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Quatrain Childhood Poems | Quatrain Poems About Childhood

These Quatrain Childhood poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Quatrain Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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First Love

Returning home again after many years away
I find our secret path along the Fundy Bay
That happy place where long ago we played
Where all our dreams and promises were made

Once again I lie down where daises grow
In fields above the banks where salt winds blow
Golden memories rush through my hungry soul
Returning pieces of my heart lost long ago

I close my eyes recalling all the things we did
Just the way they were when we were kids
And I know without a doubt that you are here
As your love for me falls from my eyes in tears

We lie like angels looking up at clouds of cream
As we watch them take the shape of all our dreams
We laugh so hard at all the things we do and say
To us life is just a stage a place to laugh and play

We find the trail that takes us down to meet the ocean
Where we swim in waves of jubilant emotions
Then we walk along the shore together hand-in-hand
And we write our love forever in the sand


Author:  Elaine George
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The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.

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A Letter To Dear George

Dear Lord Byron
Please don't be upset
I wish to call you George
With affection and respect

The "Destruction of Sennacherib"
I was introduced to your poem
I learned it word for word
As I sat home all alone

You see George the meaning
Is much more than you know
In school I had no success
I was considered quite slow

Empowered by your words
Assyrians coming down
I spoke with true emotion
For once I wasn't a clown

When I spoke of your steed 
With his nostrils all wide
Within the deep of me
I experienced pride

Like the leaves in your forest
When summer is green
You provided inspiration 
I now travel where you've been

With a pen held in my hand
My destruction I escape
Within my troubled mind
New ideas take their shape

I'm gifted with freedom
Words of power do supply
Whether reading or writing
They provide me with my high

So George, I humbly thank you
You're truly the reason why
I travel within the words
They're the gift that help me fly

With anticipation
I know one day we'll meet
Beyond the gates of heaven
Please reserve for me a seat

The Father of all poets
Will speak in splendid tones
We'll marvel at his spirit
We will feel it in our bones

For poets are connected
In very intricate ways
Time is not of consequence 
Our words are a form of praise

As a child when I committed Lord Byrons poem to memory,
I had no idea it was a story from the Bible. Being he was a 
believer I wanted to honor both him and our God. Thanks
Monterey, I think this is a great topic for a poem. I also 
chose to write in the same form as he had for "The Destruction 
of Sennacherib". This was the first and only form I wrote in
prior to coming to the soup. I thank all the poets here who have
helped me grow, yourself included Monterey.

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A Fairy Tale

A Fairy Tale
     By the Poets Listed After the Poem

Once upon a time, long-long ago there was a wishing star.
She, unlike a billion other bright shining stars, was magic.
Bored with her galaxy, she began to wander far away.
Streaking through the atmospheres was very hot, but not tragic.

Pausing to wonder with much time to ponder, she cast her spell.
“Tiny goblins on Halloween, by light one wish I will grant.”
Who should be the recipient of this very special wish?
Earth children roaming streets that night in one hand my gift, I'll plant.

Oh who should receive my amazingly special gift of light?
So many young ones, in who's humble heart this wish I could grant.
Out of all the precious children that have come within my sight.
The child who has the purest wish is the one I will enchant.

I'll sprinkle on my chosen one, crystal glitters, gold balloons.
A ride follows to fairyland, ending on the golden moons.
With a magical flight through a rainbow high where dreams come true,
And a house of candies in the land of Marshmallow-Lagoons...

Oh, that magical light shining through sweet cotton candy clouds,
Her wish she may...her wish she might...there's one ghoul she'll bless that night.
Of princesses, fairies and goblins, a good heart will be found.
Quickly child, make your pure wish, before the magic star takes flight.

CONTRIBUTING POETS: Charmaine Chircop, Carolyn Devonshire, James Marshall Goff, John 
Loving III, Robin Gass, Raul Moreno, Ruben D. Ortellao, Patricia Prescott, 
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

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‘The Airplane Crossing Clear-Blue Sky'

My white-washed bars surrounded me -
they held me as I slept;
they soothed me when the days were long,
and mother’s blue-eyes wept.

A baby girl, six months or less,
awakened from my sleep -
stood up legs as sure as hope;
as strong as flat is steep.

My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail
so I could peek outside –
the bluest sky I’d ever seen,
As tall as it was wide;

came into view - between the blue,
an airplane gliding by,
its smoky streamer like a flag,
across my memory’s sky...

The memory is a simple one -
a window, sky, and plane -
but in my heart, it's heaven's door
and there it shall remain.

I’ve hung it on my memory’s wall
Between that life and this –
It covers every hole I’ve dug
In sorrow’s vast abyss.

This picture brings the special peace
I knew when I was small –
Where mother’s just beyond the door,
and waiting for my call…

*Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory 
from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it 

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My Sister Is An Alien!

My sister is strange
There's no doubt about it
She's an Alien,  that's why
Just get up and shout it!

Her mind control crying
Gets her anything she wants
I say "That's not fair!"
But she just looks at me and taunts

My sister is strange
There's no doubt about it
She's an Alien,  that's why
Just get up and shout it!

It's just a disguise
I'm on to her
Is she scaly
Or covered in fur

My sister is strange
There's no doubt about it
She's an Alien,  that's why
Just get up and shout it!

She's spying on us
They 're ready to invade
So don't just be frightened
Be very afraid!

My sister is strange
There's no doubt about it
She's an Alien,  that's why
Just get up and shout it!

She knows I'm on to her
She's calling for friends
So run for your life
And hide till it ends

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Sea of Dreams

She drifted on black starlit glass
beneath the full moon bright
captivated by the beauty of
the tranquil, lovely light
floating on the gentle waves
the stars kissed her goodnight
and rocked into her deepest dreams
she floated out of sight

By Morgan Mise
Written January 6, 2013

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The Stars Spoke Right To Me

She looks up at big brother
She looks up at the sky
"You can't even reach the stars
So how in the world will I?"

He kneels down by his sister
And drops his voice down low
"Do you want to hear a secret?
But only you and I can know"

Her eyes and teeth show big and white
And she holds out her little pinky
"Tell me! Tell me! I wanna hear!
And I promise you can trust me!"

He chuckles and puts on a grin
And sets her on his knee
"Okay so first you have to know
That the stars spoke right to me

Before you were even born
Shooting stars fell down towards me
They told me something really special-
That anyone can touch them if they reach

They said it may be hard
But can happen if you try
They said you don't need to be tall
In order to touch the sky

They taught me how and said I'd show you
One day-- I guess that's today
So close your eyes and dream real big
Soon you'll be in outer space."

April 2010

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When I look into your eyes
I see right through
To the back of your mind
What’s bothering you

Everyday you carry guilt
Never bother to pick up the phone
Just to straighten it out
But it seems you want to be alone

You say you want to make up
The lost birthdays and years
For destroying our family
For the dreaded tears

Over a year no letter in the mail
Over year there’s no call
Over a year no sign of life
Over the years you never cared at all

You only want to get it out
Just so you don’t feel bad
Only for your benefit
So your life is no longer sad

Y say you want to be close again
By buying me anything I desire
But love you can’t buy
So all you are is a liar

I know you have regrets
But you’ll eventually pay
You might be happy again
When you grow up one day

You let the pain stand in your way
You tried to block us out
But you only put distance between us
Now your own kids you know nothing about

You never know what to say 
Being selfish and covering up the pain
Never saw what it did to us
Tired of losing now you want to gain

Over the years I forgot how you hurt me
I forgot to call you dad
I forgot you all in all
I forgot everything  bad

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In the darkening room I stood:
tears welling in my eyes:
by the windowed-wall, looking out,
my small chest full of sighs.

Headlights bright white and tail lights red,
paired, meandered down the street,
yet the white headlights that I sought
seemed only to retreat.

Cold, calm, singular, tear drops fell,
soon reaching down turned lips;
as in the house across the street,
the living room was lit.

A Father held his baby high. 
He hugged that toddler tight.
I wiped the corner of my eye,
and gazed into the night.

Above the darkened woodland near,
beneath a cobalt sky;
the highway brought their Fathers home.
alone again stood I.

Horns blared out in drives near by
sweet laughter filled the air,
and, in the drive across the street,
their Fathers did appear.

The children ran out slamming doors,
on small unshodden feet,
with tiny squeals, and upturned cheeks,
their Father they did greet.

Where was the father who I sought
our lives incomplete
a traveling man, my Father
did nothing but retreat.

*A memory from when I was 8.

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People say, “I hate winter,
I’m ready for spring.”
I’ve never heard a child say that,
they find joy in everything.

Some say, “Drat this blasted snow!
we need to have some sun.”
I’ve never heard a child say that,
they’re too busy having fun;

catching the flakes on their tongues,
creating snow angels on the ground,
sledding down the nearest hill,
building snowmen, fat and round.

Some see only the hindrance,
as the snow gets plowed back.
They say, “Isn’t this a mess?”
I’ve never heard a child say that.


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Silhouettes on the Stage 1953

Lying still on the class room floor,
brown paper for a bottom sheet.
All the children were gathered round
and my outline was complete.

A cookie cutter girl was I
in bright black paten leather shoes;
with a gathered skirt, puffy blouse
of blue polka dotty hues.

Drawn silhouette, a paper doll,
not ashen as deaths cold harrow,
and I regret, my parents get
left Hiroshima's shadows.

Eight years gone the Rising Sun
was challenged in an earthy sky;
for bombs Little Boy and Fat Man fell
and two-hundred thousand people died

The Man of Steel, old Stalin
passed away in Russia this year;
the hot cold war was in full bloom
and our children hid in fear.

Beneath our desk tops we scrambled
as the shrill sirens shrieked away
the Committee of Five ruled Russia
and Khrushchev was on his way.

Dwight Ike was in the White House
as a veteran, he'd fought hard
the GI bill was now in affect
and bomb shelters filled our yards.

And little girls with ringlet curls
still made dollies on paper sheets;
while the doll shadows left by WWII
bombs blackened in Japan's streets.

*On August 6, 1945, the United States used a massive, atomic weapon against Hiroshima, Japan. This atomic bomb, the equivalent of 20,000 tons of TNT, flattened the city, killing tens of thousands of civilians. While Japan was still trying to comprehend this devastation three days later, the United States struck again, this time, on Nagasaki. Nagasaki was bombed on August 9, 1945 only three days after the bombing of Hiroshima. And we worry that other countries may develope atomic bombs???

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Bee's Knees

If bees have knees
They must be quite tiny
What about elbows
Or a cute tiny heinie?

And what about thighs
That end at the knees?
Do they ever wear shorts?
Are they hassled by fleas?

Now how about hair
Is it long and flowing?
Do they wear tiny parkas
When winter wind's blowing?

When one tells a joke
Do the other ones giggle?
Can they write with a pen
Does it look like a squiggle?

Do you know what scares 'em?
Do they have any fears?
When a bee friend dies
Do they cry honey tears?

© Jack Ellison 2012

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One Fifty-Two Sixteen Two

Hey little kiddies, have you heard this story
Bout the Teddy Bear who could count up to fifty
Only problem was, the numbers weren't in order
But his Bear friends all thought he was nifty

He'd start out, “one... fifty-two... sixteen... two”
Mama Bear said he was doing just fine
Didn't want to hurt her little guy's feelings
She knew he'd figure it out in good time

“He'll learn them before he grows up,” she thought
When it's important to get numbers straight
Like when he's buying honey for his sweetie
And the store sign says five ninety-eight

At first he would count out nine eighty-five
Now that was too much for the honey
Then he remembered what Mama Bear taught him
And gave the man the right amount of money

You can find him going around counting all day
He goes, “one... fifty-two... sixteen... two”
And laughs when Mama Bear gets all flustered
Then says, “one... two... three... fooled you!”

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He was Just a Little Boy

I was born unto this world
A little boy called James
I was just like all the rest
Who in the playground played normal games

I knew my life was in trouble
By the time I reached the age of five
My mother had so many friends
I wondered why I was alive

The kids all used to laugh at me
In my short trousers and bloodied knees
If only they had known
What was going on, in the inside of me

Would they ever know
Why a mother would put you down
And pretend that your not there
As another arrives from out of town

Have they ever wondered
To go to school with clothes unwashed
Sleep on a concrete floor
While your Mother's comfortably sloshed

Do they ever stop and wonder
What happens around them day by day
They can't, because they are young like me
When all they want to do is play

My teens are around the corner
To secondary school I go
I survive and I get wiser
As I intend my life to flow

As we travel down life's highways
When we are born they are seldom written
You know the roads you want to take
For inside you, your internally smitten 

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Danny's Song Upon the Death of His Grandfather

When crashed to earth that mightful Oak
O'er that long. a'frighted night,
His tears did so high homage speak
As to slumber passed his Light...

Shoulders small, no more host to hands
Whose tender firmness helmed
Their little lad, and life, and joy
In eternal love enrealmed.

Trudged he stoic, that deserts waste
With heart beset and stormed,
His soul a stone-turned edifice
Then from parched dreams was formed

A kind but spectral silohette
Up from the nighted sands,
As boyish eyes enlivened gazed
Once more upon old hands...

They held a heart which yet did beat,
"For you, my bonnie Dan!
I'll love you from Forever, boy,
And in Love, live as a man..."

Ah, but dream, for now he wakes-
But so curious a thing!
For in his grasp there rests some sand
Which waking did not bring!

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Eyes that gleam
My Birthday Boy
Blows out three
So full of joy

My cake aflame
My little boy
Helps grandma blow
Both full of joy

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Mice For A Very Good Price

I opened the door,
Saw two nice mice,
At Pete's Pet Store;
For a very good price.

I bought them that day,
With money I had saved,
Raking and hauling hay;
For my neighbor, Mr. Dave.

I purchased a bowl,
Just for their food,
And a bottle with a hole;
For drinking water through.

I named one Ice,
He had clear blue eyes,
The other, I named Spice;
He was the smallest in size.

Ice would take small bites,
Of cheese and treats of rice,
Spice made noise at night;
Munching bread - I had sliced.

I'll never forget the day,
Mom said, "Look Price!"
And lying in their hay;
Were two bald baby mice.

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How to Build a Spaceship..

How to build a spaceship

A large cardboard box,
Massive amount of tape.
10 toilet paper rolls…
It’s beginning to take shape.

A creative little mind,
Crayons of every hue.
Help with little scissors,
Grandma, pass the glue.

Imagination going wild..
That’s what yields the fuel.
Our spaceship ready to depart,
Fun the only steadfast rule.

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The moon, pausing near her zenith,
On that balmy night in May,
Painted a warm, nocturnal landscape, 
In varying shades gray.

A mockingbird insomniac,
With golden harp did play,
And serenade his lady love
With songs as bright as day.

A shy, retiring whip-poor-will
In some hidden, forest swale,
Intoned his lonely-heart refrain, 
In a melancholy wail. 

The gentle breeze, that washed my face,
Tasted honeysuckle sweet,
While silver dewdrops glistened,
On the grass beneath my feet.

Though my magic, childhood years have gone
On frightened wings of flight,
I treasure, in my reverie,
That enchanted full moon night.

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To some a treasure

You think how much you hate your house
you despise the ancient floors
You abhor the broken cupboards
Will you always be this poor?
You gaze up at your bedroom roof
You see that it is leaking
You dream of owning fancy things
That selfish ones are seeking
You glance around the dingy room
and think it dark and dreary
How sad, how lonesome, that it seems
As if growing old and weary
Your bed, it lies a little crooked
and your carpets growing old
Summertime is way too hot
And winter gets too cold
Its raining now, its really pouring
Its leaking through your window
The sill is filling up with water
And it soon will overflow
You lie in your crooked bed
As you write this pain all down
The walls are just so melancholy
A sad and dingy brown
Your selfish thoughts lead to another
As he wanders lonely streets
Rain is pouring down on him
It's coming down in sheets
He's coughing and he's crying
And he is dreaming of a place
Where he can rest his weary soul
From troubles he must face
It's not riches that he's praying for
I do not have a doubt
This man is wishing desperately
To have what you complain about

Growing up in California on the Tuolume river was some sad business. There are homeless 
people all over the place. It breaks your heart. I always wonder what their story is and what 
caused them to be there. The little things in life matter and sometimes we forget that. Some 
mens' trash is another mans' treasure.

