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Quatrain Family Poems | Quatrain Poems About Family

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The Love of a Gentle Man

There is a place where the land bows down to kiss the misty tide,
Where rolling waves bring memories of the place my heart resides.
There among the old fishing shacks that stretch along the shore,
I find the thing I’m longing for, in your sweet embrace once more.

We sit together on a weathered log I carve my initials on,
And as you mend the fishing net, I sing your favorite song,
“Oh Danny Boy”, falls on the wind and floats across the bay,
As you smile at me and melt my heart, with words you do not say.

Beneath a golden sun with the fish and the smell of wild flowers,
A little girl and her Grandpa, sit happily and while away the hours,
And when the sun dips in the bay, we put the mended nets away,
And hand-in-hand walk home again, to the end of a perfect day.


                                    ~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George




(In loving memory of Theodore Evans - My Grandfather)


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Lost, Found, and Now Just Missing

Going through some old things that just had to go, I came upon something that nearly got tossed. Memories came to me from long ago. . . . I thrilled that my treasure was no longer lost. Toys come and toys go. In the 60’s, one fad was to own an odd doll not seen much today. This doll had long hair and was scantily clad but wasn’t a Barbie with which I would play! Its body was squat and it had a pug nose. I probably loved it because it looked droll. Its hair could be orange, green, yellow or rose, but if you don’t know yet, that doll was a troll! How I wish I could dredge up some memory to know what was happening inside my head as a pre-teen with friends and what it might be that we did with those dolls and what fun things we said! The trolls that I owned must have been at least four - both sexes so they'd make a small family - their hair different hues, each a doll to adore. But one day they no longer mattered to me. . . I can’t say where all of my playthings got stashed. When I left for college, they vanished from view. But knowing my mom, they must have got trashed. She doesn’t hang on much to things like I do. Now four decades later, I looked at my prize, bare naked and smudged but its hair still jet black. It stared up at me with its cute amber eyes. I couldn’t believe how I got that thing back! It somehow had ended up in my new state. Good luck for that troll, I throw few things away! That doll would be learning soon of its new fate and meet other troll dolls with whom it would stay. Just like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow old, and new trolls I’d bought with long bright spiky hair when troll dolls again in the 90's were sold! But I had to recall where I’d stored them….. oh, where??
(I found the dolls and added the old one to the new collection, but my daughter's family moved in with me a few months ago. My daughter is a clean freak like MY mom is (apparently it skips a generation or something), and my daughter took my troll dolls and put them out of sight somewhere so currently they are floating around who knows where! For Paula Swanson's "Yard Sale" Contest


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Christmas Magic

The magic came to Christmas Day when shepherds first were told, When wise men brought their frankincense, their myrrh and gifts of gold, When heaven opened wide its gates and angels came to sing; For in a manger on the hay, lay Christ, the newborn king. I found it first at Grandma's house, so many years ago, When she prepared her Christmas treats and Grandpa seemed to glow. The house was full of warmth and love, so sweet, so pure and real; And what I cherish most of all, that Christmas magic feel. It's in the music, on the air; just turn the dial to find Inspiring songs that sing of peace, goodwill to all mankind. They sing their praises unto God and spread their Christmas cheer, And everywhere the songs are sung, they find an opened ear. Its clamor, sparkle, warmth and hope, of which we try to write In pretty lines of words and rhymes that never sound just right, Can best be seen in children's eyes when they awake to see What Santa Claus has brought and placed beneath the lighted tree. The magic feel returns each year with warmth on coolish nights, With memories steeped in seasons passed, in songs and blinking lights, At Grandma's house, her Christmas treats, aromas rich and spiced; To recognize the best in man, and honor Jesus Christ.


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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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12,045 Days ......(and counting)

My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone 
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess

He left when I was three 
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us 
For another woman and a couple of beers

He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike 
To teach me how to fish 
Or enjoy a nature hike

Now I'm a father to my son 
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake

It's been nine years and we're going strong 
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine 
My son I guard in a web I've spun

A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing

My son doesn't know the pain I feel 
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting) 






------------------------------------------------------
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......


