His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.
Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.
His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.
Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.
My window sill is laden with little stones
Of no particular color, shape or size
Given to me as if they were diamonds
By his little hand, my own special prize
Each one had its small story to tell
A recital of just when and where it was found
Washed and polished with loving care
Oh the stories, they went round and round
Small things make up the embroidery of life
The joys that carry us through our days
Like a collage of colored stones on the sill
A small thing, precious in its own way….
For Anthony's contest....
Wake up little “Sleepy head”
It’s time to rise and shine –
Get up out of that old bed
There are mountains yet to climb.
Put on your shoes and sweater
Take a walk amidst the trees –
Come listen to the sound of loons
Wafting in the breeze.
Wake up now little “Sleepy head”
The hour is drawing near –
For you to dance and find romance
And the path that you must steer.
In this carousel ride on which you fly
Throughout this life you’re living –
Come find yourself and all you’re worth
And learn the gift of giving.
Wear that pretty purple dress
That matches your dark eyes –
And don’t forget to stop and rest
When rainbows fill the sky.
Wake up now little “Sleepy head”
The flower garden’s near –
Waiting for you to plant some seeds
That will sprout anew next year.
While you look for love from high above
And in everyone you meet –
Today it’s time for you to find
Diamonds at your feet.
Wake up now little “Sleepy head”
It’s time to move along –
No more waiting, hesitating
To find where you belong.
O holy night when Christ was born,
And in a manger laid;
What love decreed that God should be
The child of a maid?
O holy night the inn was full,
A stable near at hand;
O night of prophecies fulfilled
When Caesar taxed the land.
O holy night the shepherds watched
Their flocks upon the field,
And, lo, the angel of the Lord
With glory was revealed.
"Fear not, behold, I bring to you
Good tidings full of joy;
For unto you is born this day
A Saviour as a boy."
Then suddenly the sky was lit
By angels filled with mirth,
Proclaiming glory unto God
And peace to all the earth.
The shepherds said among themselves,
"To Bethlehem we'll go;
For something great is come to pass
And this we wish to know."
They came and found the newborn babe
With Joseph and his bride;
When they had seen, this news they spread
Throughout the countryside,
And all that heard did wonder great
At things the shepherds told;
But Mary pondered all these things
Within her heart of gold.
O holy night when God was praised,
O night when hope returned;
O night when angels spake aloud
And skies with glory burned:
O holy night when Christ was born,
And in a manger laid;
What love decreed that God should be
The child of a maid?
~ Based on Luke 2:7-20 ~
~Written for "Here We Go A Caroling". First Place Entry.
Do angels really come to earth,
And sit beside me by the hearth;
And do they watch me through the night,
And keep me safe till morning's light?
Does God really send them here,
To keep me safe so I won't fear;
And do they watch me night and day,
And stay close by me while I play?
Do they watch me climb each hill,
Just in case I take a spill?
God must love me very much,
To take such pains to keep in touch.
"WHOEVER RECEIVES ONE SUCH CHILD IN MY NAME, RECEIVES ME;
BUT WHOEVER CAUSES ONE OF THESE LITTLE ONES WHO BELIEVE IN ME TO STUMBLE,
IT IS BETTER FOR HIM THAT A HEAVY MILLSTONE BE HUNG ABOUT HIS NECK AND THAT HE BE DROWNED IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA."
"TRAIN UP A CHILD IN THE WAY HE SHOULD GO AND WHEN HE IS OLD HE WILL NOT DEPART FROM IT."
For Children In Rhyme Contest by Francine Roberts
Your going has left a hole in my heart that time,
The Great Healer, cannot repair.
Your going has left a hole in my existence
That forever and beyond will not heal,
A hole ever expanding from its own nothingness,
A hole through which all the goodness,
All the kindness of you is slipping through.
You were my sounding board.
Trite ideas offered, came back
Enhanced, brilliant and sparkling.
Borrowing intelligence from you, I grew wiser.
Doors opened before me as I strove to be worthy
Of you, my beloved son.
I go on now as you would have me do,
Searching in Nature for the joy
You found in its wonders.
Hearing bird songs with your ears,
Relating to others with your empathetic instincts.
Striving, ever striving to be the person
And mother that you believed me to be
And never letting your memory grow dim
For those you loved and for whom you sacrificed.
You came into this world with a wisdom
That did not come from me.
I thank God each day for His lending you to me
For the time that I had you near
And I cling to His promise
That I will see you again.
I could not tell from whence you came,
Born with a wisdom that did not come from me,
And I do not know where you have gone,
Part of myself, the better part--into Eternity.
Originally entered as verse
A Letter to my Son
Your going has left a hole in my heart
That Time, that great healer cannot repair.
Your going left space in my existence
That forever and more will still be there.
Ever expanding from it nothingness
A hole from which your goodness has slipped through.
The kindnesses you wore as a halo
Have disappeared as well since I lost you.
I used you as a sounding boad to measure
The wisdom and the beauty of the world.
Your ideas were so clear and brilliant,
Through you my own best aptitudes unfurled.
I'm trying to live up to your standards.
I want to be more worthy of you, Son.
You told me once I was the perfect mother,
And with you life was such a lot of fun.
I thank God every day for loan of you.
The time we had was more than worth the pain.
And now I'm clinging tight to his promise
That some day I will see you once again.
I do not know from whence you came,
Blessed with wisdom that did not come from me.
Each day I pray I know where you have gone;
Taking my heart into Eternity.
A small grave, and for it's weeds was bare
with only a handmade wooden cross.
Easy to see that a child rest there.
Poor unloved young soul was my first thought.
Well I read this cross, for this child of grief.