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Old Fashioned Christmas

The snow fell gently on a quiet street
Neighbors walked in without knocking
There was a feeling of joy in the air
As each child hung up their stocking

There was a coal fire in the heatrola
Which took a little while to start
O Come All Ye Faithful on the radio
And a warmth radiating from each heart

The kids all went to bed early
Couldn't sleep until early morn
Waiting for presents from Santa
And to celebrate the day Christ was born.

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Eternal Shadow

In my dreams, I often see a child at the beach
He's alone, building a sand castle with cheers
As the sea waves rushes and hums in a high pitch
Towards safety place, in haste he'll trot in tears

Again there he is, but without his usual beam
He is crying in silence, 'cause of pain in his heart
For the monstrous sea wave has outwitted him
Without mercy, rupturing his innocence apart

The past, led his soul to mourn for many years
Life became insane, for it is filled with sorrow
Sadness ate him alive, he succumbed to fears
Leaving me nothing, but his eternal shadow

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I Love Mommy Because

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.”

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Fire-flies sparkle in the late June night
The show they put on is quite a sight
Both old and young do delight
As darkness fills with their display so bright

They bring to life many childhood dreams
The world around you becomes magical it seems
The evening air becomes trickling streams
Of flashing lights with no set routines

It's a favorite game children play
I guess it's always been that way
Get a jar, dash about and sashay 
But, not long in one place will a fire-fly stay

When they do capture a treasured one inside
It's shown to everyone with such pride
But after a few moments often decide
The magic to the jar they should not confide

So, off comes the lid so it will go
To join the others in the wonderful show
And as they grow older, I hope they know
To pass on this game, learned long ago

©Donna Jones

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The colors in your sweater
do not grow here
but bloom without regard
in the mirror of your cheeks

We ran with arching strides
through seas of igneous poetry
written for our electric white lashes
Our layers of sturdy bone

And yes, there were times
we nearly escaped the snap of the metallic sky
the same confessor
behind matronly curtained hills

the only words to tie me here
are the mouthful that rattle my cup
yet I can always paint myself
miles deep beneath this anchor

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It's Elementary

The work I did was playing with the angels
We read and painted, dressed up for Halloween as rangers
The Universe so close from dry, paper mache
With older kids we even wrote an Etheree 

The work I did was traveling to Europe
With twenty of my students and an antelope
We colored windows facing the lights of Paris
and even opened a brasserie  "Gateau de Bliss"

So, Carolyn, you made me smile opening this album
When asking "Where the Wild Things Are? " Ka-boom!
Again it's "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs"
...but empty are long gone  Elementary School halls...

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Childhood Days

I remember a time when I was young
When summers were hot and so, so long
School holidays seemed to go on, and on
Back in my childhood days,

Holidays spent beside the sea
With mother, father and siblings three,
Playing safe, and wild, and free
In my nonchalant, childhood days,

I remember packed lunches on long bike rides,
Jam jar fishing by the riverside
Finding exciting places to hide
In my innocent, childhood days,

Playing with friends down in the park
Not coming home until long after dark
Sleeping outside was such a lark
In my carefree, childhood days,

The summers, now, don’t seem to last
School holidays go by so fast
Long hot days are in the past
Along with childhood days,

Annual vacations, are taken in Spain
With husband and daughters, traveling by plane
To escape the cold, the wind and the rain
Unlike my childhood days

As for our children playing out of sight
It just doesn’t happen, especially at night
In years to come, will these days seem as bright
To my girls, as do my childhood days?

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How Dreams are Born at Fifteen

Fifteen days of living I blew bubbles
Bubbles pearlescent in the sun
In hope and love I blew you bubbles
Ephemeral, floating, glorious sun loved bubbles.

In my act of creation, exhale air
Life held close in the bubbles 
Uh-whoo, uh-whoo, here’s life to live
I blew you bubbles for you to catch.

Leap and snatch we played bubbles
Bubbles so airy we can hold and spray
A bubbly world of shimmery beings
Floating in the wind of our wake.

And at the end of the pliant and fun filled day
We dreamed of bubbles, leaping for bubbles
Watery, airy bubbles floating, flaring and caught
and held within our hand a bubble, a bubble  smashed.

And oh how silly we seemed to break our play
Open up our hand, find within a pearl
A soft shimmery white pearl of life
And let it fly away, in the breeze, like our dream, free.

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A Day With Grandma

~~ I stood on the old wooden chair, my sweet old grandma, watching; I can still smell the red apples, and the pie dough we were rolling. We carefully put the pie in the oven, and sat at the kitchen table talking; We drank tea and told stories, in the living room grandpa was snoring. Later, grandma in her rocking chair, would soothe my head, gently stroking; I still remember she hummed a tune, and soon we would both be sleeping. ____________________________________ September 1, 2013 Quatrain Written by Broken Wings (Constance La France) For the contest, You're a Little Kid Again, Juli-Michelle Age in poem - 5 years old

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The Violin Player's Last Words

I wish I played the violin ones more
but the sound and strings ache me
This sad and stormy autumn
the maple trees tell me I'm dying

Inheritance will be the Immensity
with leaves and fruit of violin
but no one will ever know the meaning
of the springs with weeping deer...

written at 12 when my grandpa died.

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Lifting Me Up

My heart is on Your shoulders,
And You are lifting me up.
With every spoken tender gesture,
I fall a little farther in love.

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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.

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The Corn Crib

I've passed this way many a day 
and wondered as I strayed;
Who had opened, what had filled
the gap within the crib's dark bay.

The opening small in the wall
at once so spare yet alluring
with tilted sides and gap toothed maw 
which now held field mice burrowing.

The boards of red once formed a bed
for stored feed of golden maze,
these cedar shingles had sheltered 
the abundance of by gone days.

The farm's gone now, no fields, no cow    
long past its youth, its heyday             
housing only bitter sweet and 
memories of corn cobs and play. 

Yet, here it stands, as I go by,
and so quietly it brings to me; 
the lingering joy of laughter
the faint echoes of jubilee.

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Our Clothes-Line

I can see her now, through a child's eyes.
Standing , the wind gently teasing her hair..
Her apron pocket full of big brown  pins,
Hanging upon the line.. our daily wear.

She always said she enjoyed that chore.
The soap and sunshine made it sweet,
The soft smell and feel of  each of us...
The damp of grass between her feet.

She'd shake a piece and make it snap,
Before she quickly  placed it on the line.
Sometimes she'd let me pair the socks..
While we'd laugh and chat to pass the time.

A little memory, part of a simple childhood,
And mom, who's hands were always red.
Remembering the love in our daily life..
And mother's clothes-line above my  head.

For the LINE contest

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                                          THE MEDICINE MAN

When I was a girl,
We lived way out back,
In the swamplands where life,
Was hard but no lack,

Of love and good humor,
And inventive fun,
We were tired but happy,
When day was done.

One evening my uncles,
Were chasing me,
In a game of tag,
Near a big Oak tree.

I couldn't see,
The tree in the dark,
So I hit it full bore,
And there made my mark.

I was down for the count,
Out like a light,
They took me to Grandpa,
Who, seeing my plight,

Set to work right away,
To bring me around.
He reset my nose,
Made sure I was sound.

My face was a horror,
A regular mask,
But with his tender care,
I was soon the same lass.

He made poultice, used herbs,
To take down the swelling,
Relieving my pain,
And discomfort quelling.

He was quiet and gentle,
And didn't say much,
But he knew a lot,
And he had the touch.

He doctored our family,
He doctored our friends,
And many an animal,
He came to tend.

He was just an old Indian,
But I never forgot,
The things that he did,
Proved he knew a lot.

He lived his life quiet,
The best that he could,
And he did his best,
To live like he should.

He never stole,
Wasn't given to drink,
Said too much booze,
Made it too hard to think.

Didn't hold much store,
In money or fame,
But he knew the importance,
Of a good family name.

What others think,
He said with a grin,
Depends much on you,
So try not to sin.

He taught by example,
And he taught us a lot,
And the things that he taught us,
I never forgot.
                                              Judy Ball

For Tell Me A Story Contest by Debbie Guzzi

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Waves of cinnamon thrill my childhood senses down Eastwood’s stall for pancake’s fluffy batter browned choco bits riding on syrup’s edges and frothy heap of whipped cream topped on platter Grandma’s chirped voice begins to dance in my head her sunlit eyes egging me for rounds of treat. Visions of youth bring me to days, warmly fed, I end the meal pining for her cherished feast. © Sara Kendrick’s A Pleasant Childhood Memory

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The Silence of the Deaf

The soft sound of a brook, the bark of a dog
Or the tone of his mothers loving voice
These he will never know or remember
In carrying  this burden, he had no choice

His life is accompanied by silence
Each and every minute of the day
But I think he hears his own song
And has peace in his own special way

To find ourselves in perfect silence
Is something that has to be sought
To tune out  life's noisy distractions
Perhaps a gift his deafness has brought

For the "silence" contest.....

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Crimson Slippers

Opening the doors to the old studio I find A playful capriole sprinted across my mind Into a sashay and a glissade I drifted back I could hear the teachers stick go tap.tap.tap Once a prestigious ballet school of great poise Filled with music as our slippers sounded with noise The mirrors are cracked and the floors dusty Rain soaked wood left the room smelling musty The charm stayed behind as if waiting for me Spotlighting a ballerina to The goddess of the sea The young girl danced flawlessly then took a bow Then sashayed off the stage without a moistened brow An old battered piano appeared across from me Bearing red ballet shoes like a crimson canopy Charm embraced her while honoring her memory As I looked into the mirror I saw that girl was me Carole Cookie Arnold 2010

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Looking Out My Bedroom Window

Looking Out My Bedroom Window When I was young I dreamt of places to go. I looked out my window. I could swing or slide, Or climb the Mimoso How will I go? I looked out my window. I could walk or ride my bike, Or take a limo. Where will I go? I looked out my window. I could stay inside, Or follow where the rivers flow. Now I must go. I looked out my window. I will do as I like, My dreams will follow.

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Toaster Strudel Trochee

<                                       Toaster Strudel - Trochee

                                        I just crave toaster strudel
                                        Piping hot pastry
                                        Cool icing so can doodle
                                        Kellogg's bakery

                                        So get to popping me one 
                                        Time to used noodle
                                        Pop tarts boring just no fun
                                        Choose toaster strudel

Meter: 7/5/7/5 
Rhyme Scheme: a/b/c/b or a/b/a/b

The meter is trochee, which means alternating stressed and unstressed beats in each line, with each line beginning and ending in a stressed syllable. This is a simple lyrical type little poem, so rhymes will be basic, nothing fancy. The poem itself should give a description of something of interest to the poet and often the meter lends itself to humor, much as a limerick does. There is not a set number of these quatrain type stanzas, but a typical 7/5 Trochee would consist of two quatrains, with the second stanza serving to tie up the idea presented in the first stanza.

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A menacing moon, a cold draft in my room, 
small wonder why I feel impending doom; 
scufflings at midnight from inside my door, 
shadows of somethings are crossing the floor. 

I'm rigid with fear as to what they might be, 
these evil demons are coming for me; 
I tighten my grip on a poker I found, 
trembling in terror I don't make a sound. 

They're edging closer as I back away, 
they're looking for dinner and I'm the entree! 
I bundle the covers up over my head 
and just like a possum, stay small, and play dead. 

I peek, and I'm horrified... talons, green eyes! 
and slavering jaws to effect my demise, 
but I'll go down fighting, I'll give of my best 
when Mom tousles my hair, "Hey! it's time to get dressed!" 

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(Born with a Cleft Palate)

She's loving, trusting and sweet
exudes an innocent charm
She wears sparkles on her feet
jangle bangles on her arm

She chatters ceaselessly
her mind in a dizzy whirl
She's a precious anomaly
a rare and radiant pearl

Cede to the surgeon's knife
thrice by the age of three
allowed her a chance at life
almost, but not quite free

Dreams of future promise
to one day win the prize
vows that she'll be famous
and robed in crooner's guise

Although she's only nine
life has dealt her course
Flung upon by savage fate
muscled threads of divorce

Still undaunted she designs
much as a perfect rose
a future world so benign
freely she comes and goes

Given the power to confer
sunny days without storm
will gifts and grace be hers
lavished on face and form

Or might her spirit then
shrivel as if burned to ash
or complacency begin and
apathy become love's cache

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Winter's Blanket

I’m a daughter of the prairies
Where the weather is extreme
Well I know snow is not always
The sheer joy that it may seem.

Still the beauty of the soft flakes
When they first begin to fall
Can romance me and entrance me
As my senses they enthrall.

As they cover up the clutter
Of the fallen leaves debris
I see nothing but their beauty 
In the blanket spread for me.

Long lost memories are flooding.
I forget I’m not a kid.
I want to lie and make snow angels
As so long ago I did.

But that child is gone forever,
And I’ve had a busy day.
I go in to start my dinner
As the snowflakes stick and stay.

By: Joyce Johnson

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Kiss the Rain

Summer's heat sometimes holds a mid-day shower,
and as children we would run and play with giggling glee.
With open mouths, and open hearts, we splash in hollows
tasting all the rainy day fares and their beauty

In muddy roads, in soggy grass, how we'd splash and play;
we'd ring-around-the-rosie hand in hand, then all fall down.
Rain-kissed were we, infants at play in nature's beauty
unashamed, we lay upon each other on the ground.


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Tides of June Memories

The tides of June carry me over yesterday's sparkling waters to the distant shores preserved in my mind. Playful summer memories are just a light twinkling in my eye, pressed into worn photo albums, I find. Hotter days conjure thoughts of friends, no school to muddy the rippling lake and hours of summer fun. 'Last one in 's a rotten ..., splashing 'round, we kept cool, cannonballs and belly flops, a relief from the ruthless sun. An old boat dock became our fort, buckets of tadpoles were our mascots. Our neighborhood breathed new life and laughter... bikes flung upon the grass, lake waters beckoned of adventure 'til the ice cream man's music brought sweet dreams to chase after. Michael Jackson, The GoGos and Duran Duran played the soundtrack for our restless days. From our fort, the radio blared across the yard. Warm breezes held music and secrets of boy versus girl attacks. And though we often complained, the boys were never barred. Many years ago, summer time brought treasured carefree days of hide and seek, dodge ball, board games and cold lemonade. Slip and slides, cool lake swims and running through sprinkler sprays, all happy memories of our never ending June days on parade. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders for Memories of June Contest (Joann Grisetti)

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Gone But Not Forgotten

I remember it now
Not all, but enough
To understand how
I am afraid to accept love

Because some love hurts
Especially the kind you gave
The kind nobody deserves
The kind that plants the seed of hate

It matters little if you feel remorse
Your guilt could never ease my pain
The damage you did cannot be reversed
I still wear the residue of shame

And you will never have my forgiveness
My hatred will be your only companion
As you lie upon your deathbed
Feeling frightened and abandoned

You still won't even have my pity
Pathetic as you are
All you will ever be is what you did to me
As I will always bear these ugly scars

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The Tin Bath Childhood Memory

..~~Childhood Memory~~.. None of us could swim, from the river we were banned Not allowed near the water without an adult holding a hand When the adults were busy we went to play Of course to the river our thoughts oft did stray. A tin bath we found much to our delight It would make a good boat so try it we might. We were not allowed swimsuits as none of us could swim So it was down to our birthday suits then we jumped in. We took it in turns to sail in the bath We didn’t think then of our parent’s fears or wrath My brother decided a new game to play Who could capsize the bath best - and still get away? What fun playing in the hours of illicit gaming. Capsizing and spitting out water with no complaining. All went well until I tipped the bath near the drinking tree root They sucked up and grabbed the bath for a hoot. I turned the bath over and fell from inside The tree roots clawed at me from the surface trying to hide The fingers of the tree reached for me, holding and pinning me tight The air from my lungs all gone - I never thought I would see the light. A gasp as air rushed in, I could breath, I could see And there were my friends and siblings all clapping at me I had put on a good "act" of drowning they said I had not the heart to tell them I thought I was dead. We rubbed ourselves down with our clothes and dressed quick All crossing our hearts, we would never tell our trick I remember so well the dark grasping water back then I learnt to swim quick before I went there again.