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Cup of Love

It is a family tradition 
Passed from year to year
That we spend together 
And celebrate with cheer

As the first snowflakes fall
We hear mama’s voice call
"It’s time for hot cocoa;
Come one and come all"

She asks nothing in return
Just quality time to share
Making each cup special
To show how much she cares

Now anxiously we wait
When leaves begin to fall
That cup of love to come
With winters first snowfall


Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend


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Eternal Everlasting Joy

Sometimes, I think about my life
And the prices I have paid
All the places I have been
The choices I have made

Seems somewhere along the path
I stumbled upon a stone
At that moment I realized
I’d forgotten my way home

My home became a prison cell
My memory was forgotten
My soul was like an egg
An egg that had gone rotten

Sorry I had to go away
You didn’t deserve my shame
I moved very far away
No connection to my name

My life has always been a lie
One I kept hidden from you
When you thought I was in college
Serving time up in the zoo

On the day I was released
You thought I graduated
The moment you were most proud
Another lie to be hated

I have learned it’s never to late
I believe those words are true
Grandma I’m on a mission
I will graduate for you

I really want to earn the pride
You gave me so long ago
I think it will bring some peace
Releasing guilt up in my soul


I’ve learned in the game of life
We must earn our pride
Even if the people are gone
Resting on the other side

I’ve learned in the game of life
Even though they may be hard
Choices aren’t like rolling dice
They're not like flipping cards

Choices define who we are
I know these words are true
Every choice I know make
Are bringing me back home to you

Grandma, I know where heaven is
It’s right here inside my heart
Inside of mine your memory
Until death will never part

During the time I have left
I vow to always let it show
All the seeds you sowed in me
I shall nourish as they grow

In the end I’ll sit with you
Just like when I was a boy
We’ll sing and praise Jesus’ name
With eternal everlasting joy




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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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Titanic Forever

My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong. 
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.

My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.

Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.

It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic. 
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.

In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.

Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.

Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?

Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.

Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.

The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.

Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.

That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.

When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.

I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.

© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest:  My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry 
Sponsor	Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver


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The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



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DO ANGELS REALLY COME TO EARTH

Do angels really come to earth,
And sit beside me by the hearth;
And do they watch me through the night,
And keep me safe till morning's light?

Does God really send them here,
To keep me safe so I won't fear;
And do they watch me night and day,
And stay close by me while I play?

Do they watch me climb each hill,
Just in case I take a spill?
God must love me very much,
To take such pains to keep in touch.



"WHOEVER RECEIVES ONE SUCH CHILD IN MY NAME, RECEIVES ME;
BUT WHOEVER CAUSES ONE OF THESE LITTLE ONES WHO BELIEVE IN ME TO STUMBLE,
IT IS BETTER FOR HIM THAT A HEAVY MILLSTONE BE HUNG ABOUT HIS NECK  AND THAT HE BE DROWNED IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA."
                                                                   Matthew 18:5-6

"TRAIN UP A CHILD IN THE WAY HE SHOULD GO AND WHEN HE IS OLD HE WILL NOT DEPART FROM IT."
                         Proverbs 22:6


For Children In Rhyme Contest by Francine Roberts


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As Far As I Can

Sore to the bone
Running on a drop of energy
Just gotta push through
I'll rest eventually

My shoulder has gone numb
But my body feels her weight
As if she's gotten heavy
Since her unconscious state

If I could, I'd stop right now
But who knows how safe it is here
And if I could even start again
I may fall asleep I fear

Soon my body will give up
But I'll make it as far as I can
And hopefully haven isn't too far
And I can put her in helping hands

Walking all day and night
It's hard not to think on past
And any thought I come up with
Has me struggling to hold sobs back

I've kept my ears open
Trying to focus on only sounds
But all I keep on hearing
Is my shoes crunch on foreign grounds

Bang. I hear it softly.
So far but still so near.
Bang. Another gunshot sounds
And I've collapsed in fear.

I close my eyes but another goes off
This time in a memory
And now I'm filled with rage
At how repulsive humans can be

My thoughts turn to my baby
Slipping off of my shoulder
I set her down and examine her
Bloodstained gown and skin colder

My worst nightmare but it can't be true
I listen in for her sweet breath
No. No No. No No. No No.
What's this silence? This isn't death.

This time I don't close my eyes
I see a sight that makes me sob
Memory of the last I saw my wife
And now my baby's with her mom.

Each one of us left covered in crimson
By a monster, a gunshot, a blow
Their death is the death of me.
This is as far as I can go.