"John my young son so frail and fair
my joy, my love, my life I leave
to the arms of your mother and Lord's care."
The back read; "To doctors all my money I gave
I cannot buy even a simple stone
with a borrowed spade, I have dug your grave,
I carve this marker, and am now alone."
That wooden cross, seemed to rise
high above great marble markers.
Thoughts rush my mind as I realized
the pain this poor man's heart had harbored.
Never again his son he will see
knowing his child would rests under cold ground.
As unkempt as this grave seemed to be,
with it's wooden cross and it’s weeds all around.
I pulled at those weeds with my bare hand
then my flowers I laid at the foot of that cross.
I prayed "Please God, help me understand"
as I felt the pain of another man's loss.
She cried and screamed what's wrong with me
I believe I'd sell my soul
To find out why this anger haunts me
Why do I lose control?
I always hurt the ones I care for
It's a battle every day
Do I hate myself so much
That I'm pushing them away?
Her self esteem was taken away
When she was just a child
Adopted at the age of four
Hungry, abused, sexually defiled
How can we as human beings
Turn and look the other way?
Animals don't treat their young like that
Will there be a judgement day?
Flashbacks come and stir the fires
Of the pain she can't forget
She lashes out unthinkingly
Then her heart fills with regret
Teach her to love the person she is
Install a sense of pride
Teach her to look within her soul
And see the beauty deep inside
Don't turn away when this anger comes
Don't give up on this child in pain
She'll give you a world of sunshine
If you hold her through the rain.
If you hold on long enough, the child doesn't have an excuse to quit on
herself. Too many, parents, foster parents, adopted parents give up too soon and
the child becomes systemized.
Mommy loves me more than laundry
More than dirty dishes too
She’d rather spend her time with me
Than doing things others do
She would rather play with me
Than take a nap or sew
I love Mommy ‘cause she loves me
More than any TV show
She’s always there to pick me up
And love away my tears.
She prays to Jesus every night
To keep me from my fears
She gobbles like a turkey
And loves to dance around
I always smile; always laugh
She’s better than a clown
She’d rather eat her food all cold
So she can feed me “HUM”, and
Then wipe my face and clean the
Walls and floor of food I’ve flung
Mommy makes the greatest faces
When I do something she likes
But, saves the best for when she finds
She’ll need the baby wipes
She mostly talks like grownups do
But tries to talk like me
She hasn't mastered yet just how
To speak in baby-ese.
If there’s just one thing I could say
To Mommy when I’m grown…
“Thank you for who you are
And the love you’ve always shown.”
On the way to Parkview hospital,
while driving along the Pacific rim,
under a thick blanket of fog,
our car pushed hard against a northeast wind
A winding road through muddy hills
The highway strewn with mud and soggy leaves
from patches of leaning eucalyptus
Wild scatterings of tall and ancient trees
Around each curve a reddish glare of headlights,
forked, and slashed their garish designs
upon your father's anxious face,
I took deep breaths and counted time
Lights accentuated the grimace of his angst
He kept silent, in such firm distraction,
and curiously seeing his face light up in the dark,
eased the grimace of my own contractions
Silhouettes of signs and trees
flashing by in lightning's fury
Windshield wipers keeping rhythm
Our new found light showed us where to turn
and soon we curved around the bay,
the winding road led where we learned
young confidence... can show the way
You found your way into our arms
to a place that owned our hearts
You wrapped us with a cord of charms
and changed to light, a night so dark
When morning came to take you home
The sun broke through across the land
And new adventures waited then
A brand new winding road began
For Kelly Deschler's Contest: "Just Down The Road"
Waking up in the dark of night
barely four years of age.
My world is wrought with fright
not knowing my life would be a stage.
That little girl long ago
was innocent… pure…
but now she is who I no longer know.
My mind is a disease for which there is no cure.
At day I have no rest.
At night I can not flee.
Sanity is a rare guest
and when he comes I can’t see.
This is my curse so real:
I can’t forget
the dreams, and ‘reality’ surreal
is something I’ve never met.
So chirp, little robin, chirp and sing!
For today once more you entertain well.
So be merry, let the world its troubles bring!
For tonight once more you feast in sheer, bloody Hell.
Your ability to remember
will be your curse to flee.
Each year, January to December
You will wish you had not known memory.
This poem has been deleted due to possible publication.
We are children from birth to the grave
searching for love, desperate for a home.
Look past the facade, the eyes shining brave
to see the innocence, the child who roams.
We are children from birth to the grave
sharing our hopes from a candle of light.
One burns on the sill, our promise to save
the child once lost in the perilous night.
We are children from birth to the grave
with dogged desire to shed aging skin.
On a quest, we seek the purpose we crave,
each breath exhaling the fear still within.
We are children from birth to the grave
cradling offspring with smiles like our own.
Freed from the past, we forgive brutes and knaves
until in sleep, the child cries with a moan.
I’ve placed it in the most visible place
This old photo of black and white
Taken in 1943, the edges worn and frayed
Papa, Mama, Winnie, eyes bright
Though one by one they’ve all gone
They’ve left legacies of love, faith
And the sweet memories linger on
This beautiful photo transmits
When I look at their eyes
Warmth and gentleness residing
Dressed in their best, wearing subtle smiles
Beauty is captured, surviving!
Inspired by a beautiful photo of my parents and eldest sister...R.I.P.
My heart is on Your shoulders,
And You are lifting me up.
With every spoken tender gesture,
I fall a little farther in love.
They said you may not make it,
They said it couldn’t be.
You may not leave the hospital,
May never come home with me.
A baby born this soon,
Is too small to make a sound.
So, don’t expect to hear him cry,
Like the healthy babies around.
You showed them from that moment
That you had other plans.