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The Chicken Story

We had three large houses for chickens Where we lived on the small farm We got them when they were baby chicks Kept them inside out of harm We had a big bunch of chickens Seemed like a thousand or more They just reached the age of pullets But there was trouble in store Up in the panhandle of Texas It could get mighty cold It’s a must to keep the chickens warm So temperature was controlled If fact, there was an alarm system Went off if it got too cold It was night when the big storm blew in Now let my story unfold Found Chickens all stacked in the corners They were all dead, no doubt They huddled up, to try and keep warm And froze from a power out Just another tough time on the farm Lost both the pigs and chickens Good thing Dad had the business downtown Or we would have had slim pickins

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Heart filled with happiness, eyes much merry; cheeks color strawberry,
just running through fields of ripe huckleberry,
keeping away from the buzzing, restless bees...
going to a from their sweet hives hanging from massive apple trees.

More than childhood memories, such are these...
a reflection of youth that removes them from nostalgia; husky peasants
shaking off the husks from the golden corn;
a tasty, hot corn meal for those winter's dinners drooling on my tongue.

And approaching a torrent, I threw pebbles found on its almost barren banks
back into the spattering water that I drank sporadically until I was full,
to indulge in its freshness...squashing tiny daisies
that seemed too afraid to squabble with a giant and fight for their survival.  

The southern landscape with its mild climate, was rich and fragrant,
inviting hands to pluck the delicious, tempting fruits
off their branches, scattering the thrushes engaged in musical tones;
and I tongue-tied hurried along cogitating an instant.  

Would it be too childish to ask for a come-back,
to relive the cheerfulness of the oldest days, ceased by time and age;
to observe a reflection of youth take shape...
and embed, in a secret, a conversation regardless  of present knowledge? 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Time's Flight

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.

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A organic childhood

School was out,
vacation touched our gate,
long days,bedtimes late;
time,routinee we relegate

Bird nesting,climbing trees,
building dens,adults unseen,
picnics and make-believe;
imagination-filled dreams

Unsupervised,wandering free,
adventures sans boundary,
no cares,no chores;
natural boyhood to the core

23/4/11  inspired by red'n'ritten's series of childhood 

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Wabash River

Oft' my thoughts drift back through the mists of time,
To my childhood and my humble Indiana home,
Those blissful days of youth so carefree and sublime!
My memories of those blithesome days would fill a tome!

When I hear, "On the Banks of the Wabash, Far away",
Along its slopin' banks I can see the towerin' sycamores,
Dancin' in the breeze on a languid Hoosier summer's day,
And I see a boy with willow pole catchin' catfish by the scores!

The Wabash flows silently through the verdant Indiana plain,
Meanderin' through forests and many a sleepy Hoosier town.
How I pine to return to the soil of my birth once again,
To be that barefoot boy amblin' to the Wabash a-fishin' boun'!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. l in Barbara Gorelick's "A River Runs Through It" Contest - Jul 2011

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Gone Are The Days

Remember Petticoat Junction?
Perhaps Green Acres too?
I Love Lucy and Carol Burnett,
Just for a laugh or two?

Dick Van Dyke and The Munsters,
Back when the "tube" was fun;
Doris Day and Love That Bob,
Don't forget The Flying Nun!

Maxwell Smart was an agent,
We all know Uncle Jed;
Hazel was that clever maid,
It's sad how comedy's fled!

The Honeymooner's over,
F Troop's down to zero;
The Beaver's long forgotten,
While Hogan's lost his heroes!

Gilligan's left the island,
A Jeannie no longer dreams;
Car 54, where are you?
At times, I wanna scream!

Andy was a country boy,
Gomer, a seargent's pest;
Who made room for daddy?
Don't fathers know what's best?!

Dobie shaved the goatee,
Mister Ed's lost his voice;
My Three Sons are missing,
Ozzie and Harriet had no choice!

McHale can't find his navy,
The Addams flown away;
A Martian ain't so favorite,
Our Laugh In's gone astray!

Primetime's lost its essence,
Laughter is a con man's game;
A Family Affair's in mourning,
Is the "new age" ours to blame?

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In blue jeans and a sweatshirt, 
tousled hair, a cheeky grin, 
she whistles and the birds sing back, 
she puts a load of laundry in. 

A country girl with country manners, 
"Thanks so much!" blesses her lips, 
her daughter shares her airs and graces, 
dancing now, mom sways, she dips. 

Dressing up for Church on Sunday, 
mom and Peanut looking fine, 
mom's pleasant voice outsings the others 
with mellifluence divine. 

Skipping home from God's Communion, 
licking ice cream cones they smile, 
playing Hopscotch on the corner, 
laughing, leaping all the while. 

A six-year-old with imitations 
of an adult's ways and means, 
she's the Perfect Little Lady 
sharing Mommy's hopes and dreams!

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Being a dreamer

Being a dreamer is never boring,
	Its like a boat without its mooring,
You can pretend to be a fish,
	Swim a bit, laugh, act so childish,
Or you can fly to the nearest tower,
	Dig a hole and plant a flower.
When the moon is howling full,
	Pensive ideas make their pull,
Grinding, grueling, gritty grains
	Stenciled stuttering standing stains.
Eyes transfixed by things oblique,
	Ennui is only of and for the weak.
In rapid jests of poemy words,
	Vowels flutter like milky birds,
A leap of faith in corrupted phrases,
	The rhythm amiss like crooked faces.
You take an apple but taste a pear,
	You brush your teeth but get white hair,
It’s never boring like I said,
	A pickled world can’t raise its dead.
(Which methinks is kind of like saying:
	Signs and symptoms are always dismaying)
Play is a losers infinite no-end game,
	You draw some circles straight and same,
Make from the hip and cross a heart,
	Go figure out how, just promise to start.

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Sugarland Forest

Sugarland where fairies dwell Gingerbread men protect it well Giant mushrooms keep off the rain Redwood trees the fairy domain Buried deep from human eyes A city made where fairies fly Protecting the forest from evil foes This, their job only few can know For at the bridge you cannot pass All-powerful Trolls still stand fast Firefly lanterns will forever last Mystical daydreams here are cast Sunbeams float on a peppermint mist Sugar land’s quiet as a morning kiss Fairies fly deep into hidden homes Trolls give the day to the gnomes. Firefly lanterns snuff out their flames Elf’s and Imp’s come out for games Wizards rule and harbor the day Fairies rule the forest so they say Close your eyes and dream with me Lollipops, candy canes, Can you see Dusk falls,fairies scurry,Trolls in sight Firefly lanterns light up the night Always watching over you with grace Keeping all safe in this magical place Fairies sprinkle sleepy dust in your eyes Sleep little one,in your dreams fairies fly. Copyright ©2005 Carole Cookie Arnold

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Treasure In The Cellar

I walked down the steps
To those musty gray walls,
And breathed in the air
Of hand soap and moth balls.

I saw the oil tank
Near the pipes to the well;
And the concrete sink,
With its dank, clammy smell.

Some jams and preserves
Lined the shelves with great care,
With labels that read -
Straw-, Rasp-, Gage Plum and Pear.

Then as I walked ‘round,
I hit line overhead;
Where aprons were hung,
That were stitched in fine thread.

At that I glanced down,
Seeing box under sheet;
Near a braided rug,
Which was under my feet.

I grabbed hold the box,
Where its sides read “C. James;”
And lifting the sheet,
Saw in bold print, “Ann’s Games.”

With that, I dove in,
As I opened the case;
And when I saw “Rook,”
Beams of joy filled my face.

Then reaching I pulled,
“Go Ahead of the Class;
Then Old Maids, then Snap,
And Monopoly last.

But after these treats,
Came another as well;
With old comic books,
That were all made by Dell.

I sat there and read
For an hour or two;
Then put all away,
With the box tucked from view.

Then climbing the stairs
To the kitchen once more;
I marveled the child
That my mom was before.

Copyright - By Paul Ray

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Everyday Magic

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.

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Summer Fun

At age eleven, had a paper route
My papers were dropped off about daylight 
I’d be waiting there when they arrived
I’d fold them and delivery from my bike

Then with my tennis racket on my bike
I’d head for the park to play a fun sport
My brother and some friends would be waiting
That early we could always get a court

I cherish this summer time memory  
Early morning tennis four times a week
It made getting up less of a burden
A fun time, following work, was just neat

Later on I played tennis in high school
I even joined the High School tennis team
Enjoyed the sport in college and beyond
But my “park tennis” memories reign supreme

Composed Aug 30, 2012

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There's Nothing New

There's nothing new for children.
The adults have done it all.
And now they've left for planet Mars
when all you do is crawl.

They raised you with their Google
and taught you of their hive.
They put you on their Facebook
and told you you were live.

They'll send for you at end of days
when you look to the skies.
That's why they left you Google Earth
and praying no one dies.

You'll call them on your iphone
when seas begin to rise.
You'll have to wait for voicemail
to leave your little cries.

You'll want to build a rocketship
to follow them to Mars.
And hope there's one recyclable
from thier abandoned cars.

Then when you've reached your newest home.
Their androids there to greet you.
They'll welcome home their little ones
and then you'll have to start new.

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A Box

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.

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Ever Present Memories

The leaves were golden...brown and brittle
Rustling as the autumn breeze blew
Do I miss it, yes, a little
As my fondness, it there grew

The suns warm rays glanced off the water
Of the pond at the foot of the hill
Each summers day grew hotter
Yes...I miss it still

The Love that filled the Sunday air
Simple, heartfelt and true
A Grandmother's Love, something so rare
And but flew

The visits these days, too short I'm afraid
I can never recapture childhood innocence
But the memories I carry will never fade
No matter the moment, the motive, or absence

One day my spirit, it will return
And I will never leave there again
It is where I will one day adjourn
Forever and ever...Amen

© 2011 Kevin Stock

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Adoptive Mommy

“Where’s my Mommy?” Whimpered a fearful voice, As the little blind girl cried, She couldn’t understand why her mommy was gone No matter how hard she tried. It was only her third Christmas, And Mommy was the only gift she sought. Searching the worn-torn streets, she said, “Oh, Mommy!” As a tender arm she caught. A soldier girl from a foreign land Felt a tug on her uniform sleeve, And said as she reached down with heart and hand, “I’ll be your Mommy this Christmas Eve.”
—James E. Tate

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Play Ball With Me

His brown eyes gazed so pleadingly, "Mama, please play with the ball and me." "Dear Son, I would like to play with you, but I have so many things to do." He turned away without a word, and it's been long since I have heard "Mama will you play with me?" If I could go back to used to be, I'd ignore the dishes and unmade bed, to play with my precious child instead. Made beds and done dishes he doesn't recall, but rather when he and I played ball. Floors stay to be cleaned another day. Too soon his childhood has gone away. I no longer am his all in all and hear no longer, "Mama let's play ball." Written for Debbie's contest Won First place

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Long Good Byes

You left me, oh so, long ago
my baby, my only child
before I wanted to let go
you'd said your first good bye.

For you had so much work to do
you needed space to grow,
and surely could not do so
with a fretting mother in tow.

My son you walk beside me now
rejoined, grown up, a man,
trying to explain to me,
you're doing the best you can.

You didn’t mean to cause me pain
such anxiety and fear
all of those small good byes
were just meant to get you here.

The whole world we gave to you
and it took a quite awhile
to see the sights and sounds 
around to, wander and compile.

Now, you are searching for a wife
hope one day to have a child,
and as you walk beside me
we ponder your learning style.

How each of us has our own path
which parents can’t walk for them.
How children grow to be men
that’s what good byes were for then.

Contest: The Second Hand Emotion
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
 *Love of a child....emotions sadness /anxiety


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The Bedpost

There is a collection
On my bedpost.
I hope I’m the one to
Gather the most.

My friends and I all have
Bet each other
To see who can gross out
Their dear mother.

So I work every day
To make it grow
And keep it real tidy
In a neat row.

And last time I checked
Mine was the best
So I think it is time
To give it a test.

Then I call to mom
To come and see
My special collection,
Neat as can be.

When she opens the door,
I point to it.
And as I hoped, she has
A royal fit.

“What the Sam Hill?  I can’t…
Believe my eyes!”
Yup!  My booger collection
Won the grand prize!

By Susan Burd © 2011

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Hates' Jungle

Running through flowers in the glen,
Curly hair and golden skin shining,
Beauty  in the sun, fleeing maiden.
Gunshot sounds in the distance blasting.

A new dawn dying to begin.
Her mother lost behind her ... found.
Black ... bound and beaten by madmen.
But Bea ran faster than the hound.

War Between the States had begun.
Her hope soaring like an eagle,
Freedom glaring in the bright sun.
Brightened her way through hates' jungle.

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Being Three Years Old

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
Date: 07-03-2014

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Oh Dear What Can the Matter be?

“She’s pregnant. Oh my God!”
“I’m going to be a father!” He beams.
“What will we call him honey?” He says.
“What have I got myself into…her chest heaves.

Day after day as she grows, he works, this father to be.
“Honey, careful now!” He lends a hand as she sits down.
“Careful,” she sighs. “Shoulda thought of that…”
and her labor begins with a scream.

Hour after hour in pain …”My wife.”
Hour after hour he paces his life.
A squall from the far room and in rushes he.
“I’m a father!” He preens. “Honey? What will his name be?”

Up honey looks, no smile…so abashed
“Honey,” she says. “We have a fine lass…..”
Crestfallen he stammers. Eyes caste to the wall.
“It’s alright.” He says “We can have more………..”

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A Child's Day

School time is over
Nothing to cheer
No one at home
Till eve, left alone

Grounds full of houses
None to play around
Virtual world seems so real
Reality is like a Dream

Laptop sits on my Pa's lap
Mama shoos me around
Class work is a chore
Homework is a bore

I can't do what I like
I don't like what I do
I can't even sleep
How can I Dream?

Mornings’ can't even cry
Mouth thrust with paste
Milk does not taste
I am back to my drill

The slum boys out look better
They play in open pools
Like me, they look no fools
They don't even go to schools

                               Children’s Day is around.
               This Poem is  written to depict the Angst of a Child
                                in a Middle-Class family of Modern India

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A Boy Named Seth

Here's the scary story bout A daring boy named Seth Riding his two wheel bicycle He scared his Mom to death Wore the necessary helmet But didn't follow rules Doing silly tricks and stuff And acting like a fool! One time not too long ago On a sticky summer day Showing off for friends of his And much to their dismay His bike went flying off the curb And rolled into the street Into the path of speeding vehicle The car and bike did meet Fortunately the boy named Seth Jumped off before it hit The bike ended up a pile of junk The car bumper badly split Seth had scrapes and bruises On his unprotected body He sure was mighty thankful Cause he was being naughty Now you know there'll be a moral With most of these there's one When riding your bike near traffic It's alright to have some fun But pay attention to safety rules Never mind those tricky feats You'll live a long and happy life Not splattered all over the street! © Jack Ellison 2013 One for the kiddies!

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Family Picture?

What is a family picture? 
Is it all for real? 
Are the people that you see
pretending they don't feel? 

Can you see their anger? 
Can you smell their fear? 
Do you sense unhappiness
in the picture that's so clear? 

We're trying to be perfect, 
to look a certain way.
A family picture says so much
when there's nothing nice to say.

You plaster on the fake smile.
You put your arms 'just so'.
You show the world your family
without letting your family show. 

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Son to Father

When I was just a kid, 
I’d watch you dress in blue. 
Knowing that someday, 
I’d be just like you.
When you’d leave my eyes brimmed, 
And quickly started to stream. 
I idolized you in everyway, 
And wanted to live your dream.
Now that I am older, 
I realize I’m like you. 
Polishing my badge, 
And walking in your shoes. 