May 2010
Inspired by Morris Gleitzman's novel "Once," a historical fiction about a boy in Poland
during the Holocaust.


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Too Much Nasty Poetry

I don't like nasty limericks.
I don't like vulgar words.
I'd rather write of better things, 
like maybe watching birds.

So many poets feel the need
to write such graphic things.
The art of poetry to me
is making words that sing.

It's easy to be nasty.
It takes no brain at all.
But I can't keep from wondering
where you get the gall.

My poems may not be 'genius'.
I'm sure they don't compare
to many other writer's work
but mine, I like to share.

No matter if you're ninety
or if you're only nine
you needn't feel ashamed to click
on poetry that's mine.


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Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "



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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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Dad Was The Last Snowflake

The last great snowflake standing
Little snowflakes fell swiftly
All around the house they fell
Eight male flakes_three little girls

House was lively in winter
As they all warmed by the fire
Boys' boistour tales, girls brush long hair
Then silence all rested heads

At four A.M. each morn_chores
Breakfast, lunch packed off to school
Walking that long mile was rule
School was important dad said

Soon the oldest snowflake wed
As life goes all followed him
Leaving the warm hearth behind
Some of them to produce twins

As life goes_death visited
All their humble doors sadness
Some had children die at birth
And some at very young age

What they saw in their lifetime
Changes that took place_cars_planes
Atom bomb that ended war
None their warm family disgraced

Death started visiting doors
One above  middle went home first
Then slowly they all went home
But dad was the last snowflake


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Evil, Wicked And Demented

We sisters three are scary as scary can be.
 Evil is tormented, haunted by choices of her past.
Wicked is hollow, and the most bitter of the three.
 Demented is angry, and so cold that her blood turns icy fast.

All paranoid and suspicious in everything they do.
 Evil has had her dreams snatched from her grasp.
She feels alone, and her ghosts are from her missing crew.
 Her pain is enough to make even the strongest gasp.

Each one is afraid to let anyone breach their wall.
 Wicked is a lover who has been badly used.
She never thought she'd love, but eventually she did fall.
 Only to be lied to, cheated on and abused.

They only have each other to trust and rely on.
 Demented has been the victim of ominous play.
She was captured and used like a chess pawn.
 Now all will pay the price and rue that fateful day.

So as you see Evil, Wicked and Demented are strong.
 If you see them coming, you might should run and hide.
They will forever be trying to right the wrong.
 Be careful if you are a user, a liar, hateful or snide.


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Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.


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Pink Bundled

				      

We’re welcoming our newest,
a little girl has come has come.
She’s sweeter than a melon
or a ripe and juicy plum

You’ll find her by her mommy’s side,
in pink from head to toe.
When she has rested just a bit 
she’ll be ready for her show.

She has a lot of long black hair.
This is a great surprise.
The wisdom of the ages
is showing in her eyes.

The world must seem so strange to her.
She’s handling it with aplomb.
She’s stolen all our hearts away,
a beauty like her mom. 

She is less than one day old,
and as I meet her gaze,
I wonder what it would be like
to have no yesterdays.

No sorrows and no sad regrets
and no what might have beens,
only her name upon the page
as her new life begins.



					
For Royal's "Pink Joy" contest


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Dad

In all my years I've never seen 
a face so weathered, yet seldom mean.
A semblance of a younger man
of whom I was the biggest fan.

A tired soul in eyes so hollow,
where he went this kid would follow.
Now he's resting more and moving less.
Is this what's left for God to bless?

Disease and age have beat him down,
yet no one ever sees him frown.
Mortal thoughts creep in as days go by.
What's it really like when we die?

But he won't dwell on that, with time so fleeting,
and his mind still sharp, despite the beating.
No he won't complain, why even bother?
My hero is this wonderful father.