You came into the world crying,
Kicking, moving your hands.
Then, they said it would be tough,
And they couldn’t have been more right,
But you proved you were strong enough
And showed how you could fight.
They said your brain was damaged,
You may never talk, or see.
But, now you babble for hours,
And quickly reach for me.
They said you may not walk,
Or ever learn to crawl,
And I can’t keep from smiling,
As you disprove them all.
They that said it was doubtful
You would walk away untouched.
But I stayed ever hopeful,
For the child I loved so much.
See, Mommy never doubted,
I knew right from the start.
My thoughts were often clouded,
But I listened with my heart.
I heard a constant voice
Saying, “It’s not up to them
Hold strong your faith, I have a plan,
And a special one for him.”
You are child of God,
A miracle from above.
Sent to prove His mercy,
And the power of His love.
I have fallen victim so many times
To nobody's fault except only mine.
I will ask for forgiveness and have faith,
Even though I feel like I am not saved.
We had taken our boys out to a theme park one day
They could run around wild and burn some energy away
On the return trip from the gift shop they did ask to buy
A plastic sword, a shied and a pair of toy handcuffs, I didn’t ask why.
Two days later they asked if their friend could come to play
“Of course not a problem” is what I did tell them that day.
Within few minute they came to find me, they were crying
Their friend was in the handcuffs, they can’t release him although trying.
Each turn of the key to unlock the offending restraints
Instead of unlocking them it tightened them, to his little complaints
I put all three boys in the car and drove to the local fire station
To find it was a part -time one, it was a deserted location.
A cleaner I spied working hard, so I did ask help from him
"Go to the police station" he said, giving me a wink and a grin.
A bit strange I thought but only for a little while
I had to free this child, so I said “goodbye” with a smile.
This young boy now with tears in his eyes
Looking so lost and afraid, which is no surprise
Into the Police station I walked feeling really bold
"Can you please free this child? You have cutters I am told."
A big burly officer looked, and then he walked up to me
Took one look at the child and said sarcastically
“We will fetch a female officer to sit with the boys
“While you come with me, and explain a child, in sex toys…”
“What on earth are you babbling about my good man?
Just unlock and free that child as fast as you can”
“I’m sorry madam” said he “but there’s questions to ask”
“Why did you lock a child in handcuffs? What was to be your task?”
“My good man what are you suggesting, that I locked him in?”
“Don’t be absurd are you stupid?” He just gave me a grin
Another officer entered with three pairs of bolt cutters so big
The poor child nearly fainted, he had little arms like a twig.
I asked them not to scare him, he was only a boy
They told me they still needed to know about the sex toy
On freeing the child they took the three boys away
They asked them who had locked him up, and was it in play.
My then ten year old son admitted he had done the deed
He didn’t think it was wrong, he thought he could be freed.
Finally satisfied enough, they let me leave with the boys
With a tap on the shoulder the policeman urged me to buy
‘padded sex toys.’
© ~GG~ 5/12/2012
An oh so true story lol
Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!
Another year turns over, people look to see
just what the coming year will mean for you and me.
Tomorrow's worries aren't here, and yesterday's are passed.
Daylight's your new blessing, but it's really burning fast.
The seasons change so quickly, now that we're growing old.
"Seize the day my son", seems I was always told.
You cannot live life over, and you cannot take it back,
so make a first impression, be a leader of the pack.
We hurry every day, never noticing the minutes
flying by so quickly, time has no sense of limits.
Just talking all the while, we have such tales to tell.
If only every now and then we grab a rose to smell.
Take time for those you love, and those who love you, too.
For tomorrow some of them might not be here for you.
Teach your children honesty and show them some good deeds.
Because love will never flourish if we never plant the seeds.
Within the shadows of a weakened mind
Like children huddled in the night,
I see a blanket under which to hide
To save me from my fearful plight.
Unlike the child whose savior is the dawn,
My fears survive the light of day
And grow within a devil child that's born
To feed upon a faith decayed.
As terror grows from Satan's dreadful seed,
And thorny roots entwine the heart,
A plaintive cry within a soul that pleads,
"Oh Lord, please save me from the dark."
For darkness without faith pervades the light,
And evil fear invades the soul,
Yet shrinks before my God's eternal might
And runs from blessings I extol.
The sun breaking dawn in the morning,
That invisible stream called the breeze,
The blazing burnt sunset at nighttime,
What magical mysteries are these!
Even the pulse in the city:
With ornate neon signs all aglow,
Is a castle in the eyes of a child,
Filled with wonders only they could know.
Strange to think that there's everyday magic;
Quite unlike what we read in our books,
But the world is filled with such wonders
So long as we know where to look.
Dad came home with a packaged parcel
when I was just a boy.
A special gift he'd bought for me.
I had hoped it was a toy.
He placed it on the floor below
and nodded that I open.
I reached for it and fully smiled;
bulky and utopian.
And knowing that my parents bought
a gift from both their hearts,
I schlept next to the box contents
and pryed it up in parts.
At first sight, there emerged a truck-
One shiny, big and red.
I gawked excited, my eyes glued fast
and paused to breath then shed.
That night I played around the room.
The floor my second home.
That soon I tired and fell asleep
inside the box and dome.
By morning I had made a home,
a window and a door.
I parked my truck outside the box
leaned back to sleep and snore.
I napped and played throughout the day:
the box more fun than toy.
I saw my parents laugh at me,
and I just smiled coy.
The box was more than I expected.
A toy more than all toys.
A box a noble thing to have,
to play inside with noise.
A box to do most any thing.
To raise me and to guide.
Now that I'm older and think back
my parents loved the ride.
I'm older now and have two kids.