I think about your words, 
While filling in my blotter. 
I’m pleased to be like you; 
The pride of son to father. 

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Remembering When

I remember when
I was a frilly butterfly
With a need to be loved
While flying happily up the sky

I remember when
I met him my sweetheart
He was made of pure innocence
And gave my life a new start

I remember when
He broke me up badly
I was still a frail butterfly
But I could now only see love as my enemy

I remember when
I took the vow of turning into Narcissus
True, treading the path alone get lonely
But it is yet better than to be Sisyphus

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The blue Picasso boy

I could have sworn he was blue,
	The little boy no one knew,
He was slain by stony profit,
	Mortal flesh to fill a pocket.

Some say he spoke in faces,
	Living soul’s tiny traces,
Others claim he walked with fire,
	To light the path he saw with dire.

The forests heard him from a far,
	Leaves would murmur for their star,
Whose lonely orbit lit the sky,
	By way of praising those who try.

Birds would gaze and bless their days,
	Content to dwell in nature’s maze,
Where up was up and down was down,
	Right from wrong had home in town.

Small and light but full of passion,
	Holy creatures of earthly fashion,
Their mystic hearts bled for life,
	Hoping to heal human strife.

Picasso’s boy saw it coming,
	Months before he heard the drumming,
Of beating silence greed would come,
	By those whose lie one can not sum.

The will of love asks some to kneel,
	To offer hope for them that feel,
A tree must fall when darkness breathes,
	To fill the void with light’s soft breeze.

In the woods a shadow prayed,
	For those who live unafraid,
That better days will come again,
	Again, again, and once again
	I could have sworn he was blue,
	The little boy no one knew,
He was slain by stony profit,
	Mortal flesh to fill a pocket.

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Why Red Roses Flow

Every year she returns to the scene
This place in question where life has been mean
On muddy banks down by the waterline
Alone in her tomorrow's, solitary resigned

Having already lost her husband in his freedom fight
No mother should enter this fateful night
Her baby, her son, that a mother sees to grow
Wandered from her safety to that fast water flow

All innocent and fearless little steps slowly walk
In playful surrounds just barely in talk
Noises up ahead attract this mind to peek see
So curious they are when they get a chance to break free

Down an unclimbable bank he faces his lure
Once a slow flowing stream soon to take natures pure
Yesterdays storms allowed the heavens to cry
Whilst his mother kneels down and still asks herself why

In her hand she clasps a bunch of Roses so red
Tears fill her eyes knowing her tomorrow's lie dread
Once again she looks back, facing a mothers fear
A last glimpse of the flow, feeling her lost sons tears

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If I Could Wave a Magic Wand and Make a Fantasy Week-

If I could wave a magic wand and make a fantasy week,
I would rent some cabins in the wilderness near a tourist town.
And fill each one with my family’s love…butterfly kissing cheeks. 
With all my children and grandchildren happily gathered around. 

Camp food aromas would fill fresh air, tantalizing and good.
We would joyfully sing campfire songs amid giggles and sparks.
Talk about the “growing-up” days while warmed by firewood. 
Each child snuggled under someone’s arm as happy as larks.

When darkness came, the moon would shine upon a distant owl.
Whip-or-wills would sing their tune; each child’s heart would thrill.
We would say prayers as a family thanking God for waterfowl.
Together on our beautiful earth, enjoying the quiet still.

In cabins nestled under the stars, amid the black of night, 
Beneath scented cedars and pines, we would dream our souls to sleep.
Anticipating sounds of dawn and beautiful mountain sights,
I would lie awake and soak it in, remembering sweetness to keep. 

Awakened by the sounds of dawn and crisp mountain air,
I would take my camera for a walk, photographing with flare.
In every bit of nature, I would recognize God’s care.  
Thanking Him for sharing sights of deer, antelope, and bear.

When the week was almost gone, we would take a family ride.
And go to the nearby tourist town to shop and look around.
I would buy each some western clothes, feeling good inside.
And tell them I am proud that family love flows unbound.

On that last day, while packing up, we would hear waterfalls cascade.
All together, my children would work, singing a wilderness song.
As I, watching grandchildren, would thank them for good memories made.
Then, upon returned to each his home we could carry this dream along.

© October 4, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

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Logan is a Sweet Character

I loved him at first sight.
Blue eyes and a subtle smile,
Stole my heart in one night.
We snuggled for a long while.

The wait had finally ended.
Long, thin, and lanky –
Perfection had descended.
Even though, at times cranky.

I saw innocence in those eyes.
A pure trust I must fulfill.
Purring like a kitten, then cries.
To know him at last was a thrill.

He is a blessing, a gift so rare,
Brought me joys and sorrows.
We have years, yet to share.
Always, I hope for tomorrows.

I thank God for his curiosity.
He laughs even when he is sick.
Grabs hold of every adversity.
Adding entertainment to the mix.

He goes to daycare, I must confess.
Then, the perpetual motion begins.
Active?  Yes.  Cooperative? Yes.
That grandson of mine is full of grins.

October 29, 2014
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest  Sketch a Character - Poetry Contest
Sponsor	gautami phookan

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The work I do is not the most prestigious one,
from four to twelve thirty I drive...until my shift is done;
a forklift driver rarely takes a coffee-break, 
and being courteous and helpful to customers means a lot.

My long-life dream was to be a songwriter like Andrew Lloyd Webber, but my songs
didn't click...they never made the Top Ten on the Billboard Charts;
and although they didn't sell well to make it my profession, I still hold my thumb up...
that if a famous recording artist performed them, I'd have a huge hit!

My free time is devoted to creating lyrics that I will set to music in late hours;
and I would never be a Mozart, Verdi, or Beethoven if didn't knock on doors
and expose my works to those who would be willing to listen without reluctance...
could one be old and succeed as the young ones with fresher, brighter ideas?

For now, I remain the same blue collar guy coloring more illusive dreams;
many approach me and say," Don't give have plenty of chances!".
I do want to believe that and wear the deserved crown and be lauded as others...  
'till my lucky day comes, I must make a living and have the faith of the achievers.

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My, How Buttons Have Changed

In the fifties, my sister and I would play store;
selling ice cream and candy just like our grandpaw.
Granny let us delve into her spare button box
where we found the coins for our special cash drawer.

We sorted them all out by size and by color
marking some as quarters, nickels, pennies or dimes.
Imagination was the best of our playmates;
we even had half-dollars, the rarest of finds.

Last year we two met to go shopping just for fun;
can you guess what awaited me and my sister?
Brand-new buttons made of honest-to-God live coins.
We found all the reg’lar ones, but no half-dollar.

We giggled as we shopped, pretending like old times. 
Strangest thing we discovered along with this find -
the penny buttons? no cheaper than the quarters. 
The cost of the buttons did not match with their kind!

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I held back when I could have gone forward 
Since I was a child I felt cornered and tortured
And every attempt to change was a bluff, since
On my hands and feet I put the heavy cuffs –
Because of fear

I said ‘yes’ many times when I could have said ‘no’
What my life would have been like I will never know
I remained seated when I could have stood up
I willingly lapped up the poison oozing from my death cup –
Because of fear

I went left when I should have gone right, and 
I shut my eyes when they should have been open wide
I smiled silently when I should have cried, and although 
I have not met my death yet, many times I died –
Because of fear

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Christmas Biography


Five are one, loving each another
I was last of the Jolly children.
Cedar tree from the woods, I ‘member
my fifth Christmas in ’50.

Jovial times for the five of us
the mistletoe and snow uncommon.
We had holly Jolly Christmases
before Burl Ives in ’60.  

Ten more years added two grandkids quick
when brother wed his sweetheart and friend.
Kids once more wait for jolly St. Nick
toy gifts to buy in ’70.

When next the decade finds me checking
I’m a wife, mother and aunt again.
This season three extras come decking
the Jolly halls ’80.

We add a son. My oldest niece weds.
“Jolly” tables now serve six and ten. 
Fourth generation – her two “great” kids 
help Christmas rock in ’90.

Death takes its toll, both parents succumb.
Divorce claims two, four go to heaven.
New mates are found and babies still come
Christmas was rough in ’2000.

No more gath’rings of Jolly’s in sync
but love still counts, I number the kin.
We’re up to thirty-three now I think
my sixty-fifth Christmas 2010.

*My maiden name is Jolly which adds a lot of fun and joking especially at Christmas time.
Heart's Warmth Contest

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Had visitors over on the weekend The subject turned to life's scary moments At ten years old had a daredevil heart Dragged this story out of retirement Trembled like I was living it over again With my good buddies Ken and Bob Crawled into a narrow culvert on our bellies Amazing how my heart still throbs Your truly was first, then Ken, then Bob Travelled twenty feet, then no choice The way ahead was totally impassable Screamed BACK UP with fear in my voice! Ever experienced real claustrophobia? There was no escape, no detour Heart started beating like a damn trip hammer Soiled my new knickers, for sure Ever tried crawling backwards on your belly A panicky feeling in your tummy Bad enough, crawling backwards I mean But embarrassing, I called for my mummy! © Jack Ellison 2013

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Chocolate-Coated Memories

Chocolate-coated memories of my morning meal fill my bowl to the top. I could get not get enough of the sweetest children's breakfast cereal. I was more than crazy for my delicious "puffs". My mother will confirm my cocoa obsession. I dug in only after the milk turned chocolaty. Yes, two boxes were always in my possession. How ever did I escape childhood obesity? for A Pleasant Childhood Memory Contest (Sara Kendrick)

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Flowers That Grow

Morning glory wanders, twining through trees.
Wildflowers invite curious insects around.
Roses blossom and fragrance the breeze,
“Where?”  I ask. “Can greater beauty be found?”

Digging in the garden, I feel right at home.
Praying for plants, each seed, my next muse.
Breathing in nature’s life giving loam. 
Dreaming about flowers, anticipating views.

A child planting corn rows with grandfather near.
He’d make the hole; I would drop three seeds there.
No wonder my passion is a garden so dear.
It is there I met love, grandfather watching with care.

Now that he is gone to heaven above,
I thank God for creation and flowers that grow.
When I work in the garden, I feel grandfather’s love.
Rejoicing in our Father whose wisdom does flow.

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Christmas Tree Light--NR

Sparkling, Sparkling, Christmas light,
I love the way you shine so bright,
Your radiance makes the room look fine,
which makes it better than the vine.

Blinking , blinking , as your leaves shine,
How sweet passion and love entwine,
Pretty display of  green  on  tree,
Christ birth makes my heart feels so free.

CONTEST:"Nursery Rhyme"  sponsored by Debra Squyres

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If I Knew Then

If I knew then what I know now You've often heard that said A truer axiom has never been uttered It's so easy for youth to be led If I knew then what I know now Might have changed a thing or two They say youth is wasted on the young I certainly believe that's true If I knew then what I know now Could've saved those days being wasted With childish games and petty ambitions Before real life had been tasted If I knew then what I know now Should've listened to those smarter minds That warned that when we finally matured We'd regret being foolish and blind If I knew then what I know now I look back with a few regrets That I wasted a valuable part of my life My teen years I'd like to forget But in spite of it all, I made it through I try to show today's youth how Not to repeat the mistakes I made If I knew then what I know now © Jack Ellison 2012

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Not Afraid of the Dark

It’s improper to say 
“I’m afraid of the dark,”
For it’s not the darkness you fear,
Rather, it’s the creatures within,
They come when the darkness is here.
But political correctness matters little
When running from fears of the night.
Stay inside; heed my words:
Turn on all the lights.

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Halloween Story

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.

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Demon Boy

There's really nothing greater Than sucking on your thumb It's lots more fun than throwing up Or falling on your bum! They say I'm just a nasty child And cause a lot of pain They have no idea what trouble is Just let me try again! My mischief surely grieves them Their woe is my incentive I'll stuff the kettle full of sugar "Demon Boy" can be inventive! My middle name is "Crisis" They almost wrung my neck Shaved Rover with Dad's razor 'Twas my worstest beating yet! I've done a bunch of real bad things In my short and evil life But I get so much darn enjoyment Out of causing my parents strife There's really nothing greater Than sucking on your thumb It's lots more fun than throwing up Or falling on your bum! © Jack Ellison 2012

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Nickel Children

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.

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The Ice Cream Man

Before I started school; and after
During the Texas hot summer time
When I heard that jingle playing
I only had ice cream on my mind

Run home in hopes of a dime or two
I hear him coming; don’t dare be slow
I’ll be there at the curb when he stops
A “dream cycle” please, before you go 

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Ditsy Moment

Ditsy moment, wow!
This takes me back a few years
I think I was aged about twelve
It left my father in tears

It was on a summers morning
I was sound asleep in bed
Subconsciously I heard my father shout
And throw something at my head

"Hey James get up,
Your going to be late for school"
I sat up straight in bed
Hurrying not to break the rules

Quickly I got dressed
As I rushed for a bite to eat
It's then that I noticed my father
Crying in his seat

His tears turned to laughter
As he struggles to calmly say
"I'm sorry my son I just couldn't resist
In fact it's really Saturday"

Looking back at that time
Today it's still funny to me
But you really had to see
Me sitting up as stiff as a tree

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Thing In My Closet

There's a thing that lives in my closet I don't dare to open the door I've been wearing the same old T-shirt For a couple of weeks or more Mom says, “Don't be silly, my son!” But I don't see her checking it out Pretty sure a couple of nights ago Heard a bang and a very loud shout Something's got to be done about this Can't keep wearing this old shirt If it goes on for very much longer I'll be wearing my sister's pink skirt Wonder if my dad is brave enough I'll ask him when he comes home tonight He'll probably have a million excuses Like a hang nail or a mosquito bite Guess I'll just have to go in there myself Be brave, it's probably nothing Just as I was about to open the closet I woke up screaming and punching! © Jack Ellison 2012

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Living Waters

He holds the pitcher very high
As liquid pours into the bowl.
With the baby’s parents standing by
The pastor has a starring role.

Preparing to baptize their son,
He tells of God’s abiding love.
He picks the sweet child up when done
And asks for blessings from above.

The parents are gazing on with pride.
Their happiness with us they share.
Not once has their tiny infant cried
As our pastor gives him back with care.

Though it was not the child’s decision,
This sprinkle of the Holy Bath,
We parishioners pray that his baptism
Will start him on a righteous path.

Won #6
by: Joyce Johnson  9/20/11  for Francine's Flowing Water contest

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" She danced the way it should be danced.
   And the way she wanted."

  -Raymond Carver

Eddying in a commotion of color, 
fall's dispensation of red, green and gold;
blended with Zephyrs' mysterious rhythms,
a stately ballet that never grows old.

Spread 'cross the firmament planets are spinning, 
silently cold and majestically clear;
gliding through eons in pre-ordained tempos,
gracing the night sky all throughout the year.

'Shining Light' at the 'School of Terpsichore' 
a twelve-year old warms up and waits for her chance 
to show those judges just what this young girl can do, 
nothing means more than her passion for dance. 

She dreams of fame and of making a difference,
the world is too large and her room is too small;
she's too young yet for abstraction and symbol,
in time she will grow, find her place in it all.

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A toddler's stumble, a parent's catch,
he'll walk alone so soon.
Freewill negates most every latch.
No song without a tune.

Now adolescence binges nightly.
Some see a future bleak.
Those who can't their minds closed tightly.
Deaf minds will never speak.

Middle-aged, depressed, he paces.
How did he lose his edge?
Frozen feet, yet a mind that races
while he's stepped out on the ledge.

For reality now he sees more clearly,
and present cannot be past.
For no one wants to be just nearly.
In the human race, first is last.

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Twas the night before Thomas

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

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Choo Choo Charlie

Choo choo trains are so much fun
As they puff along the tracks
Full of happy clickety clack sounds
With a little caboose on the back

Chugging along up and down hills
Singing some happy wee ditty
His name is Choo Choo Charlie
Bringing country folks to the city

They're always in a big hurry
These folks from the busy town
Poppa needs to earn some money
To pay for Momma's new gown

In the land of big tall buildings
There's not a happy face
Seems like everyone's in a hurry
As if they're running a race

Charlie patiently waits until five 
To return them to their homes
Can't wait to get them back on board
Away from the glass and chrome

It's strictly business all day long
There's not much laughter allowed
Till Charlie meets 'em at five o'clock
Once more they're a happy crowd

Why does it have to be this way
Choo Choo Charlie wants to know
Never mind, he's heading home
Happy passengers all in tow!