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The Dandelion

The dandelion sat along on the hill 
watching the rose's play.
He asked to join the fun and games;
is it all right if I stay?
The rose's said, you can not play,
for you are not one of us.
Go back to your hill to your grassy clump,
and don't you make a fuss.
For we are tall with our beautiful stems
and nicely shaped leaves.
Our petals are grand,
the best in the land, 
so stay away you weed.
A beautiful flower, tall and grand,
you are, the dandelion sighed.
Your petals are grand, the best in the land,
but i'd rather be pretty inside.
For the rose's and their beauty so grand, 
will fade and wither with time,
but the dandelion's beauty within,
is one thing that will never die. 
:0)


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Candles

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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I love you mama

Many reasons
Have led me to this
To leave this world
Of negative bliss

Boyfriends, who wants them
Parents who fight
To be in my shoes
I will no longer tonight

My diary is written
As to why I must leave
I have felt this for years
As I internally grieve

My i-pod is charged
As I take my last walk
Goodbye grey clouds
I'll miss your thunder talk

I touch the walls
Of buildings I've been in
Leaving my trace
As I graze my skin

Through the park
Where my innocence was taken
By my boyfriend I thought
Left me distraught, forsaken

I reach my last door
Its just a gap in the fence
As I see where I'll lie
My desires immense

On the sleeper I sit
As I await my fate
Say hello to tomorrow
I'm sorry I can't wait

The light gets brighter
As it nears my life's drama
Tears stream from my eyes
I love you mama


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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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Life Unexpected

I sat quietly weeping 
My womb forever sleeping
No baby ever to grow there in.
Doctor says that I am barren.

Years go by I try to cope.
Lovers leave there is no hope.
Strange these flutters in my belly.
Sick so sick, everything is so smelly.

Flutters turn to kicks and wiggles.
Labor pains, and I have the giggles.
Husband standing by my side.
Now four children are my pride.


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TO SHAKESPEARE WITH ADMIRATION

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "


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Who They Are

His innocence lies in the very unknowing
Of what is the truth as he just keeps on growing
He questions the birds in the sky up above
He warms us with laughter and endows us with love
Every question from him is so serious, yet
I have to laugh, from the look that he gets
He’s often a handful, but with a heart that’s so wide
As he often states feelings that he just cannot hide

She is his sister; she’s a bit stronger and taller
Which makes him seem younger, just so much smaller
There in her heart, she, too, has her ways
Of giving us sunshine on the darkest of days
She’s dramatic and active, an athlete to boot
She’s the younger of my girls, who’s so very cute
She’s willful, demanding, but yet can be coy
She’s a blessing from above, an angel of joy

There, even older, another girl blessed us so
It’s been fun watching her age, fun watching her grow
She’s not yet an adult, but seems to just know it all
I hope in her assumptions, she never suffers a fall.
However, she my daughter and a real beauty at that
Who often asks us parents if her clothes make her fat
I guess it’s her age, but that’s the norm for these girls
I’ll love her like my baby girl, as she outgrows her curls

Then there’s the man, my oldest boy, he’s so wise
He grew up so fast, right before our very eyes
He’s sensitive and caring, so smart, gives respect
He’ll be quite the man, very successful I just bet
Though, he too, is a teen and subject to the pressure
He still does so much to which others don’t measure
He rounds off the family, he, my oldest boy
As all of them, together, bring just so much joy


Details | Quatrain | |

Women

You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life


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The Mighty Kern (The end of many dreams)

You’re not real deep as rivers go
You’re really not that wide
When it comes to my feelings of you
They’re feelings I just can’t hide

Through giant boulders you descend 
Winding through canyon walls
Inside you many have met their end
As rapidly as your water falls

Merle Haggard wrote a song of you
You took someone he loved
His song is very beautiful and true
A gift from God above

At four I stood upon your banks
Watched my mother die
Like those before and after her
So many left to cry

Your pools are pools of death
Calm and still they seem
Whirlpools lurking underneath
The end of many dreams


For Brian's contest
 


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Family Heirlooms



Family heirlooms

Some collect old art pieces, jewelry or photos.
Others, end tables, organ benches, or beds
If it belonged to Grandma or Grandpa it’s a keeper.
Especially fancy needlework and piecework spreads.

And if it belonged to way-back generations,
Better hide it from inquiring siblings.
Like an antique trunk full of precious junk,
Be ready for some serious quibbling.

An agate marble with variegated colors,
A bone handled knife with Grandpa’s carved notch,
Grandma’s wedding ring many memories bring,
As does Uncle Henry’s gold pocket watch.

Many collectibles and few places to keep them.
We hold on tightly like a determined fanatic.
If embedded memories bring such pleasure to treasures
Why do they inevitably drift to the garage or attic?