I think I'll buy them gifts.
and knowing what I know of parents,
I'll get a box that lifts.
A cardboard box that's square and simple.
A love of boys and girls.
A home with doors and windows,
that bounces, plops and whirls.
A cardboard box straight from the heart.
No greater love of parents.
One kid's can laugh and play inside.
A love that is transparent.
My memory fades like an early morning fog
But you my son I know by heart
The impossible miles you alone have trod
An uphill climb from first breaths start
Fluid filled those vacant places
Where only your brain should have claimed
Of a viable life the prediction was traces
For a life that would be horribly lame
Those Doctors didn't conceive you
You were mine from beginning to end
I said "he's my son not a knot to undo
When termination was suggested and penned
I loved you then and I know you now
Every obstacle you've overcome
A 3.7 GPA you've made it to manhood somehow
I knew to that prognosis you would never succumb
Of every therapy under the sun
You would never quit or complain
Though your struggles were bitter and stung
You took pride in the promise of your name
Josiah - Healed by God -
A humble man in the kingdom of men
Now I see you promised to a beauty
The wife I hoped for you then
Soon your quest to be a teacher
When you've earned your final degrees
In the eyes of our future you'll be a leader
The proof of what belief can achieve
Your spirit is tenderness
Your ways are sweet
You abound in being real and generous
And acquire the love of all that you meet
My son with eyes filled of turquoise and brown
Know this... if my memory entirely in time depart
My pride in you will forbear my lips to frown
For my son, I know you by heart!
Can I chase the butterflies?
Can I catch a bumble bee?
I'll keep asking how's and why's,
Because I am only three.
I see the world innocent.
I just want to run and play.
My cheeks have a rosy tint.
My hair is colored like hay.
Can I have an ice cream cone?
Can I have cake for dinner?
Don't ever leave me alone,
That's my mommy, I love her.
I can't pronounce marshmallow,
But I sound real cute trying.
I tell everyone hello.
Mom loves me when I'm crying.
I get into everything.
I have curiosity.
Mommy loves me when I sing.
Life is great when you are three!
For Contest: Not Just Any Quatrain
Through his eyes, see that magical tree
See how it glistens and shines, so free
See its magical ray
Help him make of this day, his own day!
Dreams, hope, passion, all are in his eyes
All emanating from his belief in the skies
A belief given to him on a cold night
By the one to turn off his room light
In his smile, see how the world goes
Devoid of any useless sorrows
Always made up of countless of bows and arrows
Given by the one blessing all our tomorrows
On his face, see the beauty of joy
All because of one given toy
Given for the cause of the holy birth
The birth of the one who showed us our path
And in his hands, holding his colorful gift
Feel, feel, the change in mood
From saddened loneliness to exaltation
Such, such can only be at the time of a child's christmas
A child, blessed to be on this earth
A child unfortunate to have, over his head, no roof
A child missed by none
A child you pleased and blessed, with only one gift!
Twenty brand new angels
arrived just yesterday.
Frightened and confused
they only wished to stay
with parents now left empty,
and shattered beyond belief.
Their babies’ precious little lives
stolen by a spineless thief
with evil in his heart,
and killing on his mind.
Dear God where are you now?
It’s getting hard to find
a reason for the carnage,
and the acts of the insane.
Can we still find eternal love
surrounded by such pain?
Now twenty brand new angels
who only yesterday did die,
and with them, too, the innocence.
Why, dear God, why?
for the Sandy Hook children. RIP.
Emma was a frail little thing
Lying there in her hospital bed
Tethered by tubes to this mortal life
Not a hair on her tiny sweet head
As I cared for her medical needs
She sometimes spoke quietly to me
Her spirit was strong even then
A wonderful soul I began to see
She asked me not to be sad for her
As if she knew something I did not
Not it seemed, the least bit afraid
But so tired of the fight she fought
I never saw her sweet face again
But remember her I always will
She was the essence of bravery
When life is difficult I think of her still
The name “Jesus”
When He was a Jew
The name “Christ”
When He was baptized to Christian
There was a schoolboy,
He would always say,
Why do bad things happen,
Why must we suffer in this way?
A wise man answered him,
It's because of sin,
Adam ate the fruit,
In the Garden of Eden.
It's so not fair,
He would say,
Because he ate,
Why should we pay?
The wise man asked,
But why should we go free,
Because one Man,
Died on a tree?
He pointed to the cross,
Where our Savior died,
The boy scratched his head,
His ears open wide.
We were cursed by just one man,
Then saved by another,
It's all part of God's plan,
Which is fair he discovered.
Should I slice it length ways or width-ways
Which way will be the best
To give each one a half
So from their arms the child wrest
They claim they are the mother
But each one cannot be
I wish I had the given by god knowledge
To make the decision that needs to be
Solomon must have prayed for
The wisdom needed back then
To give the child to the rightful mother
And not the spiteful hurting harridan
How he knew just what to
Was inspired of god
He knew the real mother would acquiesce
When confronted with the cutting job
How I wish to be like just like him
To make decisions and see the sense
But not only that I’d like
The wisdom to know the difference.
Mandy Tams:entry into the Serenity Response Competition
"Wisdom to know the difference"
Today, it just doesn't seem fair
That we are still able to breathe.
They have given us their air-
Our duty to lead the life they leave.
People grow up wanting things,
They never had as children;
And so remembering "empty spots",
Constantly strive to fill them.
Acceptance, love, material gain,
Small hands reach out to grasp them,
Too often finding once in hand,
It's not enough to last them;
And so we work to fill the need,
Still finding more to strive for.
