, Truth be told, the Truth certainly hurts and you can't handle it honestly loosening your folds. Lay back baby doll, blindfold those crystalline eyes, sigh sigh, lose control, the fat facts are swollen inside your watering hole, deep deep beneath your thighs. listen listen, glisten as I christen your cries. Wishing Well, we both can tell this Truth serum's swell has cast a spell that crests the ocean when you lie. don't lie to me. the Truth gets drier when you try. the Truth will bruise and ruin your pie.
mean whipped cream right in your lusty crusty eye. What a dirty old man AM I!  
To De-Virgin-ize Skinny You with Girthy TRUTH to soothe your sinful LIES...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apart From Me







Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly. 


Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found  here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains. 


Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue. 


His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.     







Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sad 'Porn Star'

The Sad 'Porn Star'
Most are like this face, i see.
Open much too wide, how i cry.
Starting out to young, heaven was, 
i know, simply i was to much too.
Beyond pleasure, even in my darkest, 
sadly it is even now.
One after the other, 
always so heavy and all the trees now, 
i gasp are much too tall for me.
famous for what and too who, 
no feelings do i have left to prove
deep inside and besides, 
i now cry rivers.
looking at him today and how i once thought, 
between all the sets he now conveys.
he whispers to me in my ear my 'Dear, '
once i was young and sweet like you and i was.
now there are to many hands involved and it's
business not pleasure that brings them all out.
and the light how it hurts my eyes and your skin
is too soft to stretch like this, play your part.
do you want to go back home too Kansas, 
when we are both done.
..
..
Is It Poetry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Game

Rap is quick, witty and fun.

Poetry is smooth, rhythmic and heartfelt.

Rap and poetry had a love child.

A daughter, named Spoken Word.

She grew to maintain the better characteristics of her parents;

From Rap, she took freestyle, freedom, and grass roots movement.

From Poetry, she took imagery, theme, and voice.

Together, all three, as common forms of expression,

spread to every rapper, poet and storyteller in the world.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pondering continued

"Still no good, 
try harder and harder.".. 
Prove this, 
prove that... 

Everything in life- 
Big task... 
I can do anything... 
And I can, 
no satisfaction, 
nothing was good enough... 

"You're wasting your time,
you're wasting your life... 
You can be more, 
straighten up... 
Use your mind.".. 

I did... 
I did and it still,
ain't good enough... 

Task, test, test, test... 

More things to prove... 
No-one happy... 
I wasn't good enough, 
do better, you're not stupid...

"Use your talents, 
stop wasting them... 
Why are you like this??". 

And I wonder, 
why do you push me??. 
Why can't you accept me??. 

I've tried, 
but I focused on the wrong... 

"You could do better... 
No, yes, no, yes, 
better", they say...

"You can do it, 
you just ain't trying.".. 
You're stupid
if you can't do this or that... 

Why do you do this to hurt us??. 
Why can't you be like so and so??".  

But so and so isn't no better...

Why be competitive??. 
Why do I know things that are beyond??. 

Why was I stuck in a situation,
that I am someone??. 

When I feel like, 
I'm no-one... 

Why was I pressured and pressured??.  
Why only me??. 
And why was I always to blame??. 
And why did so many people,
fall for me??. 

But turn their backs on me... 

What did I do??. 
Nothing... 
Why do people treat me like I'm an artifact, 
like I'm a a God??. 

Why??. 
Am I me??. 

I am EVERYONE!!!

Written: OCJ or GCI in 1997


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sometimes I Ponder page 1

PONDERING--

I seen myself, torn away... 
I knew, this was going to kill us both... 
For we seen each other as, 
someone else... 

We thought the same, 
we shared the same feelings,
 thoughts,
and pain... 

Two broken hearts, 
two souls, 
hiding, 
afraid.. 

"Why should I Love?.. 
For this is more pain... 

I'm afraid... 
I don't want to hurt, no more...

I'm tired of looking and now,
I've done it again... 
I've fallen in love... 

How can I be so stupid... 
I guess, I'm just looking forward, 
to a broken heart... 

Torment and Pain... 
Two minds possessing these thoughts... 
I don't want to live in pain... 
I deserve a chance... 

I've proven--
well I tried to prove everything... 
But it seemed to be so hard,
to Prove my Love... 

Is it the hardest task to prove?.. 

So stupid to think about, 
WHY??  
Why did so many do me wrong,
what did i do??. 

How do I know, how can I be sure, 
that this won't happen again??. 

Is there really someone out there,
that understands??  
Is there someone out there that actually feels, 
the way I do??  

Is there someone out there for me??