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Summers we had--

The heat never bothered us Our summers were always full of fun, Lazy late mornings, but spicing up Dull afternoons, romping in the sun! A gang of bashful cousins we were Famous for impishly fooling all around The neighborhood mango orchards With dozens of mangoes, we were once found! The burly gardener shooed us home We wisely kept indoors for a day or two Promised old granny, we'd behave, Just until we come up with some mischief, new! Summers were filled with a luscious taste Mangoes: Ripe and juicy or sour and green Smearing the baby face, dripping about Its one sweet mess, I love even now to clean! Drying potato wafers on cotton sarees My wheezy granny's tangy mango pickles Her kitchen was a temple of heavenly aromas Memories of them make my taste buds tickle. My children do celebrate their air conditioned summers Splashing in pools and gaming on Playstation They love theirs, I love and miss mine That's the difference of a generation. 11th June 2012

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kidding ourselves

it's illegal now to be a kid
no matter what, once, was did
no longer allowed, they now forbid
put a sock in it, slam down the lid

there was a time, that many know
when it wasn't so
and kids romped wildly, to and fro
from yard to wood to overflow

across the day, squealing joy
the privilege of the hoi polloi
no silvered girls or golden boys 
everyone was the real McCoy

and played innocent because they were
devious played plans did not occur
because life was all a sharpened blur
of play day friends in all grandeur

now, many lament of days gone by
when innocence was a feast whereby
kids grew flying clear-blue sky
to adults who can't see eye to eye

in fact those times - they still are
no adieu uttered - no au revoir 
no quench of light from brightened star
childhood's about being a kid, so far 

so kids are kids the whole world over
L.A. to Bahrain to country farms all over
they can see a day, fresh with sweet clover
to roll in, an' play on, an' lose their composure

kids don't have to remember that life's fun
they naturally want to summersault and run
it's been that way since time had begun
and will always be, 'til all time, is all done

© Goode Guy 2013-04-15

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                                 SMOKEY AND THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER

Once when I was just a kid,
My mom thought 'twould be nice,
If I'd invite some friends to play,
And we could swing outside.

I had a swing set in the yard,
Where I would play for hours.
My daddy built it just for me,
Away from Mommy's flowers.

It stood beneath a large Oak tree,
And even had a sand box.
We played and swung and had a ball,
Got sand in clothes and socks.

Our neighbors had a big red dog,
A loyal, patient friend,
Prince often came to play with us,
He wagged his tale and grinned.

Another dog came on the scene,
And Prince was not amused,
They postured and they sniffed each other,
A dog fight soon ensued.

We screamed and cried and climbed the set,
As Prince and dog fought on,
Smokey heard our frantic cries,
And raced across the lawn.

Prince was huge with big white teeth,
And muscles big and stocky,
But Smokey feared him not and leaped,
And rode him like a jockey.

Smokey sank his claws in deep,
With teeth he grabbed his neck,
The big dog took off down the street,
With Smokey firmly set,

Upon his back, he rode him well,
They soon were out of sight,
We worried that he might get hurt,
In yet another fight;

But he came strolling home real soon,
The hero of the day.
"Don't worry kids', he seemed to say,
He won't be back today."

                                                               Judy Ball
For Fraqncine Roberts Pick A Pet Contest - July4,2011

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Oh-so Fast

Spinning, spinning
Oh-so fast
Giggles, giggles
Smiles to last

Dizzy and dazed
The world catches up to me
And I relax amazed 
At all this energy

She can't pause for a second
For she knows time's not to waste
And so again I am beckoned
To swing and spin with much haste

Colors fly by and it's all that I see
There are no objects, no focus
Except for the little hands gripping me

I feel at peace in this simple race
My only job is to beat the world
And put a smile on her angelic face

All this simplicity is all that she needs,
Dreaming and doing all that she can,
Seeing flowers rather than weeds,
Making sure that the world can be outran

Never thinking past the night
Today's her only concern
And today she wants to see a sight
Of the world at its fastest turn

"Faster! Faster!"
Oh-so fast
Laughter, laughter
Smiles to last

March 2010

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It's Only Me

While tucked and propped with book in bed,
And peaceful bliss within my walls;
My parent ears tuned while I read 
To children’s feet along the halls.

Though I foresaw what would come next, 
With gentle knocks, some pleas, then moans;
My sedentary mind was vexed 
To know I’d have to move my bones. 

No sooner had I prophesied, 
Than little knocks came timidly;
But then my heart broke deep inside,
Because they said, “It’s only me.”

Unread, I laid aside my book 
Of famous vineyards, lands and farms; 
Then opening up the door, I took
My darling children in my arms.

And as we hugged with tenderness,
While sharing love within my hold; 
I thought of future joys expressed
From strolling through God’s streets of gold.

For as a child of God, I pray, 
While at His gate, I hope to see;
He’ll come and grab me up someday,
When I confess, “It’s only me.”

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You Were Always There

I wouldn't think you need 
to be told how much I care.
You've always known how much it meant
that you were always there.

You were there when I was hungry.
You were there when I was cold.
You were there when I was young,
and I'll be there as we grow old.

In a family full of turmoil.
With a heart so full of pain.
I always could take comfort
from a visit with Aunt Jane.

You've been the hand to guide me
when I looked for someone near.
I miss you since you've moved away.
To me, you are so dear.

I hope I can repay you
for the precious gift of love
you gave to me throughout my life.
For you, I thank God above.

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Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three,
he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday;
remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be...
by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny.

He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut,
as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem to vanish in the increasing, grey fog;
and if his music with shrilling, melodic notes is a devise to find his stranded dog,
he will have the best friend to guide him safely home through beams of twilight. 

Play, handsome warrior the melody you forefathers played on those efflorescent days
underneath the same oak tree to celebrate their free manhood;
and resembling them with long hair and piercing, dreaming eyes,
you don't expect that intruders from other lands would compromise your happiness.

Foxes, grizzly bears, coyotes and buffaloes hear your music and come around to peek:
they know that you wouldn't hurt them and they wonder who's the Great Spirit;
little they suspect that they will be hunted down by the new-comers from the East;
be their friend, warrior...promise them protection when they'll encounter the Beast. 

All that you behold today, may be gone tomorrow making you weep,
grasslands and prairies will tun into towns and cities to make way for greed;
and blood will flow abundantly on meadows where only wildflowers grew...
devastation everywhere with mother's screams by red rivers not so blue.

You must have had dreams of what was coming with a spectacle so gruesome,
take heart...your tomorrow is decided by destiny, pray that you won't be harmed;
continue playing your flute by remembering everything that you deeply loved,
and if you'll die fighting heartless men, I'll remember that look so lonesome.

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Recollected childhood trips seem an intensely hot affair.
We took a bus, tight-filled with sweaty people’s feet
For hours;  but then at the end,  there was  air.	
And gone were the constriction and glaring heat  - 

In the tranquil cool shade of the springtime wood.
There were spreading red campions and more -
In places where a little sun shimmered and could
Make yellow pools  on the woodland floor.

And everywhere  the fairy  bluebells  all
Nodding in crowds blue and thronging.
In life I carry with me and oft recall 
That day, the happiness, the feeling of belonging.

I picked armfuls hoping to preserve their beauty till later,
Wrapping them in wet cloth in a water-pail
To survive the torrid heat of the bus-incinerator,
Unaware that their happy lives I would  thus  curtail.

An intensely-lived child-experience does not diminish,
But telescopes into a longer event, perhaps with fairies,
Sometimes without  any definite finish.
Tiny spaces can morph into prairies. 

Maybe  the bluebells  were just  there in some  garden to find ,
But I did see them  somewhere,  and I  really made the trip,
I really smelled them. They were not just a dream in my mind :
And for years after, I wanted to relive their friendship.

But   trying  to recapture childhood memory
Is like trying to preserve  beauty   a-flowering
By picking it for a collection in a repository.
Its beauty is gone with the garnering.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Written for  Paula Swanson's Contest   "I Carry With Me"

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What effect has envy on soul

Envy begets in the soul a want of charity for our neighbor
Produces a spirit of detraction
Backbiting and


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Little Feet

Recalling special holidays past,
my favorite thoughts would be,
three pairs of feet running down the hall
to wake up the Christmas tree.

The excitement and the chaos,
as wrapping paper was torn,
squeals of delight throughout the house
as Christmas day was born.

At times I thought it might be nice,
to be free of all the riot,
just to enjoy an hour or two
with things a bit more quiet.

It’s funny what you wish for,
sometimes regretting what you say,
changes that look better
often don’t turn out that way.

Children grow and then they’re gone,
now that my time’s more free,
I realize hearing those little feet
meant everything to me.

So this year as we celebrate
And raise a glass of cheer
my grandchildren run through the house,
I’ve got new little feet to hear.

They are the magic that is Christmas,
so bring on the noise and clatter,
for being together with those you love
is all that will ever matter.

Liz Reilly
Children in rhyme contest

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                                                 YOU TAUGHT ME

You taught me the difference,
Twixt right and wrong,
And helped me to find,
Where I truly belong.

You taught me that honor,
Love and respect,
Is much more important,
Than casual sex.

You taught me to earn,
The things that I own,
To take pride in a job,
Well done on my own.

You taught me to smile,
When I found no reason;
You taught me to laugh,
In spite of the treason,

That I had experienced,
In life's cold, hard school,
Feeling abused,
And used as a tool.

You gave me confidence,
In a world of confusion,
And though there were times,
I'd resent your intrusion,

I just want to say,
That I'm glad you were there,
Each time that I stumbled,
To show me you care.

                                                      Judy Ball

Even though they don't appreciate it when they're growing up, when they have kids 
of their own they always come back and say thanks.
Mine did.
Thanks to you Sherry for saying it.
It means a lot.

For The Right Time Contest by Michael J. Falotico

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Kiddies Are Our Future

Have you noticed When kiddies play They play with guns of war They learn from us What seems to be Quite natural to our core The future of Our planet lies In hands of every child Let's teach each soul And guide them through The perils with a smile A positive take On life it seems Helps reach that distant goal We don't need tools Of war no more Just peace in every soul So treasure kids And nurture them To change the times ahead And make this place Much better than The years of fear and dread It can be done If all of us Just listen to our hearts Let's forge a path With kiddie's help And make a brand new start! © Jack Ellison 2012

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Watch out kiddies
Here they come
If you don't like ghoulies
You'd better run

They're creeping out
From under the bed
From out of the closet
And under the spread

They're making these weird
And unearthly squeals
I'm not even sure
These ghoulies aren't real

Mom says they surely
Are all in my head
I can feel this bumping
Under my bed

Can't pull up the covers
They're under there too
I just saw one
Wearing my shoes

Shrieking and squealing
These scary sounds
I couldn't move
They're all around!

Then a strange little fellow
Wearing my shoes
Started dancing and singing
Bout stuff in the zoo

I started to giggle
At this comical sight
Forgot about how
I was rigid with fright

The song he was singing
Was a happy refrain
No longer frightened
Started giggling again

I enjoyed his antics
As he danced around
Swaying back and forth
With these cheerful sounds

A feeling of drowsiness
Crept over me soon
Could see out my window
The big yellow moon

My fears disappeared
And I drifted to sleep
As a bunch of ghoulies
Started tickling my feet

© Jack Ellison 2012

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My Friend Mickey

Absolutely loved old Mickey Mouse My all-time favourite character No matter what my age is chronologically Can't wait to crank up the projector As he carouses round the celluloid screen Fills my heart with great happiness His squeaky voice rings out loud and clear Always creating such rowdiness Remember the Wonderful World of Disney One in four was from Fantasyland Of course, I enjoyed the other three weeks But adored Mickey and his band Life was filled with joy back then Hoped we'd stay kids forever Thoughts of getting old sometime in the future Occurred to us almost never Mickey and his band kept us chuckling all day No worries, the world was in rhyme Never concerned what the future had in store Only fun till beddy-byes time © Jack Ellison 2014

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My Very First Movie

Remember your very first movie?
I surely remember mine
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
It was nineteen thirty-nine!

Went to a matinee with my parents
“Sit still!” my mother said
Saw two movies and a funny cartoon
Still dancing round in my head!

I remember being really frightened
By the sight of the wicked old Queen
Soon as Dopey came bouncing along
Happy times returned to the screen!

The music's been here for a lifetime
“Whistle While You Work”
And “Someday My Prince Will Come”
That's when my ears start to perk

Sure don't make 'em like that anymore
Now they're 3-D animated gems
Amazing but I long for simpler times
Sure wish I could live 'em again!

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Fairisle jumpers,short-trousers*
Plimsoles,balaclava,long socks
School-cap,blazared,with ties
Chip-butty,not stick-like fries

*a rite of passage when you were allowed to wear long trousers

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Resourceful Mama

A little whiff of cinnamon
is quite enough to make me cry,
to think I never more will taste
Mama's delicious sweet milk pie.

Made from her love and little else,
she could bake the delightful treat.
A great chef who's lacking nothing
would find her milk pie hard to beat.

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Future Ambition

In future,I want to be a lawyer
Some think to be one you are a liar,
I would want justice to be fairly done,
without the notion of using the gun.

Fighting for people`s right,I love dearly,
Suffering of the weak, I hate clearly,
I will go to school,work hard to be one,
with the help of good teachers it will be fun.

Oh,Lord!provide for my parent to train me,
though sometimes I disturb more than a bee,
I still love protecting Junior from big Frank,
who beats others and push them into the tank.

*Nursery rhyme by a 9yr old boy.*


CONTEST:"You`re a little Kid again" sponsored by Juli-Michelle

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                                     THE WATERMELON THIEVES

Once when I was oh so young,
My mom decided she,
Would show us where some melons grew,
Beneath some large orange trees.

A farmer man she knew of,
Grew them there she said,
So folks would leave alone the fruit,
That grew above their head.

The melons were okay to take.
Just let the oranges be,
So off we went to pick some,
My mom, my sis and me.

I was only five years old,
So I sat in the car,
With Mama's friend who drove us there,
No light from moon or stars;

Because the orange trees blocked their light,
And I was sore afraid,
Because it was so dark in there,
Hidden in the glade.

Suddenly I saw my mom,
Running like the wind,
Right behind her came my sis,
A melon 'neath each limb.

Then in a flash my mom went down,
She tripped and broke her melons.
"Run Ruth, Run!" I heard her say,
They're runnin' and they're yellin'.

Mother! Wait! I heard Sis call,
For she had gone down too,
Stepped in a rotten one and fell,
They both were in a stew.

A flashlight beam then pierced the dark,
They made the car just barely;
And we took off just like a shot,
Took out the fence gate squarely.

We made it back home just past one.
They laughed until they cried.
I was so young I just sat there,
Agape with my eyes wide.

My mother had skinned both her shins,
My sister, she smelled funny,
Because that melon she stepped in,
Was rotten and real funky.

Some thought my mom as mothers go,
Not what you'd call high scoring,
But I can tell you life back home,
For sure was never boring.

                                                     Judy Ball


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Crawdad Pie

A barefoot boy on an old dirt road
Kicking dust up as he went
His lips all puckered, whistling a tune
He was happy and content 

He carried a bucket by the bail
Had a cane pole on his back
And under his arm, all wrapped up tight
Was a burlap gunny sack

“Where are you going with all that stuff?”
I asked as he skipped on by
“I’m headed down to the Jack-Knife Creek
To catch Crawdads for a pie”

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Give Life

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

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Daughter to Mother

Knick-knack paddywack
Give the dog a bone
Grown up quick
But you didn't go wrong

Criss-cross twist toss
Over and under
Wonderful memories
Are always of blunder 

Clip-clap snap back
Shakin my head
Fed up people
End up red

Stop-skip jump trip
Lick up the wound
Noon is the time
To just sit in your room

Flair-fall stumble stall
Live to love your life
Strife and grief
Make it all the more bright

Give-got taken shot
The higher you climb
I'm still with you
So smile all the time

I'm the daughter I'll have you know!