It isn't greed or selfish pride,
Oh No, my friend, it's much more;
And though we strive for all our years,
The child within will hunger,
Still reaching out for solace as,
The need inside grows stronger,
Until at last we understand,
The reason for our hunger,
For if you want a child to grow,
Then feed the entire youngster.
Feed body, soul and spirit too,
The whole child must be fed,
Or else you'll starve yourself to death,
By simply eating bread.
"AND HE HUMBLED THEE,AND SUFFERED THEE TO HUNGER, AND FED THEE WITH MANNA WHICH THOU KNOWEST NOT, NEITHER DID THY FATHERS KNOW; THAT HE MIGHT MAKE THEE KNOW THAT MAN DOTH NOT LIVE BY BREAD ALONE, BUT BY EVERY WORD THAT PROCEEDETH OUT OF THE MOUTH OF GOD."
Things have changed worldwide today, but not the joy
Of spring. The sounds I heard when yet a child
Of cataracts tumbling with joy, the air rinsed of alloy
And magic in all things pastoral, all things wild
My son walks around the place a walkman to his ear
He will not hear the sparrow's song
Shall not know the canaries in gold are seen here
His dreams to the automaton belong.
Look at them, their feet all wrap, expensive in plastic
Shoes, they cannot feel between their toes
The water river running free, cornered in this tragic
Sense of progress, full of unbalmed woes.
Here where the sun laddles her warmth down the sky
On bowl of stoops made from concrete
They collect to laugh, as maggots lad by a fly
While green grass and park lay obsolete.
Before there was a phone, my mother called down
The mountainside and telegraphed her joy
A new grandchild swaddled in the rising sound
Was introduced by what tradition employed.
We ran to school eight miles away and never grew
Obese, that training unclogged us to learn
Something each day by nature brought to view
Wrapped in beauty, and made us yearn
For things we could not make, love, honor, freedom
A sense of greatness beyond our state
A simple ant could teach us prolific vaults of wisdom
A patterned sky could be a living slate.
I watch a hare race all about the woods,
Along with children from the neighborhoods.
Stiletto claws of hawk pounce on a mouse
While I am watching from the wooden house.
Today I watch the rain slide down the drain
As silver-threaded drops still drip in vain.
I love gray days when rain's contained in pools,
Almost as much as I love watching fools.
I watch and wait with great intensity
To change my range of brain activity
Indigenous to journeys near and far
Beyond Orion's belt to every star.
A child must stay a child inside the wild
When childhood as a child has been defiled;
For then is when the watcher comes alive
To help the minds of children to survive.
I pray away demonic thoughts that play
Upon my troubled mind in every way,
But prayer and medication stem no tide
Of fulminate psychosis I abide.
My dreams seem quite disturbed I must admit
And hope that most will fail to ever fit
Inside the pride that hides in memory
Where rarely can one find reality.
Both father and fair mother lie in beds,
So cold and dead since I split wide their heads
To see if I could see why I am me
With hope to change my future history.
Tomorrow I may borrow your fine mind
And peek inside to see what's left behind;
I hope to find the wine of wisdom's soul
Then hide your borrowed brain inside a bowl.
Quatrain Poem (23 Stanzas)
Halloween Story-by Trevor McLeod
As a child I remember well
how Halloween would interest me.
When school would end and I'd head home.
The leaves ground low and chasing me.
The air was cool that I'd feel light
and scents of leaves gave strength.
As I would rush into the wind
and think of home in length.
Where mom stood by the counter
and tea sat on the stove.
It's cozy sending signals
in mom's eyes by the drove.
My father came in early.
The rush was on the night.
My parents and my sisters
excited by the plight.
Slow to reach the table.
Cautious in our manners.
We all sat down to supper
content as little planners.
Quick to leave the meal.
My sister first to flee.
We rummaged through our costumes
deciding who'd we be.
For clothing we had everything.
All we'd mix and match.
We thought of our ideas
for costumes that we'd hatch.
I knew already what I'd be.
I searched through clothes with zest.
Till soon I found a simple mask
then later found a vest.
This night I would be Robin.
A hero of the night.
The clever Batman's partner
who loved a challenged fight.
I almost had it all.
A costume near complete.
Until I saw the panyhose.
The thought that made me freak.
My mother shot towards them
strengthened by my choice.
Then boldly said she'd dye them
in green with full rejoice.
The time soon brought the darkness.
On time to trick or treat.
As anxious as we were
we're scared with lighter feet.
We stepped out in the cool night
fearing we're to early.
Then when we reached the second house,
began to walk more surely.
And surely was the way I felt.
Now floating in my tights.
Why Robin every wore a mask
was just one of those blights.
Free to leap to peoples doors.
The breeze between my legs.
A Catholic I thought quick of sin
while fast upon my pegs.
The time I saved as I could run:
in tights seemed nowhere there.
collecting candy door to door
not acting like I care.
The night went by in simple grace.
My leaping in light bounds.
Contributing to much more candy
and look some said astounds.
Arriving home when it got late.
My shame checked at the door.
I said that I would do it again
and shook right from the core.
I stepped inside with greater zounds.
My sisters home awhile.
All holding bags of trick or treat,
they dump them in a pile.
My mom and dad are quick to speak.
They warn us all of blades.
They tell us throw our apples out.
Don't take a chance in spades.
I dumped my bag out on the floor.
The kisses everywhere.
While not my favourite candy made,
I'll trade for something fair.
We chomped the candies for an hour
till bedtime saw us done.
We quietly slipped into our beds
all tired of having fun.
Then as I lay and start to think
how Robin lived with tights.
I remembered all the candy got
with speed -and maybe frights.
Hello Coach Bob,
I just thought I'd write
A note to tell why
I missed practice last night.