The worlds against me, 
everyone is out to get me... 
I wasn't meant to be happy... 
I was told I was evil... 

I was told, nobody would ever put up with me... 

I was always different 
and hard to understand... 

I never harmed anyone, 
never meant to, if I did...
But it always seemed that I did... 

But how?..  
I never done anything wrong... 

But I was accused constantly, 
over and over...
I was the cause of some mishap....

But how?.. 
I wasn't even around, 
even near any mistake made... 

But it turned out to be,
my fault... 
I was easily accused... 
I took the blame, 
to avoid a big controversy... 

I was always wrong...
Everything I did, everything I said,
and every thought in my head was wrong... 

"You're not thinking right... 

Evil thoughts, 
you speak of evilness...
You corrupt, 
You torment... 
You destroy 
and ruin every-ones lives... 

Bad luck, misfortune..". 

Nothing I've done was good enough...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Almost Time

It’s been a while since you were announced
It’s nearly time for you to arrive
I’m about to see you enter into life
A life I helped to create
The time I’ve known about you
Seems to have passed too quickly
And now before I’ve realized it
You’re about to be born
For it’s almost time
It’s almost time to meet you
To teach you what little I know
And to learn far more from you 
Than you’ll ever know
Where have these last months gone
I haven’t had time to learn
The many things I should
I haven’t had time to forget about myself
For the sake of someone else
My God, it’s almost time
To let go of these feelings
I haven’t yet understood
To be flooded with new ones
When I first see your face
It’s so strange and new
To love someone so much
That I haven’t even met
I can’t say how your touch is going to feel
Or how you will change my life
I only know it’s almost time
It’s almost time to try

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Already Nine

My oh my
Where has the time gone
It seems like only yesterday
I was told you were mine
And now here you are
Already nine
This birthday I have to miss
But it makes me remember
And say thank you God
For having this little girl to kiss
To hug and snuggle
And watch as she grows
From the little babe
I once held in my hands
To the girl
I now hold in my arms
One day soon
You’ll become a woman
Leaving me with all these memories
Of how special it is, and how lucky I am
To be able
To watch you grow

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Last Night

Last night we went to see a friend
Who has a little baby girl
And it makes me love you even more
The warmth, the smile in your eyes
The love dancing across your face
Makes me dream of the day
When that friend will come to see
You and me
And the little baby girl
We will make together

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father's Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Shutting Down Arby's

Tonight, oh what a night it was
Nearly five hours spent
At a fast food restaurant 
Laughing and talking our way through life
Who else but you and I
Could get kicked out
For shutting down Arby’s
So folks could go home
We spoke of life
Of love lost and found
Of sex and dreams
The devil and Holy Ghost
We talked of beliefs
Work and foolish friends
Of places to travel
And goofy things we’ve done
We spoke of fantasies 
And how people are
Of puppies, kittens and relatives
Of future goals and lost hopes
Integrity and the things people think about
We asked why people
Are the way they are
Remembered childhood moments and scary movies
Came to know each other
Just a little bit better
Laughed at our life
While we joked about
Shutting down Arby’s
Such a unique distinction
To have done such a thing
But then again 
It was time well spent
Between a father and daughter
And all I can say
For letting it be so
Is thank you God

NOTE*** May all father’s have such a day. Happy Father’s Day


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Things To Be Learned

They say that in life
Each day brings things to be newly learned
Today at age thirty, I found that to be true
From none other than you
Though you’re just past four
I’d just finished yelling
Over some silly wrong 
I perceived you had done
And like adults so many times do
I only saw it from my point of view
After I left the room
I heard you crying
When I returned, I found you in the corner
On the floor sobbing
When I asked what was wrong
You said I really didn’t want to know
When I convinced you I did
Boy, you really let me have it
You said I didn’t need to yell
That you could understand
I didn’t have to scare you
That you had feelings too
That there are some things you didn’t know
Cause after all you were only four
It was then I realized, that yes
You are a person too
And things don’t always look the same
From your point of view
And that as we go through life, you just like I
Have feelings, thoughts, things you don’t understand
And so much each day to be newly learned

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Told

I didn’t seem quite old enough
Barely more than a child myself
When I was first told
I didn’t know quite what to say
Hell, it didn’t seem that long ago
I used the words myself
It didn’t seem that long ago
I called him daddy
And there was a special lady
I called my mom
Now here I am
Not yet sure of who I am
About to be called the same myself
Not knowing how to handle the feelings
The joy, the amazement, the wonder of it all
I never felt such a thing
Never felt so, so unworthy
Or had such a sweet song to sing
As when I was first told
How can one such as me
Be blessed with someone like you
It’s something I’ll wonder all my life
It’s a day I’ll never forget
When your mother
First told me about you

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stranger 'in some' Strange Land

  I Wonder lost, 
tired and afraid; 
an epidemic
in reverse
unto it's self repeats again.