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The Little Girls Abyss

Ever since I was young
I always had this dream
About a little girl who lived next door
Who drowned in a nearby stream

I don't know what possessed me
But I always knew one day
She would turn up at my door
And ask me out to play

I mentioned it to my parents
They said "listen" and sat me down
It happened before we moved here
Her bigger sister let her drown

The family we bought the house from
Moved on from the fear of this
Their teenage daughter suffered nightmares
And dreamt of a wet abyss

Many years have passed
I am now well into my teens
But this aura that still surrounds me
Everywhere I look she's seen

One evening I went to shower
As normal I pulled back the screen 
I turned to look in the mirror
She was there, staring back at me

There was an incredible similarity
She looked like me when i was young
Now having shown herself, is it over
Or has it really just begun

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Childhood Memories

The little two-room schoolhouse
On the North Dakota plains
Was the source of education
And of smaller joys and pains.

In the North Dakota winters
We spent recesses inside.
And sometimes in the basement
For a game of seek and hide.

So much nicer in the springtime
When we took our games outside.
We would laugh as we were swinging
On the playground Giant Stride. 

The swings were made of steel or iron
And if one swing wasn’t ridden.
It could fly around and hit us.
Giant Strides are now forbidden.

In the days when we must stay in
Because of too much rain or snow,
At the noon hour after eating,
To the basement we would go.

One time when we were down there,
I fell hard on the cement.
I wouldn’t show my bruises
But I’m sure there was a dent.

That evening when my daddy asked,
“How did it go at school?”
I told him I had fallen
As the tears began to pool.

“Where did you get hurt little daughter?”
I wondered at his merriment
And why he thought it funny
When I said, “In the basement.”

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A Mothers Love?

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?

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Alias Santa Claus

Been mistaken for Santa Claus
More than one time over the years
Could be my big fat rolly belly
Or my beard from ear to ear

It's kind of cool when a little kiddie
Comes up to me and tells me this
"Once I saw you last Christmas Day
And you gave my mommie a kiss!"

Kids always say such funny things
Some of them can make you blush
A little guy told me I was really fat
Must eat a big bunch of mush

Wouldn't think of shaving my beard
Or losing a big bunch of pounds
Cause then I'd miss these little  kiddies
And their amazing ability to astound

Before I end this long dissertation
There's one thing I really must extol
Don't ever lose the tiny person
That's living within your soul

©Jack Ellison 2012

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Finding Jesus

Story of Jesus from Luke chapter two --
Mary, his mother, was coming undone,
anxiously searching midst those trav’ling through,
hearing her Lord ask, “You can’t find my Son?”

“Was it yesterday, that I saw Him near
Joseph's side?” but quickly dropping her brow.
“How could we lose One most treasured and dear?
Should we return to Jerusalem now?”

Safe in the Temple, at end their pursuit,
capably teaching, God's Son sat unfazed.
Hearing this Boy/Man’s replies so astute 
those who attended His words stood amazed.

Story of Christians from that time to this,
quick three days' journey away from your Lord.
Noticing nothing of what’s gone amiss.
"When did I lose Him – the One I adored?" 

Busy with church, His presence you exclude
without knowing He's been out of your care!
Stopping to listen, fellowship renewed,
your heart's engulfed when Christ speaks to you there.


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Discovering LaConte

The innocence of a child, will grant sixth sense,
The way they peer through ones soul, appreciative of chance.

As close to Him as one can get unless entombed,
is to be the Indigo one, eavesdropping from the womb.

Fingertips suspended in animation, Find
The images of all surroundings like the newly blind.

Recognition of voices, knowing who you are
Sit and wait, lay dormant till, it is time for them to part.

Roads will be taken, paved or rough, their choice,
It's all part of the cycle for them to find their voice.

For Indigo's, along with Crystal children, know
That the gift of life is precious, baby steps, their own.

With each footstep taken, an imprint leaves its mark,
When life cycle repeats itself, the world they were apart.

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Henry Wordsworth Longfellow

Just 'fore words formed inside my head 
as my mother put me to bed
her sweet voice would rhyme to lull me
tales of children wild and misled.

Who ran and played and sang and danced
deep in teepees as in a trance.
Or climbing atop the walls of castles
dueled with broom stick used as lance.

The children’s hour was our time
to kiss and snuggle laugh and sigh.
And she taught me of Paul Revere
of his rushed ride with red coats nigh.

So many Longfellow tales told
of bold, real or imagined feats
that never did I want her voice 
to stop or pause or to repeat.

Tennyson could tell a tale of
charging brigands in full retreat.
But, none could met the glory of
Longfellow’s stories so replete! 

*Longfellow wrote Hiawatha, The Chidren's Hour, and Paul Revere's Ride
among dozens of other poem stories. In the 1920's children were taught
history through the use of poetry.

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                                             THE PIGS AND THE PINE TREE

Once upon a time,
So very long ago,
I took my dogs out for a run,
Not far from home and so,

I thought we would all be fine,
Beneath the cooling shadows,
Of the trees and bushes,
As we ran past field and fallow.

The forest was the place for us,
Where we might see a deer,
And mayhap chase some rabbits,
And splash through streams so clear.

We loved the forest and the fields,
Loved resting in the shade,
Of the Pine grove way out back,
Where squirrels and wild things played.

One day while we hunted there,
To see what we might find,
We happened on a bunch of pigs,
Not tame, the wild kind.

Big black tuskers that they were,
With humps and slopeing heads.
You can't chase them, they won't run,
They'll chase you instead.

Immediately the dogs gave chase,
And just as quickly scattered.
I went straight up the nearest tree,
Escape was all that mattered.

The dogs went home and gathered 'round,
The porch and Mama knew,
Something was wrong and called the boys,
And they were worried too.

The dogs went home without me,
A sign something was up.
They told them, "Go find Judy",
The trail was soon picked up.

The pigs had gathered 'round the tree,
Where I hung and cried,
I could hear Mom calling me,
Worried what betide,

Her wandering girl out in those woods,
She sent the boys to find me.
Meanwhile the pigs got tired and left,
So I came down the Pine tree.

My uncles laughed and laughed at me,
As they told the story,
Of how they found me in the woods,
Climbing down a Pine tree.
                                                    Judy Ball

Pine trees don't have limbs. But I climbed it anyway.

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Sleepy Deadlines

For Santa...

So much goodwill and dedication
Hard work through the ages
Unnoticed sweat drop jubilations
Dusted most on gathered pages
Rocking chair of velvet comfort
Snowy beard with wishful cheer
Hearty smiles of flavored butter
Candy striped in scent sincere
Elves and reindeer all assisting
Snowstorm nights in huge demand
Graceful lights go out in blisters
Twinkled trails of stars and wand
Braving the cold around the globe
Soaring balloon and bundle of joy
Red and black to hide the old
Yet meekly essenced little boy
Melting in the youthful hopes
While filling up on expectations 
Golden slay bells, white trimmed coat  
Sharing the peace of spirit elation
Spread to those who stay awake
Attached to sleepless hands up North
To polish dreams for children’s sake
Relentlessly they venture forth
Down soot filled chimneys old and new
With aches in back that’s past its prime
And this you always manage to do
Before the running out of time  
But you’re rewarded now and then 
You find the X on treasured map
On countless roofs from way back when
Cradled to sleep on angel’s lap

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Independent with People

We are independent with people on earth
Our mortal angels are always there to assist us
But, we can never be independent in everything
God is our everything


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Children of the Future

Oh, children of the future
Do tread a different pace
Than their parents back in times bygone
So ignorant of life's race;
Now the boy becomes a man
And a woman takes her place

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Alluring Lure

She’s fifty–three years of age today
And she has lost none of her allure.
How many small girls have longed for her?
There are none of us who can be sure.

Millions of our children have loved her,
In many countries around the world.
Eighty careers in fifty-three years
As new versions of her have unfurled.

She keeps up with the current fashions,
And perhaps she has inspired quite a few.
Like many of the baby boomers
Barbie wants what she wants when it’s new.

Three dollars could buy a new Barbie
Back in Nineteen-hundred-fifty-nine. 
Some railed that she sent the wrong message,
While others have declared her divine. 

Women and men have collected her
Lured by her beauty and growing fame.
Ten thousand dollars for a Barbie
Has added to luster of her name.


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Five Young Children

Five young children.
Lost and alone.
No one to care for them.
No one home.

Where are their parents?
Sitting in the bar.
Once the drinks have all been poured,
The fights will go too far.

Remember those poor children
waiting there at home.
They're too young to change their lives
or live them on their own.

Are there other children?
Lost and alone?
No one to care for them?
No one home?

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My Honeysuckle moor

Honeysuckle is blooming does catch my eye                                                            Funny, trouble is I have never seen                                                                         Bunnies chuckle or cared how time flies                                                                    Sunny, cuddled all in green was everything                                                                       *                                                                                                                       Surprise is I never seen this before                                                                               arise curiosity I must find                                                                                       Uprises, trees of honeysuckle moor                                                                                  a prize to claim so I climb tree by vine                                                                 *                                                                                                                        Nesting a top this suckled strewn tree                                                                               Jesting to myself I’m in a crow’s nest                                                                          resting in moments of the wondrously                                                                     Testing imaginations that lie in the breast                                                            *                                                                                                                        Fortune finds place’s Express my garden                                                                           Horton hears a who hatching an egg                                                                               Horsemen unscrambling a heart hardened                                                                         Warden you’ll never find but I beg * --                                                                           A Lento poem

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He's of a bright yellow and auburn color,
and Autumn leaves match his feathers well;
what a gorgeous canary stands on my window-sill...
and I call him the friendliest, most talented warbler!

Next door, there are heartless and crazy boys who harm birds
by using slings and stones to bring them down,
and then watch them die by inflicting more pain;
that's so cruel, don't ever do it to another canary, rascals!

Kids, don't kill my bird...he's a useful animal
with the biggest heart in the Fauna's kingdom,
if he ever died, I would be confined to dreary boredom!
Let him live, so that I can continue living through the Fall!

He comes to visit me hardly flipping his wings so fragile,
and he surprises me sometimes, while I play at the piano so carried away
by the notes that himself sings for me in a triad chord so simple;
would you want to hear him sing that melody...are you listening to me?

Birds are put in cages, if they were wild animals like lions and tigers,
but they are the beautiful and gentle creatures of the Wild and they run from hunters,
not from bird-watchers...and you say,"They aren't intelligent or wise!"
Watch them in their habitat:  you'll learn to adore them, and love them for life!

Kids, don't kill my bird...he has caring parents like those in a loving family,
I rescued him from a forest's trap...his legs were caught and they bled;
I took him home and gave him first aid, and he miraculously survived!
Did God send this bird to test me how compassionate I would be?

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Big Nickel Jail

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada

It's said by some
that the Big Nickel Mine
ran a jail for years
when there wasn't a fine.

There were hundreds of kids
whom their parents locked up
while they took their pictures
with an old tin cup.

Though they rattled the bars
and some did pout.
After just a few minutes
the parents let them out.

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Religious Freedom

The right of every man to follow his conscience 
In choosing and practicing his religion
Acknowledgement of religions are not saying
That all religions are equal or equally true


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Oops A Daisy

"Eeny, meany, miney, moe" "We all fall down and go boom" "Oops a daisy" and "Shake a leg" And my favourite, "Silly baboon" Heard 'em all a million times Oh to go back to those days Just to experience the fun again The simple games we played Not a solitary care in the world We'd come in for lunch and dinner Then off we'd go exploring again After all, we were just beginners Experiencing things every day Like skipping rocks on the pond The joys of the world around us It was like waving a magic wand Too bad we all have to grow up Do serious adult like things I'd much rather travel back in time And jump and skip and sing © Jack Ellison 2014

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                                  SMOKEY THE CURIOUS CAT

Through all his years he was such fun,
Companion, Friend, and more;
Adventure was his middle name,
And I was never bored,

As long as Smokey was around,
He'd brighten up the day.
He'd snuggle, cuddle, kiss and swat,
and say,"Come on, let's play."

I had some turtles in a bowl,
As cute as they could be;
They disappeared while I was out,
Found under the settee.

I had my suspicions,
About how they got there,
So I watched my little buddy,
But he never moved a hair.

Then one day he strolled by me,
With something in his mouth.
I followed him to the livingroom,
He crawled beneath the couch.

He placed a turtle on the floor,
And gently lay beside it,
Just watching it so patiently,
Not hurting it a bit.

Slowly it stuck out it's head,
Then it began to move,
Curiously he watched it go,
Thought Smokey,"He's got groove."

"I like this tiny little guy,
I wonder what it is."
I reached in and picked it up.
"Busted, here's the miz."

"These guys will die without their bowl,
Smokey, don't do that;
But I still love you best you know,
You are the best of cats."

                                                  Judy Ball

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What does the name Christ signifies

The name Christ signifies Messias
The Great Prophet
High Priest and
King of the New Law anointed as a man with the fullness of divine power

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What virtues are opposed to 7 Capital or Deadly Sins

Humility is opposed to Pride
Generosity to covetousness
Chastity to lust
Meekness to anger
Temperance to Gluttony
Love to envy and
Diligence to Sloth


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In my sleep they came jeering,
making awful noises...shaking my bed;
I couldn't either move or talk and hearing
them speak a weird language, I covered my head.

Many nights I dreamt of corpses in cold graves,
I was walking into that cemetery I used to visit;
dead people couldn't harm me I thought to myself,
little did I know they were evil spirits who could have.

They kept on coming in dark, frightful dreams,
they tied me down with ropes and laughed,
I screamed, but nobody head my screams;
mom and dad were in the next room, they chatted.

One stormy November night, before going to bed,
I put garlic cloves underneath the mattress,
and waited for them to come closer and snap;
my plan worked, they sniffed the garlic and left!

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Fruits of the Holy Spirit

Love, Joy, Peace
Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness
Gentleness and Self Control
Gal 5:22-23

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Is Jesus Christ more than one person and what do we mean by that

Jesus Christ is one in 3 Divine Persons
God the Father
God the Son and
God the Holy Spirit (Ghost)


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Nothing But Steam

A look at the world through children's eyes
Opens a bright new scene
Some things that reach a boiling point
Turn out to be nothing but steam!

Kids have this way of looking at things
We can learn from these little guys
Don't take life too seriously
You won't get out of it alive!

Laugh at the world, it's just a game
One with the most marbles wins
What can you buy with a bunch of marbles?
Maybe a bottle of grins!

A look at the world through children's eyes
And all of a sudden you're free
Free to go round talking to birds
To climb a big old oak tree

Life was so much simpler then
In the morning you went out to play
Winter or summer made no difference
That's how you spent your day!

A look at the world through children's eyes
Opens a bright new scene
Some things that reach a boiling point
Turn out to be nothing but steam!

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Oops A Daisy

"Eeny, meany, miney, moe" 
"We all fall down and go boom" 
"Oops a daisy" and "Shake a leg" 
And my favourite, "Silly baboon" 

Heard 'em all a million times 
Oh to go back to those days 
Just to experience the fun again 
The simple games we played 

Not a single solitary care in the world 
We'd come in for lunch and dinner 
Then off we'd go exploring again 
After all, we were just beginners 

Experiencing things every day 
Like skipping rocks on the pond 
The joys of the world around us 
It was like waving a magic wand 

Too bad we all have to grow up 
Do serious adult like things 
I'd much rather travel back in time 
And jump and skip and sing

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Left For Dead

They thought she was a loser
and they laughed at all her pain.
They chose to just ignore her
when she started to complain.

They took her so deep under
that she wondered if she'd live.
Then she heard a voice inside her
say she had so much to give.

They did just what they wanted.
They could hurt her everyday.
They could say she'll never make it
but she knew she'd break away.

They left her how they liked her
as she curled up in a ball.
Of course she couldn't stand up, 
she was so very small.