I could say I was sick,
Which was kind-of-sort-of true
But you would not believe that
Sort of thing, would you?
I could say I was busy
With homework and chores, too,
But that is not an excuse
That's strong enough to do.
I could concoct a story,
Unbelievable, but true!
About robbers and car crashes,
But that would not fool you.
I don't know...what's the use?
Could I just say I'm without excuse?
Wait...there was no practice yesterday.
Guess I don't need to write this anyway.
Twas the night before Christmas
Twas the night of his birth
But the little boy Thomas
Was growing much worse
Thomas was sick, and he was not getting better
This sweet little boy
The doctors together
Had brought him one toy
A round little bear
With a smile so bright
It made Thomas not care
He was dying that night
He and the bear snuggled and smiled
The bear and Thomas
What a beautiful child
Twas the night before Christmas
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
Girls exchanging numbers
and boys exchanging knocks.
Some are picking blueberries.
Some play in the moss.
Some are throwing grass bombs
as far as they can toss.
All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
All around a nickel
we made so that it shocks.
Early Christmas morning I glanced outside,
and no snow was falling, and suddenly a vision of a luminous light
with a trembling child appeared in sight...
and could this have been the Infant of prophecy and might?
And He softly said with the sweetest and kindest voice,
"I bring you no snow but endless love...the warmest flame
that makes every forsaken and unhappy heart rejoice;
it's a gift so gladly given to all the believers of this blessed age."
Struck by that splendid appearance, unafraid,
I ran to thank him for those wonderful words,;
and not having seen any gift under the decorated spruce,
I seemed puzzled, but not fearful or nearly surprised.
There it stood, my gift from that generous child with golden, curly hair:
a purple spring crocus never seen before, an Alpine flower
which grows in early April in every emerald meadow...
I leaned forward with much gentleness and plucked it from the cold snow.
When I stood up, he was gone and not a trace of him could be found,
and who was that cherub without wings...to leave that flower in the bitter cold?
Wasn't He the Christ Child who was born in a Bethlehem's abandoned stable?
And wasn't hope the meaning of the purple spring crocus so beautiful?
She had ten little fingers
and ten small rosy toes
she wore a gorgeous smile
and a little button nose
she laughed the sweetest laugh
and her skin was soft and fair
around her face, dark ringlets
she got my curly hair
she had her daddy's eyes
a vibrant greenish-blue
she was my little girl
that never made it through
By Morgan Mise
Written November 3, 2012
Raise up a child in the way he should go,
And when he is old he won't stray;
And teach him the laws of good common sense,
To ensure his well being, and pray;
And remember to teach by example as well,
For in preaching he hears only words.
He must see these ideals at work in your life,
To accept them in his and concur,
To live each new day the best that he can,
And cleave to the straight, narrow path;
For they learn what they live, these children of ours,
And today's all the time that we have.
"SCOLDING AND SPANKING A CHILD HELPS HIM TO LEARN;
LEFT TO HIMSELF HE BRINGS SHAME TO HIS MOTHER."
He came into your world
at just the perfect time
His eyes were fixed on you
the cries you didn't mind
His mother was so proud
an heir to keep the name
You bragged to all your friends
life never was the same
He watched you every day
quite often mimicked you
The words you chose to use
he often spoke them to
And now the son is grown
his ways are fixed and firm
A child he soon will have
his ways that child will learn
The children at the table,
all bowed their heads to pray,
and said what they were thankful for,
on this Thanksgiving day.
Then last to speak
was little wide-eyed Pegs,
"Thank you, Jesus," she prayed,
"for making turkey legs."
A baby is born to the world
So innocent and pure
Whether it's a boy or a girl
How long will it endure
No telling what it grows into
It will live as it learns
Want it to be better than you
Should just give it it's turn
Nurture it with your love and care
The thing that you should do
If it's ever feeling despair
Believe me you should, too
It's future is out of your hands
The day it's a lady
Or the day it becomes a man
No ifs, ands, buts, maybes
How can a mother not hurt
when her child cries out in pain?
How can she turn and look away
when there's so much to be gained?
If only her heart would open
and let God show the way,
to happiness and love everlasting.
For this, I'll always pray.
Is it possible to just feel nothing
towards the child you gave away?
Please say there is at least a hope
that you will love me again some day.
When I look at my child I feel love.
I could never turn my back.
But you never felt that way towards me.
Is it something that I lack?
DID YOU SEE WHAT TRAIN THAT LITTLE KID GOT ON?
When your good friends keep dying around you life ain’t so great
You ask how they died while fearing the answer
It’s always something devastating dispensed by fate
Sometimes it’s drugs, and sometimes IT’S cancer
Or, by the way, did you hear about Jersey Chuck
What a way to go, getting hit by a train
You know, after all is said and done and I’ve said oh f**k
I think the trains is best because I believe you get hit so hard you don’t feel any pain
And let’s not even discuss when a friend’s child dies
Funerals, eulogies, weeping moaning and tears
All this for a five year old lad with intriguingly opaque eyes
All that for a child only on this planet for five years
So thus far we’ve established that I’m a coward and weak
And that getting hit by a train is good if it’s death you seek
Today a really close friend died whose sister and I went steady
And I guess the universe wipes you away even if you’re not ready
© 2011.…..Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
A lonely path, in the dark it moves on
It meanders within the deep, dense fog
Along the way there are many roses
Some of which lay on an old decayed log
Twenty-seven in all, each an angel
All of which had their life cut way too short
An ending that was abrupt and so quick
Tears run down my face I sadly report
No more is there any children’s laughter
The families weep while in such great pain
It seems that when things like this do happen
The days are always darkest in the rain
May we can console them as best we can
Light a candle in honor of these few
If we could all band together as one
And show our love, this is all we can do
Dedicated to all the victims of the Newtown tragedy!