How was I raped? 
Was it from the act? 
Did I do it to myself? 

Did some one tell you to.
To keep the home.
To keep the land.
To keep the child.

Without blame to roam 
the land
consumed in flame 
your brain.

Before her birth, I thought
you had disposed of 
like the first.

I never saw.

I know 'I' Raised my voice.
I never struck out at you.
Pink pigs that fly 
off all alone.

Dipsomaniacs full cup
of sweet white pearls.

How were you to live 
the way you did.
With all your wine.


Here I sleep, 
while standing up
alone
alone and all afraid; 
I whom swam with sharks.
I whom fought off death
so many times before.

I have now lost all count.
Gone not any more.
No not now.

Does my,
little healthy daughter.
When you are drunk each night
again,
must she fear what you might
say to her each night.

I lay awake for her.

Did you not think out if any
or at all,
about her life you took.
When you took
my soul from her; 
Her virginity before
it had evolved.


Her life, 
My hopes
Her dreams
one day because of that.

I wonder lost untill that day, 
like spring, 
that never comes around.

a 'MOTHERS' day with out
May flowers.

Like a
Stranger 'in some' Strange Land, 
walking on crushed skulls
of they whom came before.

What should 'WE' do with those like you.
Whom waste the men and little girls.
On 'Evil' such as you. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the 'Last milking'

the 'Last milking' they said, 
who ever heard of a last milking, 
but for the condemned
the Victims have rights too
it was legal.

It was after all within thier hands, 
and considered moreover how odd
An anonymous last request.

 Who would do it.
It would have to be witnessed.
In three hundred years.
It had never been considered.
Yet, I knew some how.
But that a storm was coming, 
Looking out, 
within that vast sea of witnesses.
Asking and 
dumb founded as every hand came up.

And when it came.
Then it came, CRASH! 
The team in there panic, 
Carried it off much too quickly. 

The creamy-white milk 
swished out down through the pipes.
They thought they would milk it out, 
for weeks if not days if even for an hour.

And the 'Doctor' reluctantly, 
pronounced the date and time
once again beating death.

The rehearsal is carried out 
over and over and if this is not hell
People lets get this done one more time.

Is It Poetry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Year Gone By

Has it really been a year gone by
Watching the flame of
The single candle on your cake you try
I think back on the year gone by
From hearing it’s a girl
To holding you in my arms
I don’t know who’s grown more
You or I
I remember when your eyes first opened
Wondering what it was you saw
The first time you smiled
I was wrapped around your finger
A year gone by of late night feedings
When I laid you to your mother’s breast
The times you needed changed
The times you needed held
The times you simply slept
I remember them all through the blur
Of the year gone by
I remember when you first left your mother’s breast
When you first tried to touch you knew not what
The first time you giggled
Your shock when you first rolled over
How quickly you learned to crawl and explore
So many things you did I remember
But my fondest memory of the year gone by
Is how I’ve learned to give love
And set aside myself
For someone much more special than I
Has it really been a year gone by

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill
As the lead single it comes with a music video viewable at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlWpKk_J2bA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Big 'Not' So Easy

  is it like..
placing an inner tube..
deep inside...
then slowly inflating it..
untill you think you are about to die...
and it keeps on being inflated...
and inflated...
untill you scream for it to stop...
thinking you must and are about to burst...
yet it keeps on growing..and growing.....
moving...and shorter of breath...
fuller and wider with each passing breath..
yet like 'death' it still feels like...
being stretched so wide and pulled apart..
it grows even worse and worse inside...
you truly think..
blinding white lights..what did he know...
where was i thinking from...
and you think that this time that you will die...
and then you don't...
you can't as more and more of it swells untill..
you wish it could be just ripped right out and
when it does..
and with a gush some times awake some times 
asleep it comes..
and you know that it was worth it when she smiles..
she her name is Caroline... 