The one thing that they gave her
was her faith she had in prayer.
That's all she ever needed
to begin her life out there.

They didn't know the favor
they had done for her instead.
They made her a survivor
when they left her there for dead.

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How were the merits of Jesus Christ applied to our souls

The merits of Jesus Christ are applied to our souls through the Sacraments
Especially Baptism
Which restore us to the friendship of God


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A different world beyond our back gate

Summer was here at last
cricket,stumps and pads,
dusted off,leather on willow,
echoed across the green

No scorers or umpires,to dispute
adjudicate,challenge or replay,
honesty justice shout,if
caught,bowled or run out

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Bee's Knees

If bees have knees
They must be quite tiny
What about elbows
Or cute tiny heinies?

And what about thighs
That end at the knees?
Do they ever wear shorts?
Are they hassled by fleas?

Now how about hair
Is it long and flowing?
Do they wear tiny parkas
In the winter when snowing?

When one tells a joke
Do the other ones giggle?
Can they write with a pen
Does it just look like squiggles?

There's no answer to these
And their other great fears
When a bee friend dies
Do they cry honey tears?

©Jack Ellison 2012

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Nap Time

There was a little bird
With wings so pretty blue
He flew into your room
In hopes of seeing you

Our little bird was sleepy
He put his little head
upon your yellow pillow
and this is what he said

"I'm going to take a nap
do you want to join me?
We can sleep upon your bed
Instead of in a tree..."

For the kiddies contest....

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The Throw Aways

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.

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What effects of Anger in our soul

Anger begets in our souls impatience
And too often habit of cursing

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Shooting Match Sticks

Big “J” and I each had BB guns They were Daisy Red Ryder’s Not as powerful as a Benjamin With a pump up type slider As kids our allowance wasn’t much We had to buy our BB’s We’d run out and have nothing to shoot Even tried to shoot dried peas For a while we switched and used sling shots Hard to find rocks that are round Then we shot match sticks out of our guns Once their shot they can be found No they sure didn’t go very far And hardly ever went straight We liked to shoot at wasps on their nests If you hit one it was great When those match sticks kept hitting the nest Yellow Jackets would get mad Sooner or later it made them swarm And then we got stung real bad Never did find a good substitute Wasp shooting was so much fun We kept a close watch on what they did Sometimes we left at a run

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What 3 sins seem to cause most evil in the world

Dishonesty and
They are therefore to be carefully avoided at all times


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Fishing Fun

Our fishing trips arn't fruitful,
but they're always lots of fun.
We always have a story
about losing "the big one".

Most of the time we're casting
while dad says "Watch your pole!
To be a real good fisherman
you have to play the role!"

"You can't keep reeling in your bait.
Patience is the key.
If you just stare right at the tip...
You'll get will see."

"Stop making noise!", "Stop fidgeting!"
"Who drank up all my pop???"
"Don't hit her!" and "Don't look at him!"
"This fighting's got to stop!!"

Just when we reach the fishing hole
of course you need to pee!!
Next week we'll try it all again!
It'll be fun... REALLY... You'll see!

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                                           I REMEMBER SMOKEY

Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
As we were playing soldier.

Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop.
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.

To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.

My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend good night,
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.

They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace,
I'm sure the neighbors heard his scream,
You should have seen her face.

We snuck up very slowly,
They never heard a sound,
They thought that they were all alone,
With no one else around.

The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him,"ATTACK!"
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.

The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll prob'ly have a scar!"

The young boy swore that he was bit,
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said,"But not the cat,
The teeth he felt were mine."

Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.

She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.

So cute and sweet, she had it all,
You'd think she had it made;
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.

                                                   Judy Ball

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Sudbury Children

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,
despite alarm.

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A Fairy Tale

 Looking like a tiny  princess
Her dress the palest blue
Gold dust falling round her
A happy giggle as  she flew

She laughed and then went flitting
Around the garden park
Resting on a toadstool
Listening to the golden lark

Her feet in rosy satin slippers
With shiny buckles too
I knew I must be dreaming
When she sipped the morning dew

All to soon the picture faded
As I heard a voice so  sweet
"Up my dear; its time for school"
Alas, my fairy dream complete............

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The countless flights of noisy seagulls
seem like my days once idled away,
sitting by the ocean appeasing the relentless loneliness of my blues...
beyond that horizon, so traveled by ships, another sunset faded away.

Being brought here by destiny's hasteness,
I am unable to return to my adored land...
hinderd by unknown forces more devastating than summer's violent storms and hurricanes;
even the gentlest breeze can erase those memories still imprinted into the smooth sand. 

Springs have been short and winters last much longer, 
and only the red Lighthouse surrenders to darkness;
the gelid winds of the North batter the snow-decorated docks making the waves rise higher;
this calm harbor resembles a Norvegian fiord from where the Vikings left in small vessels.

Serenity is deeply felt, but not readily greeted as in other milder seasons,
and I can endure the harshness of any winter day with this heavy coat...
the cold and hungry beggar could use it and keep herself warm and sleep peacefully at night;
where's she? I've been sitting by the ocean, she hasn't come to melt away my frozen tears!

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The Child Soldiers

The scars of war are worn with scorn
By those who propagate the pain
And leave the flesh all flayed and torn
As blood is washed away with rain.

No way to count the thousands dead,
All victims of gross vanity.
They fell to monsters born and bred
Who thrive in their perversity.

They slaughter sons and daughters all
And find great pleasure in the kill
As populations quickly fall;
Their lust for blood is never still.

To force a child to kill his own
Is part of their horrific game;
These children lost and so alone
Until they lose all sense of shame.

And is the world still unaware
Of this insane reality?
Or has it lost its soul somewhere
That's blind to such brutality?

It seems the world will be at war
Until that final burst of light
When God adds up the final score
Of every soul lost to the night.

And somewhere in the Universe
Another world will then begin.
Will life again become perverse
And drown the children in its sin? 

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Baby Memories

The stories of my early babyhood
Are surely second hand.
I was too young to remember as
I'm sure you'll understand.

My parents had four sons before
The day I came along.
You can be sure that I was welcomed
And for years could do no wrong.

Those young brothers were as happy 
As were my mom and dad,
That they had a  baby siser
Made everyody glad.

My brothers ages four to ten
Would hurry home each day
Just to be sure I was still there,
That I hadn't gone away.

My brother Charlie, six years old
The day I came aboard,
Gazed at me and then exclaimed,
"Now if we only had a Ford'.

I have a picture at six months
Sitting on my daddy's knee.
He's looking down with such delight,
I can see his pride in me.

I don't think I have true memories
Until I was nearly three,
But the love surrounding me at birth,
Today is still with me.

The dear folks there to greet me
On my long ago day of birth
Are waiting in Heaven with the love
They showered on me on Earth.

For Caties "Baby Boo Shoes" contest

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Suicide Survives

Fictitious families
Dysfunctional means
Compromised children
Capricious teens

Serrated self-loathing
Culling scarred skin
Dapper diagnoses
Dulling depression’s din

Psychotropic pulses
Sedentary screams 
Subjugated subjects
Catharsis of dreams

Dusk dawning
In convenience’s vanity
Vociferous voices
Pilfering sedated sanity

Slurred smiles
Lithium lies
Hanging from vestiges
Suicide survives

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I am without anything now that I’m not with you
And Lord knows I miss the taste of your smile
I miss a perfectly designed dream come true
Because you made mounting a mountain seem a mild mile

You gave me butterflies and lightning bugs as a gracious gift
Because of you the morning wasn’t agony anymore
It didn’t matter if I worked in the day or the midnight shift
When I returned you would be there with a smile at our door

Ain’t nobody’s business how deeply we loved one another
But they could tell in our eyes and the way we held hands
Ain’t nobody’s business how I loved you, not even my brother
While I kissed you under the elm tree in the peaceful place it now stands

When you used to approach me it would make my heart race
Now that I’m without you I want to know exactly why
And it’s difficult when I need to forget your emphatic embrace
So now you know from whence comes my woeful wish to die
          © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~

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How wrong is the notion than having two great loves...
doesn't make a heart absorb what it immensely adores.

My natural motherland is that southern European country
kisses by the warm waves of the Mediterrean sea,
where a great empire rose and conquered others,
only defeated by the barbarians like the Huns.

My adopted motherland was discovered by Columbus,
who with three ships sailed the Atlantic Ocean confidently, 
hoping to find a route to India, the land of spices and mystery...
and he thought all along it he had found it without any loss.

The first one made a dreamer out of me overnight,
and inspired me with her breathtaking landscapes and skies;
who has ever see Mount Vesuvius throught a teenager's eyes,
and be somewhat moved by the magnificent sight?

The second one nourished my erring and poetic spirit so sensible:
seeing snow-capped mountains, green vallies and sun-drenched canyons;
there all thoughts fled to find kids playing with crayons,
attempting to draw with ingenuity images very awesome and beautiful.

These two countries are loved by me as I loved sweet mother;
the old one holds her strict religious values and the other has more realistic freedom,
not suggesting to quickly discard one, and embrace the other;
I will definitely love them both and honor their flags with the joyful beats of my drum.

How happy and grateful I am to have had these friends fulfilling my worthiness
that  daily shaped my character and broadened my avenues towards success.

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Skipping down the street they come  -
Tomorrow’s engineers and psychiatrists,
And journeys out of this world for some,
Or professors at college if dad insists.

But for the moment they’re dressed as elves
And fairy princesses  -
Quite unconscious of themselves
And their minds’ latent recesses.

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What effect has Lust on our souls

Lust begets in our souls a distate for holy things
Perverted conscience
Hatred of God
Frequently leads to complete loss of faith

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Reaching my golden age 
was an improbable, distant image...
rarely thought of, or even visualized by me,
I still cherish the fancy-free boy that was me!

My careful footsteps have become slower,
and my skin is losing its gleaming, brilliant look;
I stand before my photographs displayed underneath
the hand-painted coat of arms with a disillusioned, displeasing glare!   

Could that handsome young man be me?
His skin is so smooth and his teeth dazzling white,
lots of strands with curly hair reflecting a resplendent light...
he's smiling staring at his friend, who's kissing a girl called, "Mimi."  

And unstoppable, bitter tears relentlessly flow; why haven't
childhood and youth waited another year, or even another longest day,
to let me breath with more easiness, seeing myself once again a virile lad...
how horrible and scary is to face the merciless phantom, who will take me away!

But this faith is too strong, and I can defeat any evil force;
and although I seem unable to fight as I did when strength was mine,
an angel will escort me to the gate, which will open to greet this faithful one...
not regretting anymore that improbable, distant image retreating and fading as reality itself!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Memories of Gram's House

Gram, today we celebrate your birthday, so I decided to write you a poem
To tell how you were like my second mother, and your house, my second home

Many precious memories; my earliest one is sitting in the washtub taking a bath
Making cookies from leftover pie dough, sneaking over to see you by crawling on 
the path

Meals at the picnic table, gliding on the porch swing on a warm summer night
And when Gump came home from work, how I loved to jump out to give him a 

Many hours of playtime I fondly recall; under the steps, I was in a plane flying high 
Playing house in the yard with three rocks for my chairs, herding toy horses, as 
the hours passed me by

Thanks for all those holiday meals, for encouraging me to read God's word when 
I was young
Just for being such a wonderful grandma, giving me so many memories to 
cherish in the years to come!
                                                          Love Always,

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                                        SMOKEY - MY FIRST FRIEND

Smokey was a funny cat,
You could see him think.
His favorite place to do this,
Was table or kitchen sink.

He'd loll about for hours,
In seemingly deep thought,
Musing o'er life's mysteries,
Or the mouse he never caught.

He looked so wise just sitting there,
Mysterious and ancient;
Never bothering anyone,
Complacent and so patient.

The only thing he didn't like,
Was being combed and groomed.
If you picked up his comb and brush,
He'd quickly leave the room.

I sweqr sometimes he read our minds,
Knew what we were about,
He understood our every word,
Of that there was no doubt.

He was my friend from babyhood.
We were babes together.
He taught me climbing, stealth nd patience;
our bond could not be severed.

He taught me to look nonchalant,
And even innocent,
If by chance I should get caught,
Whene'er house rules were bent.

Whenever Mom and Dad were cross,
He taught me how to blend,
Into the background or become,
So cute they had to grin.

My memories of him are fond,
I thought he'd live forever.
He taught me fun and love and loyalty,
He won't die, not ever.

                                                          Judy Ball

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What is Sloth

Sloth is laziness of mind and
Through which we neglect our duties
On account on the labor they require


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Chickens and Eggs

Uncle Spivy and Dad were in business It was located in the downtown They sold poultry and eggs at whole sale To all the super markets around Dad would load up lots chicken coops Go to Arkansas in the big truck He’d buy range chickens from farmers there Had to drive careful not to get stuck Chickens ran loose, they were everywhere Catch-um and put-um into the coops We loaded them up and tied them down Our shoes were all filled up with their poops In the downtown poultry and egg store Where the eggs were all packaged and sold Candle each one to be sure it’s good Do it son! “Works good for your soul” This I can tell you with certainty We had poultry or eggs everyday Would’ve burned out on them completely Except Mom cooked them all kinds of ways

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Ah, Those Childhood Days

The green grass of youth held such happy times
From picnics, to football, to baseball and more
But, now it holds something that I don’t quite like
The weekly mowing that has become my sole chore

Childhood days have long, long since gone
The laughter, the innocence, the life, the fun
I would love to go back to those days before
As I’d be outside playing past the setting sun

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Father Christ Deal

Eternal Father saw outnumber of people’s sins 
Sad with what He created
He wanted to destroy the world
People hurting each other

Father Christ stopped Him
Told the Eternal Father He would go down to earth
Take People’s cruelty
To start His power over people

He told the Eternal Father people would understand
Ransom Himself
Not to destroy the world
Believed people to be one

Eternal Father searched a woman
To conceive and bear a Son
Angel Gabriel spoke to Mother Mary
You have found favor from (Eternal) God
Holy Spirit will shine over you
You are to name Him Jesus
He will save people from their sins
To save destruction of the world

Father Christ started a Church
For People to be Universal
People don’t understand
In His Church people are saved

What are these other churches?
In there you are not saved
Don’t be fooled
By the Christ’s like religions

There is only one
Deal to the Father
Be Universal to His Church
Roman Catholic

To understand the Two Greatest Commandments
“Love God all your mind, heart, body and soul”
2nd is “Love your neighbor as yourself”
When we love our neighbor, Covers the 1st Greatest Commandment

Other Churches are misleading people
Thought they loveFather Christ
Person who created their Church 
Was the person they believed  and loved

Father Christ is very hurt
People don’t know in His Church 
You’re saved
In others you’re condemned


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Elmer Fudd with his waaspy voice
Was one of my favouwit tooners
Fowever chasing that wascally wabbit
He'll catch him later than sooner

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How long did Father Christ lived on earth

Father Christ lived on earth for about 33 years
Most holy life 


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                                                  SMOKEY AND ME

Smokey was a funny cat,
Filled with fun and love;
Adventurous as all cats are,
And Master of the Hunt.

He stalked the house in search of that,
Which posed some kind of threat,
A bug, a mouse, a ball of yarn,
No pest escaped his net,

That he had formed around our house,
He took responsibility,
To protect us from it all,
Because we were his family.

From babyhood he was my ken,
He always slept with me,
We played for hours in the yard,
Beneath the old Oak tree.

We climbed my swing set, climbed the tree,
Played in my sand box too,
Imagine my surprise to find,
He used it for a loo.

Kitty cat and little girl,
Fought jungle wars, climbed trees,
And then we sailed the Seven Seas,
Buccaneers were we.

We'd hide behind the sofa,
The curtains or in the hall,
And wait in ambush for our prey,
We really had a ball.

My sister's boyfriend happened by,
One night as we were hiding,
I yelled,"Chaarge!" and Smokey leaped,
The boy knocked off the siding,

On the book case in the hall,
As Smokey climbed his leg,
And we were sent to bed that night,
'thout supper though I begged.

Incarcerated pirates we,
The game continued on,
We'd wait until they were asleep,
Then eat til it was gone.