Entrant into SKAT- AB SIN THE-'s "In Memory of the 20 + 7 new angles of heaven~ "our own little poetry soup VIGIL"" contest
We'd been shopping one eve, he was just 26 months
But my son's little legs could carry him no more.
'Twas the week before Christmas, the stores were lit up;
So excited was he but he curled up on the floor.
So tired and spent, he slept like a babe
In the midst of the aisle of trucks, toys and pegs.
No doubt he was dreaming of a bright Christmas morn.
He was just 26 months, with fat little legs.
Now he's 26 years, 6-feet tall and so thin;
His legs are much longer, like two skinny twigs
And he can shop on his own for hours on end.
But I'll always remember those fat little legs.
© ELR 2013
Oh happy childhood
Just full of glee
Was a child more happy
Than a child like me ?
Some days were bright
Some days were sad
But they didn't last long
As childhood isn't very bad
If I had been good
I was happy as a lark
If I had been bad
I was afraid after dark
Now as I have grown older
I know what it means
When after darkness
Come bad dreams
For when we are good
The world is bright
But when we are bad
Its darker than night
So friends just remember
When life seems weary
There may be some things we can do
To make life more merry
So if we walk in the light
The world is all bright
But if we walk in the evil way
My friend , it will never pay.
Written by my Grandmother, Mamie Rachel Sterling/Sinner/ Earl
I have a superhero
His name is Picket Tupp
Before you count to zero
He'll have picked it up
If the baby drops a toy
It's up before it's down
That super-tidy Tupp boy
Won't leave a thing around
Grandpa could have broke his neck
But Picket saved the day
Picked the peel up from the deck
Where Junior left it lay
I've another super friend
Her name's Poteeta Whey
If it's out, you can depend
It's rightly put away
When some kids can't find their stuff
They're like a mental case
But she'll find it sure enough
Because it's in its place
From New Year's to December
You'll always make Mom's day
If you will just remember
Picket Tupp and Poteeta Whey
August 5, 2014
Why did I take this job - playing Santa Claus?
I am so uptight from kids’ thunderous jaws.
"I want this - I want that." They call me a fraud.
They have yanked at my hat; my beard they have clawed.
As one Santa to another, hear me out
Let me sit on your lap awhile and just spout.
Greed has tricked us all with the goal to defraud.
I’ve thanks for a gift that we all can applaud.
I have lists of my own, my grasping at straws.
But this weekend’s sad news makes me stop to pause
and thank God for the gift of life He supplies.
I wish for patience to see kids with His eyes.
Look at you sitting there
With your chubby hand
Holding my heart with your laugh
Knowing where I stand....
Sweet Baby Starr
I know where you are
Starring at you sleeping
Listening to your baby breath
Waiting for your laugh
Hearing the morning sounds
Under the white mounds
Praying a mother’s prayer
While stroking your golden hair....
You are the reason I could fly
My baby Star
You are the reason I feel so alive
My Baby thats what you are...
Look at you growing up
Asleep upon your bed
Holding your teddy bear
Felling such love and care...
With your little arms around my neck
Oh Lord, forgive me I yelled
For some little mistake
That she made
My little Starr....
Kissing my little ones tear stained face
Promising to be better
With each daily light
Holding each other tight....
Chasing the fireflies
In the hot humid night
So tiny she was
But oh so bright....
She sat on the table
Swinging her little legs
Her body as at ease as it could be
Her thought at that time
Was telling the jokes to me....
The little girl sat by her mom’s side
“Mom, when will I grow up?”
Patience dear, it will be soon enough
Star said to me...
Sweet sixteen her first schools dance
Oh where did the years go by?
“Will anyone dance with me?” She asks me why
“Patience, my dear soon enough!”
They said you were wild
I said you were free
They said you wouldn’t listen
I said you would to me.....
Young girl grew into womanhood
And marriage she did go
Love came and love went
Finally one true love endured....
The beautiful bride looked
Towards her mother
“Can I make a marriage work?”
“Patience, my dear, patience, soon enough”
Mom it’s Valentine’s Day
I want you here with me
I feel like a litle girl
That I want to be
Will I ever be able to see you again?
In the heavenly skies....
A cold autumn day, the last leaves
Falling from the trees
Tears falling like rain
It was to be...
“Mom when will I ever see you again?
This is Baby Starr, looking for you”
Soft upon the wind came the reply
“Patience, my Starr, soon enough, soon enough!"....
BROOKE DYLAN 2014
On a far away hill a glorious star shone so bright
As shepherds watched their flocks at night
An Angel of the Lord came down
And the glory of the Lord shone around
The Angel had no gold or diamond under his sleeve
Nor scented beautiful roses to give
He came to herald the gospel story
With many angels appearing in a heavenly glory
Gloria! Gloria!! The hosts of angels cry
We bring you good tidings of joy from on high
To you this day in the city of David a child is given
To crown the earth with joy and the love of heaven
When all hearts is filled
And the songs of Angels are stilled
When the star in the sky is gone
And Christmas begins at dawn
A voice was heard in the sky
A glorious voice was heard from on high
Shepherds heard a voice and found a Lamb
They found a savior, they found the I Am
The Poet Preacher © 2013
Then the Shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told them. Luke 2:20
Tonight somewhere another Mary knock vainly on our doors
Another Joseph would pay anything for you to let him in
The powerless, the dispossessed, the broken on our shores
The children wandering on the streets stigmatized with sin
A teenage pregnant daughter, an idealistic boy, a child cold
And shuddering in wintry snow and rain, their body marked
With graffiti of grief, O too pierced and blemished to be sold
For anything but a diminished dime, for bed only in the park
And on pondering city stones the cops boot irreverent pounds
"Get up! you cannot sleep here, clean this garbage, go home!"