Is It Poetry 

 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Want You To Know

If I should die tomorrow, I just want you to know
Just how deeply you have touched my life
And how much you mean to me
To have been able to hold you during your first breaths
To have been able to watch you
As you’ve grown for these nine years
Is the greatest thing I’ve ever done
I was fortunate in my life
For I got to see you learn to crawl, to walk, to talk
To brush your teeth, even your hair
I was there when you first two wheeled
I was alive to hear you laugh so many times
I was able to hold you when you cried
I heard you read and learn to spell
As I’d watch you sleep at night
I knew I didn’t always do things right
There’s so many things I could’ve done better
I should’ve thanked God so many more times
For blessing me with you
I just want you to know I’m proud to be your dad
And should a time come that I’m no longer here
And you feel like you’re alone and need a friend
I want you to remember
There’s no space, time, life or death that can separate us
I will always be your dad no matter where I am
I will always do my best to help
And you must always try to do your best
To treat others like you and to be yourself
Cause you, just being you
Made my life so worth living

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

And You

The first time I looked into your eyes
I knew my heart was gone
The first time I held you in my hands
I found new meaning to my life
I’ve known you for three years 
I’ve watched you crawl
And learn to walk
Giggled as you learned to talk
And you, you are my life
And you, you are all life means to me
When I’m, when I’m with you
There’s no place I’d rather be
There’s good times yet to come
Sure to be a few bad ones in between
Only sure thing is
I’ll be there for you
As long as I’m alive
No matter what you’ve said or done
You’ll have one sure place you can come
You’ll always have a place
That you can call your home
And you, you are my life
And you, you are all life means to me
When I’m, when I’m with you
There’s no place I’d rather be
And you, you are my life
And you, you are all life means to me
You’ll always have a place
You can call your home

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE HACK

Out of the yard,daughter Bev and me,on a hot summer day of Eighty-three.Hastoe 
to Cadsden,there and back,eight hours in the saddle..for our first all-day 
hack.Onto the canter path,down to Paines End,through Fox Lane our route did 
wend.Into a copse ,missing branches low,keeping the pace to an even flow.Up to 
Dunsmore,past the Black Horse,via Little Hampden we followed the course.Past 
Chequers and into Pondswood,down the hill to reach the pub.
Tethered the horses to the garden trees,ordered a ploughmans,with pickle and 
cheese.Feet up awhile for a long rest,enjoying a pint of the landlord's best.
Into the saddle,no time to laze,off at a canter in the heat haze.Back in Hastoe as 
the clock struck four,to stack the tack on the stable door.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Daughter Vs Moon

She told me she lost the luminescence that used to line her silhouette at night--the Moon herself--she was fierce, we met at night--the Moon herself--I followed the intense glow she had left behind for me, with this clear vision, I knew we were meeting on her terms. 
She wants what belongs to her! Her luminescence is now outlining my 3 year-old daughter's frame. I left, knowing that the battle between Daughter and Moon is at its birth and far from its autumn. I am biased. Unbroken from my encounter, I left her---walked back through the same streets accompanied by darkness---we both looked at the luminescence at a distance---and as it grew closer our breathes became more controlled, uncertainty and desperation began to dissolve and our confidence was growing---we knew we were approaching my daughter's eyelids.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Much Too Fast

Did I fall asleep and miss a part of your life
You’ve grown so much, much too fast
Was I so involved in day to day life
That I simply didn’t see you grow
Wasn’t it yesterday you took your first breaths
And I heard the cries of your arrival
Wasn’t it yesterday you took your first steps
And now, now listen to you talk
Where have I been, what have I done
How could I have missed
Seeing how much you’ve grown
Both the year just gone past
And your growth, has happened much too fast
Listening to you tell of your day gone by
Of all your new found friends
And all the things you did together
And what you plan for tomorrow
It’s hard to believe you’re just past four
Seeing the person you’ve become
How well you comprehend the things about you
It makes me wonder
How much you think I care
And if you truly, truly know
How much I’ve missed seeing you grow
Seeing you today has made me realize
That my struggles against everyday life
Hold very little meaning
If I don’t take the time to look into your eyes
For my life, like your growth
Goes by, much too fast

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit

http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Discovery

Well, you finally did it
Though you fussed and fought
Kicking nearly every step of the way
Once I turned you loose 
There was no holding you back
Watching as you tore through the grass
I saw you discover a new found freedom
And declare a form of independence
I knew right then and there
That what had fell into your tiny little grasp
Would never be let go
I could see in those little eyes
Just barely five years old
A stronger burning fire
Than I’ve seen in eyes ten times as old
It was the first time I knew for sure
My little girl would be all right
No matter where life’s path might lead
For in that instant of discovery
You did so much more
Than learn to ride a bike
You tasted what having freedom
And independence brings to life