Then we'd escape into the night,
With valuables they cherished,
We'd be away by early light,
Leaving the guard embarrassed.

                                                    Judy Ball

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Things necessary to make sins mortal

Three things are necessary to make a sin mortal
A grievous matter
Sufficient reflection
And dull consent of the will

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Boogey And Boopy

...for Tarah and Alina

Boogey and Boopy will never be droopy
as long as they play in the grass(es),
they'll rumble and tumble with nary a grumble,
so cute when they fall on their ***** !

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Today I took my little girl to school
There was a whole lot of stairs to climb
A whole lot of bending to the rule
That I bended before I gave her time.

I was older and wiser than when I came
For myself alone in father's faint
Footsteps, trembling my fear to tame
In her eyes I saw light and restraint.

Should she hold my hand, or stand apart
What does each child think of her
How can she improve me with modern art
Or make me lovable to critics of her?

Invisible in the world beyond, my little girl
Now wishes it was still so in the room
Where all her peers stood shaking at the world
Wearing their parents eyes like perfume.

O the little desk would not hold me again
My stride here takes the stairs in twos
But still the same is the parting and pain
My little girl is in her world to learn and choose.

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Mousies Running Wild

There's a bunch of furry animals
Running around our house
Cats and dogs and ferrets
And even a little mouse!

Now Mom and Dad aren't happy
With mousies running wild
But we sure love our furry friend
He brings us lots of smiles!

He plays a pretty fine fiddle
That big folks cannot hear
Unaware of those happy tunes
Dancing in their ears!

I've named him Happy Herbie
He brings me so much joy
It's hard to think he's really real
He seems like just a toy!

Don't think I want to grow up
And lose this special gift
Seeing things through little eyes
In dreamland I'm adrift!

©Jack Ellison 2012

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What kind of sin is drunkenness

Deliberate drunkenness, always a mortal sin
If the person is completely deprived of the use of reason by it
But drunkenness is not intended
Or desired may be excused from mortal sin 

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What is Covetousness

Covetousness is Greed
Part of 7 Capital Sins
Or Deadly Sins
Greed is an excessive desire for worldly things

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Closet Doors

Most closet doors are ok, if they're brand new homes.
Decorated with posters of the Rolling Stones.
Oh the monsters I made up when I was a child.
Inside my head were the sights of beasts running wild.

Some closet doors are made to punish naughty kids.
Because parents, though some grand, really blew their lids.
Long timeouts in the dark, sit still and be quiet.
But when I got out, I'd start a brand new riot!

Luckily all those times, are all behind me now.
So when I think back then, there's no beating my brow.
I don't see the monsters, or wild beasts anymore.
But clothes kept getting larger, in my closet doors.

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It's that time of year when all the leaves fall
And the colors are brilliant and bold
I remember when I was younger, you see
Boy, the stories that I haven't told
Maybe right now, is the time to reveal
A story that no one else knows
A story about my childhood days
That was not pretty with how the wind blows
I was about ten, I believe, was the time
I got up to see the leaves fall
But, someone interrupted me, for sure
He told me to come stand by the wall
I did as he told me, so scared, as I was
My hands in the clinch of a fist
I saw things I didn't want to see
My eyes were in such a mist
He looked and touched and that wasn't all
He made me do "things" to him
The violation that took place
Was so dirty and nasty and dim
So, when I think about the leaves falling
It takes me back to a childhood time
That doesn't make any sense to me
For there was no reason or rhyme

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What is Pride

Pride is an excessive love
Of our own ability so that would
Rather sinfully disobey
Than humble ourselves

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An Angel's Request

Listening to my child at play
Through laughter with her dad
My little girl made one request
It kind of made me sad

Whispered in a tiny voice 
She asked him on this night
Daddy can you promise
 To love me for all my life

Her words did not shutter
She waited for him to say
Yes my baby I’ll always love you 
Forever and a Day

In my sadness I did find 
The innocence of my child
She only wants to be loved 
And see a caring smile

As he took her hand 
For one last dance just before bed
I saw her eyes light up
And then she bowed her head

She wanted one more time to hear
That he would always stay
She needed one more reminder
Before they end the day

As he tucked her in to sleep
He whispered in her ear
I will always love you
I promise you this dear

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What is Gluttony

Gluttony like Greed
Excessive desire of Food or Drink
Part of7 Capital sins or 7 Deadly sins
Jesus Christ requires one to confess

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Twelve Apostles

Greek apostolos = someone sent, messenger
The names of the twelve apostles are these
First Simon, who is called Peter [Roman Catholic’s 1st pope] and 
Andrew his brother
James the son of Zebedee 
John his brother
Matthew the tax collector
James the son of Alphaeus 
[Judas [Jude]] Thaddeus
Simon the Cananaean and
Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Him
Mt 10 2-4


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The Holy Cross Church with its neo-Gothic facade was too beauteous and too rare,
so clustered among the aristocratic neat palaces,
choked by the shadows of less ancient buildings;
I often looked up to glance at its tall bell-tower with a chill in my curly hair!

When I was the altar boy, I had to climb a thousand steep steps 
to pull the rough cord and make that brass bell merrily ring,
and it relentlessly tolled far into the fertile valley kissed by spring,
and its resonant strokes summoned all to Vespers at six!!

By all means I should have wisely chosen the priesthood... 
wine and bread I placed on a silver plate to be offered
before the altar, where the invisible eye of God watched me;
I worshiped Him and He blessed me for my sincerity!   

The Holy Cross Church still stands there and its steps invoke my footsteps,
the gentle footsteps of a fine boy who turned his faith into a fervent creed;
and even if sunshine never hit my cold face slanting upward like a shield...
through the glass-stained windows it dazzled to restore the presence of grace! 

How I would like to hear that huge organ play the lovely," Ave Maria"  by Mozart,
making the gathered faithful cry and moved by its inspiring sound I contemplated an art ,
which revered and honored God in His exuberantly expressed by Man's spirit!
No other place, more beautiful than this, can make me forget the awe and joy that I felt!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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He is not more than four
with the adventurous eyes of a conquistador;
he is rascal but cute,
and with his innocence my rebukes he dilutes!

Little rascal, slowly ride your tricycle down the bumpy block;
be careful not to fall off, and don't turn when I yell, " Stop! " 
When I was your age, I did what you are doing now,
and riding fast on grandma's farm...I hit the biggest cow!

Cry when I scold you, it'll teach you a first lesson;
better watch out for danger than get hurt and bleed!
No Spunge Bob's ice cream at six o' clock, if you won't slow down! 
I laugh when you say, " I am sorry! " thinking of your treat!

He has a sharp mind, a knock for furious things and all the more he must dare; 
and as rascal as he seems, he hugs me when he's wrong...and sadly breaks down!
I am a fair uncle, and I wouldn't punish him for a mischief that he has done!
And pedaling away he gets more thrilled than a clown with fuzzy, red hair!

He is growing up too quickly by the day,
and like a rebellious grown-up...he puts up more resistance,
but if he thinks he'll get away with his childish mischievousness,
aside form being rascal but cute, in a second I'll wisk him away! 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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What is mortal sin

Mortal sin is grievous offense against the law of God
This sin is called mortal because it deprives us of spiritual life
Sanctifying grace
Brings everlasting death and damnation of the soul

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Confessions of a Teenage Catholic

You hate my purple hair
You hate the way I dress
You hate the ones I call upon
When I am in distress

They hate my righteous attitude
They hate the way I drive
They hate the lies I tell them
In order to survive

You hate my independence
You hate the way I sing
You hate my strange addictions
And the consequence they bring

He hates my hidden heartstrings
He hates our time apart
He hates the distance in my eyes
When it’s not what’s in my heart

I hate myself with you
I hate myself with him
I hate myself for being here
Confused in wretched sin

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Vaccinate The Pigs

When I lived on the farm in West Texas Dad had a bunch of young pigs One day he said “Come on boys, we got a job, Let’s go down to the pig digs” He said, we’ve got vaccinate them all And we all must do our bit You boys catch a pig and bring him to me Into that pen and hold it Then your mom will pull the his hind legs apart I’ll shoot the medicine in Then you boys have another pig ready So we can do it again Big “J” and I thought, Boy! This will be fun Catching those pigs for our Dad But there were about fifty pigs in all And after ten, I’d been “had” It was the hardest work I’d ever done Catching a pig’s hard enough But those devils fight you all of the time Didn’t know they were so tough It was dark by the time the job was done The next day I couldn’t move It was all in vain, that work was for naught As all the pigs we did lose

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If I Only Knew

If I only knew.....
how all of this would end.
Would it change my thoughts of you?
Would you become my friend?

If I only knew.....
how much time that we've got.
Could I let my guard down?
Could I take that shot?

If I only knew.....
You wanted to know me.
That would make the difference.
It's what I just can't see.

The only thing I really know
is that you are too late.
I've tried to beg, to cry and scream.
This life may just be fate.

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What are the effects of Venial sin

The effects of venial sin are 
Lessening of the love of God on our heart
The making us less worthy of His help
And weakening of the power to resist mortal sin

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Melancholy Eyes

Melancholy Eyes
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

There, in the midst of glittering eyes, 
Dark, brown, luring enticingly round
Seeking.  Smiles and playful laughter cries. 
Melancholy eyes, joy never found.

Children are laughing, jumping, playing.
Huddling against a tree is she.
Safely standing alone, while watching.
Through tears, her melancholy eyes see.

Summer flowers all around invite.
Yellow shimmering beneath the sun.
She with soulful fear hides out of sight.
Giggling girls pick them one by one.

Youth’s sparkle, stolen from her face, sighs.
No word of hurt passes her taught lips.
There, in the midst of glittering eyes,
Some child’s happiness, through the crack, slips.

Shall we as one great society,
Watch while from the masses leaders rise.
Continuing life diligently.
Unaware.  Oh, melancholy eyes.

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What is Temptation

Temptation is anything that
Or Urges us to offend God

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From the Latin credo = I believe
The first word of the Apostle’s Creed became 
The name of various formulas of the Church’s profession of faith
In which the essential contents of the faith are authoritatively summarized


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Jumping on a trampoline
Falling off could be quite mean!
Jumping up with leaps and bounds
Oh how fun that really sounds!

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"Our family isn't normal!",
you often like to say.
What's wrong with popping wheelies
in a mower race with Ray???

So what if dad likes mooning
and showing off his rear.
You might see when you're older,
You will face your biggest fear.

Your house will be just like ours!
Your kids will all be nuts!
I hope you're ready for this life...
Do you think you've got the guts?

Will you laugh it off
when your "sweetheart" needs a ride...
(even when she say she hopes
you'll duck your head and hide?)

I hope you will remember 
how it felt to be thirteen.
When your family isn't normal,
and your dad's "King of the Bean".

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My Battle

People often ask me
how I ever stood my ground, 
when trouble just surrounds me
and people push me down.

I say to them (with tongue in cheek)
I'm sure my work's not done.
I may have fought the battle,
But the war is not yet won.

I will always manage
to hold my head up high.
(Even though that enables them
to better see me cry.)

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Closed Closets

Summer dresses
Sunset smiles
Intertwined fingers
Infatuation by trial 

Giggling glances
Fidgeting hair
Anticipating lips
Confessions spared

Teenage tongues
Passion spry
Inviting innocence
Naive thighs

Misplaced moment
Serrated sigh
Ripped restraint
Something awry

Smothered trust
Eyes of escape
Groped distress
A cry of rape

Muffled scratches
Screaming tears
Convulsing portrait
Of frozen fear

Scared secrets
Trembling outside 
Closed closets
Daughters inside

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From the Latin credo = I believe
The first word of the Apostle’s Creed became 
The name of various formulas of the Church’s profession of faith
In which the essential contents of the faith are authoritatively summarized


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Love for the Game

She stood there strong, fully armed
Ready to swing when the time was right
She saw it coming, so confident she was
She swung the bat and kissed the ball goodnight

With one girl on, no score as of yet
She was ready and had known what to do
So when she hit that ball, the bright yellow orb,
It went so far in the sky, it was lost from my view

Seeing what she did, she gave me a smile
She wanted to see the pride in her father’s eyes
For I wasn’t only viewing, but I’m also her coach
When she hit that ball, I wasn’t the least bit surprised

She is my athlete, a pure body of talent at ten
Her team is also grateful for all she has done
She’s a pitcher, first basemen, even a catcher too
She thanks God for all the games she has won

She knows she has talent, but laughs it all off
She just wants fun and to play with her friends
But she does give thanks for all that she can do
For a smile up to heaven, she also sends

Now, she’s running home, score number two
Her team has just won that long dragged out game
They were screaming, so happy they all seemed to be
As she touched home plate they were yelling her name

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Lesser Expectations

Upsidedown on monkey bars
hanging from my knees,
dopey grins are sorrowful frowns
and upward drift dry leaves

Swinging back to front –
my favorite view of life,
bobbleheads go  bobbing by
and time ticks counterclockwise

Only for me!

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Just Me

I'm not the "Scum from Swartz Creek".
I'm not the "Geek from Gaines".
I'm not the "Brat from Byron",
but the stigma still remains.

I've worn so many labels
and I've lived up to them all.
Refuse to be on display.
I just can't take the fall.

If what you see is ugly,
or just not what you'd be,
try to see how important it is
that you be you and I be me.

I'm not the Scum from Swartz Creek.
I'm not the Geek from Gaines.
I'm not the Brat from Byron,
but the stigma still remains.

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The Worst Warriors After Wars

Having suffered years of grueling tyranny, 
Sand is still red which should be tawny. 
Iraq has become a land of widows 
Men are cruely killed there in rows. 

Due to war when families are separated, 
Children are those who are worst affected. 
Phan Thi Kim Phuc is name of that woman, 
Who became goodwill ambassador in 1997, 

UNESCO gave her this honorable position 
She was photographed in a piteous condition, 
During the Vietnam War, in her childhood. 
But every child victim's luck isn't so good. 

War ends, in some years country recoups, 
Civilians honor their patriotic brave troops. 
Injured soldiers medicated at country's cost, 
Children loose their shelters when they need the most. 

Educatlion is far from such kid's dream
They have to leave their self-esteem
Fighting for food, having memories of terrors, 
After a war, they are the worst warriors. 

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My Daughter's Nightmare

She came to me with watery eyes,
Screaming of some bad dreams, she had.
My question, I asked of my little girl
Was, “Why are you crying? Why are you sad?”

She told me she thought of us leaving,
My wife and I, from her world and sight.
She cried hysterically at thoughts of our passing,
That all I could do was comfort, hold her tight.

This poor little girl had a sense of reality,
Though, luckily death hasn’t happened as of yet.
I reassured her we’re not going any time soon
And if life were a gamble, I’d place a bet.

She looked at me through her red-teared eyes,
Smiled briefly, as she questioned life with God above.
I realized my ten year old was growing so fast
And at this moment was sharing all of her love.

I told her that we would again, one day be together
Provided we live well and always do our best.
She said, “Daddy, I think I understand it all now.
We have to work together in life. That is our test.”

She showed me age doesn’t give wisdom, love does.
She let me know of her true unwavering love.
She taught her father a thing or two, this night,
About life and death, both, being gifts from above.

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Happy They Are

The two happily ride off to their sunsets
Bridled and tethered, on horses they sit
With smiles so wide, present as they gallop
They tighten their hold on the harness a bit

Pulling the reigns ever so tight now
Seeing them kick their spurs to the side
Let me know of the fun they are now having
As they travel in circles on this carousel ride

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Kenzie and Ava

One has a sleeping bag
One a knit hat
in pink with a pearly
heart button at that
One loves her poetry
One loves to sing
She hums with maturity
whispered age brings
Both love to dance
(they sure do love to dance)
They hold hands in waltzes
and butterfly prance
They twirl with no music
and laugh twinkle eyes
They tumble in heaps
of their sweetness surprise
Both are identical
Both are unique
Both hold my heart
trapped in moments they keep
One has dark curly hair
One in straight blond
Plastic barrettes 
to the ball and beyond
One loves her somersaults
One loves her art
Both love each other
and never will part...