The cold law without compassion, the barking of hell's hounds
The fragment sleep, the figment dream, a city wide to roam
But home, but home, no, O no! Not that pale brittle place again
Not the silence of the voice, not the agony of inner shame
Not the torment of abuse, the battered beast breaks the chain
And streets are solace of the pain, the rage without a name.
What abandoned building is the inn, what bridge the manger
What throw away child is the Saviour's mild muffled cry
What needle, what prophetic pipe, what project is the danger
The mule is pregnant with the dope, and foul heroin fly
What magi will tell us, what star will mark the maggot space
Where homeless children come to sleep, and begin anew
Their journey for the cross? O love by theories now defaced
Give us grace to save a few, courage now to rise and do.
CHARMED BY A CHILD’S CHEEK
You are every iridescent sky I’ve ever seen
You are every picnic upon a carpet of green
You are the laughter of each child I’ve ever heard
And you make my heart soar like every freedom’s bird
You are every Sunday with breakfast in bed
You are every squiggly squirrel I’ve ever fed
You are every butterfly that ever flew by
And you are every hello to everY goodbye
You are every daisy for a lover ever picked
You are every ice cream cone a child ever licked
You are every statue carved of marble and perfection
And you are every rippled lake’s lovely reflection
You are the blush on every child’s silken cheek
You are a youthful game of hide and go seek
You are where music is made out of magic
And you are why I am able to forget the tragic
You are the memories that always make me smile
You are the reason I am able to tread mile after mile
You are every wondrous offering Mother Nature has to give
And you, my sweet, are the sole and only reason I wish to live
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
The bush out back
where children play.
some trees, some rocks.
A love to say.
The house out front.
It's porch cement.
The dog tied up.
His dropping pent.
Your parents home
where light is warm.
You come in late,
Somewhere there is hidden in a new generation
someone filled with a need for knowledge and inspiration
he or she is taking notes on life and the nature of man
a child with a most definite and effective plan
somewhere there is a child with an answer
and that child holds in his or her head a cure for cancer
although it could be years from today
when this child speaks we'd do well to hear what they have to say
somewhere there is a child with hope in her heart
and a mindset to know where Einstein gave up and that's where this child will start
he or she could receive medals, ribbons and a boost to their moral
with the spirit to be free from ignorance and its corral
a two car garage means nothing to a person with more on their mind
nor does all the gold a miner could ever find
this child is brilliant, sensitive and beyond bright
but none of this will occur because this child was killed in a drive-by last tonight
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
what do we bring to sacrifice,
to the altar of our fears
will the fear, itself, suffice
to wipe away these grieving tears
here, a satchel i take in stride
through the machine, my will to cede
and here, too, a bag of my pride
that it turns out, i didn't need
that old man has a video camera
and a young one totes a backpack
can we turn them outta here
for the bravery that i lack
and the child so innocent beside her,
that woman there with righteous shawl,
are mother and child vengeful saboteurs
would a flash of hate burst my wall
do i send my firstborn far away
did the world change to get more hate
is that the price my dread must pay
is that all my fright can relate
when i stand on this serene beach
is evil banished from my sight
is the violent tsunami out of reach
if i waive some liberty, some right
should land's crust pull asunder
and an abyss drop before my feet
would relinquishing fear pull me under
would, then, i go down in defeat
my god, what must i do to appease
when i stand before some conflagration
to vindicate, to assuage, to please
must i change my life's foundation
or can i only fear fear itself
to live as those i remember might want
take life day-to-day from off the shelf
without hate and fear, my dreams to haunt
Armageddon might be without love
but my world today is more than this
i refuse to live life devoid of
love and empathy and a bit of bliss
© Goode Guy 2011-09-08
Laughter about us
While the children play
The sunshine has faded
The sky turned grey
An innocent child
Out in the rain
Sounds of a distant
Yet inbound train
These are the things
Of a neighborhood park
With playground and benches
Tables and basketball court
A dog walks his owner
Gentle rain subsides
Still behind the clouds
The sunshine hides
No one is leaving
Due to this spring shower
Drops of water
Collect on the flowers
As day turns to night
The rain comes to a stop
A child tells his father
“Daddy, you rock”
Headed home from the park
After a long day
Loving the memories
That our family made
The little child gazed upon the clear blue sea
Dreaming, praying, wishing for a change
For he knew that things were meant to be
For some reason, his life was prearranged
Held captive to that other, the being inside
He knew not of smiles, but sensed them about
He wished to escape and no longer there hide
To let the child that stays to one day come out
While daydreaming through the park
One day, I came upon a scene
Children harassing an elderly man
Times changed, they’re so mean.
Don’t they know or even care
That one day, they’ll be that man
Then they’ll think about what they did
And regret not offering him a hand.
Further down the path I went
Noticed some families by a stream
Blankets and food sprayed about
Pictures of perfection, what a scene!
A child running with a kite
The father, there, just standing by
Ready to jump if the child cried
Allowing growth, the child to fly.
Two different scenes I saw this day
And was able to come to a conclusion;
The family unit is strong and sound
And provides without confusion.
Questions, at times, we may all have,
But family is there for us in every way
Offering, teaching and guiding us well
Making us look forward to each new day.
A future they give us, with morals to use
So, we all can make better choices.
Stand up today and thank your family
Let them hear your loving voices.
Give back today, what tomorrow may not allow.
Always be grateful for that opportunity, the time.
One day they may be gone, but you will have learned
That through your family, your life will be fine.