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

and 'Ladies'

 
  and 'Ladies' young and old
do you even know
when i go into the grocery store
and how they come all around me
and i
not even paying attention
as they watch me squeeze this and
squeeze that
and they being all that you are
some what more and some few less
and they
take my hand and place it there
and in my hand they squeeze it
they squeeze it harder than they should
but i'm not paying attention 
and as i'm thinking about squeezing
that which needs to be squeezed
in my mind i am squeezing it more
and watching some become flushed
there faces grow dark and pink
so many
and so many my head spins around 
looking down as i feel
all of that juice run free
through my hands
and all of my critical thinking
has left me it's gone. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Help Me To Be

Looking down on the new born child
Our Father gave to us
I quickly looked to the years we have ahead
And asked Him, help me to be
The kind of father I should be
Lead me through the restless night
When our child lies awake
And the times she’ll need a change
Be with me through her younger years
And help me to calm her fears
Give me the words to say
When she comes for advice
That I might lead her
The straight and narrow way
When I’m about to show my anger
Over something she’s said or done
Please remind me
Of all I’ve said and done against Your will
And the love You show me still
But most of all enable me
To be a bright and shining light
So when it comes time to choose
Between what’s wrong or right
Our child will know
And want to share
In Your never ending love
God, help me to be
The kind of father I should be

NOTE*** This is from my CD A Father’s Love Letters
To listen to the CD please visit
http://www.reverbnation.com/#/mikehamill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day After Your Brithday

THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY,
YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR TO SEE:
A) YOU'VE GOT A ZIT FROM EATING ALL THAT CAKE;
B) YOUR LOVE HANDLES HAVE EXPANDED A HALF INCH;
C) YOU SINGED YOUR EYEBROWS BLOWING OUT THE CANDLES.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY,
A) YOU REQUIRE SIX EXTRA HOURS OF SLEEP;
B) YOU CAN'T FIND YOUR LIVING ROOM UNDER THE BIRTHDAY DEBRIS;
C) YOU WONDER HOW YOU COULD POSSIBLY HAVE DONE THAT.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY, IT'S TIME TO:
A) RETURN SOME GIFTS (WHAT IS THAT, ANYWAY?);
B) CALL YOUR FRIENDS AND APOLOGIZE FOR YESTERDAY;
C) GET OUT OF THE COUNTRY, FAST.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY...
WE SHOULD ALL LOOK SO GREAT
AND HAVE IT SO GOOD!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
APPRECIATE YOURSELF AND YOUR LIFE!



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Trees

 
  1) ..Every time... I take a breath.
2) ..I think about... the trees.

3) ..Knowing that....deep down inside.
4) ..Each breath you take...no longer can I clean. 

5) ..Is it True...your love I sought. 
6) ..When on my skin... you carve your heart. 

7) ..When here...upon my limbs birds nest. 
8) ..While knowing that each root...I need.

9) ..If leaves are words...one poem makes.
10) ..And making none...you strip my branch.

11) ..Where then will you..hang your swing.
12) ..Looking up..why do I see..a heaven without trees. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Divine Intervention

Beautiful little girl
Devastatingly beautiful
The birds would start chirping when she walked past
Her mother’s daughter they all said
A mirror image
 
And suddenly she was shocked by love
5 years old being undressed like a doll
Caressed and bathed so lovingly
Such gentle touches
That no one suspected
 
Mother found a new piece to her heart
Wedding bells chimed
And a new father was born
5 years old she was…just 5
 
This beautiful little girl found love in her “new” father’s arms
He held her close, sometimes too close
But no one suspected
She didn’t know this love was pain wearing a mask
She learned that love was…
Shielded from the eyes of her mother
Night visits to her room from her father
Year after year
For 15 years this was the love she knew
 
She felt invaded, alone and abused
She told her mother
About her new father…the man her mother loved
She didn’t acknowledge, wouldn’t bring herself to see
What the water so clearly replayed in her view
The mother knew, just knew
That her husband would, couldn’t ever
Never…bring pain to his daughter, never
 
Little girl, what does it feel like to be loved?
It feels warm, and wrong but gentle
Strong hands unclothing you
Caressing your body as if you are a grown woman
With a glorified body to worshipped and pillaged over
Little girl, what does pain feel like?
Closed doors…darkness…my father…naked
Hopeless
 
Beautiful little girl
Devastatingly beautiful
Pain paraded as love
Molestation masked for discipline
When your daughter cries out
When she cowers in corners
And doesn’t trust the dark
When she says love is just another word
Just another synonym to let him abuse her
Trust what she has to say…
 
I was that beautiful little girl and now I am a woman plagued with fears
Some nightmares you cannot outrun
And some memories only God can wipe away
The blood of all my pain is on my mother’s hands
"I forgive you"
Beautiful they say…
It’s a mask for something more