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Quatrain Mother Poems | Quatrain Poems About Mother

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

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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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Ode to a rose on a sunset

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as the clouds dip into the sea.
A kiss from that rose as the waves fall,
over the beach to a rose kissed me.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as we wrap in lovers embrace.
A kiss from a rose as homeward we go,
to a bed clothed in satin and lace.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
with passion and warmth do we grasp.
A kiss from that rose that blossoms and blooms,
my hand in her labour pain clasp.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
that wanton and curvy young bride.
A kiss from that rose that huddles our babe,
so loving, in motherly pride.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
without whom I'd not share my life.
A kiss from that rose who selflessly filled,
the place of my darling rose wife!

(c) anaisanais - A M Docherty - Wales, United Kingdom. (7/8/2013)


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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 
always...


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A Dark Tale

I laugh as I think of it now, the dire warnings of hell
Nothing could scare me it didn’t matter, on this teaching I never did dwell.
I wondered why one dark night, again begging for sleep.
No fear of death of dying no foolish promises to keep.

It was then I found the answer as I slipped down through the floor
Could this be a dream or am I now no more.
Has death come upon me, I feel the air exude from my chest
Through eons of time yet seconds, maybe days or years at best.

Before me an evil thing but there are no brimstone and flames
“Now we will see this hell you mocked and you will know my name.
You never flinched about the hell threat but you are now here
Not only that I am your father and now you will know real fear.”

He breathed in deep; my skin scorched, it left my body in one piece
The agonies, I must be dead my skin floating in front just like a fleece
My muscles sinews and skeleton were all that I now had
“I thought you were my father I screamed you can’t treat me this bad.”

A thousand legions of devils all came round mocking me
Each breath they turned my way seemed to rip parts off of me
“You will learn to master them but until then you have to pay
You start at the bottom in this work.” then the hounds of hell did bay.

“To inflict the tortures required to give me the satisfaction
You must first suffer them all, that is my attraction.
When you have suffered them all you will know what to do
My work will be in your hands this is my legacy to you.”

“But how can you be my father?” I screamed as the hell hounds tore at me
“My mother was the sweetest woman on earth and all around could see.”
“Ha! I am the devil why would I want a whore,
 They are already down here; it was sweetness I searched for.”

“Your mother scorned me, she did not believe in all the hellish games I play
So I showed her my powers and you are with me from this day.
You should have listened to the teachers teaching of my home called hell.”
He waved his finger at me and the screams I could not quell.

Now I wish I had listened and taken an earthly fear
It could have made a difference, I may not now be here.
I take delight in dismembering and gouging out the eyes
Flaying the skin off the ungodly, yet I do it for a prize.

One day I will rule this place then my turn will come
I’ll leave this underworld one day and do what my father has done
I’ll take a woman for my wife the sweetest there ever walked
And pass on my inheritance to the offspring that hell balked.
©~GG~23/07/2012

 


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Mama's Cleaning

That was the day we played all day outside
And ride imaginary stick horses around 
Shooting and shouting as if our lungs was rawhide
It was in imagination that the fun abound
That was the day the house seemed in disrepair
Furniture and boxes all out of place
Chaos reigned while mama cleaned everywhere
Leaving germ and dirt without a trace.

I thought of mama today as I watched you clean
Remembered how we would wipe our foot
On the little mat, but mostly could not dare go in
As if we were the grime or the cause of soot
Food would only come when mama took a break
But not before dark and howling belly turned
Play into night, and after the yard was swept and raked
Something about you in mama I'd discerned.

What was all that cleaning just to be clean, I ask
Or was it a search for something missing here
What deeper motive had the highly honored task
What coin, or sheep, or son hid behind the tear
What golden fleece or grail to you both have been lost
I know mama cleaning searched for meaning here
As if sin was something we could see like life's dross
As if to seek was the magic bullet for man's despair.

O something about you remind me of mama, my dear
And childhood comes rushing back in floods
Two sparse rooms and five pieces of furniture there
While we chased butterflies from dying buds
You are different though, for you have allowed us in
Watching our eyes to tell you of missing spots
But we just laugh and tell long tales while you clean
Life is too short to search or go connecting dots.


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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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My Mom

She's the sparkle on the ocean 
in the sunny summer's light
She's the diamonds on the snow 
on a moonlit winter's night

She's the calm of the morning 
before the world has come alight
She's as gentle as a breeze 
on the quiet beach at night

She's the backbone of our family 
for as far back as I recall
She's always patient, always cares 
and always loves, most of all

She's so strong in her beliefs 
as she's taught her girls to be
She's tough when there's a need 
but it's gentleness I see

She always wears a smile 
as though nothing makes her mad
She has a special giggle 
how can anyone stay sad?

She's the closest thing to perfect 
that I will ever see
If I live to be a hundred 
I will never be like "SHE"

 


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Thumbelina

Once held with love, by hands so small-
You’d hardly know that they were mine;
Her hair, a matted yellow mess
That sticks strait up, from hands and time,

The dress, Aunt Rose knit with gnarled hands,
Still ties up proper in the back,
It hides her scars; so much undone
While keeping dignity in tact,

One of her fingers’ is too short
When I was small, I bit it off;
Her neck’s been stretched from need and love
Which now I hide with velvet cloth,

Her eyes, the same sky blue as hers-
A mother ripped from life and earth-
Who passed away, leaving her child
One blue-eyed doll and no self worth…

Many a year flew by in time-
An adult with kids of my own-
When our house burned, consuming all,
From photos to refuge of home,

There came from ashes, hope reborn-
A beauty with eyes of sky blue,
Covered in suet, fire-scarred but safe,
The only thing that made it through!

A miracle or mothers hand,
That saved her from the fire's embrace?
To place her safe with honor, down
Atop the snow to cool her face,

This doll may look a ragged mess
To those whose tears she hasn't dried,
But when I look in those blue eyes
I see a child’s love, survived…

My Thumbelina, dread locked doll
No other friend could e’er replace
Her love; I love her battle scars,
Where memory lives upon her face…





2nd place winner in Karen Neary's TRASH or TREASURE contest , 5/2008


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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

Compassionate lovely siren
You didn't keep your silence
Words you utter -  timeless
To you my greatest reliance

Your love as huge as a giant
As your heart immensely pliant
Needless more to secure a license
Evermore you're my loyal alliance

More than a systematic science
Greater than a credible titan
Guarding me not to be frightened
Always my ways you enlightened

More than these
More than a diamond, 
That's how you are 'MA
My dearest Mama
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY.. :)


(c) OLIVE ELOISA
MaY 11, 2014
2:12 AM

DEDICATED TO ALL MOMS.. specially to my MAMA: OLIVIA DOMINCEL GUILLERMO


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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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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 Dogwood Tree


"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature"
 byWilliam Shakespeare, 1601

Come spring, in the shaded forests near my home 
Blooms the elegant and lovely dogwood tree
In a bit of sunshine it spreads its graceful arms
As if to offer each blossom for God to see...

White velvet petals tipped by the palest pink
Simplicity strung along each swaying branch
No need to boast about its reign of beauty
This spring picture it surely does enhance...

My mother loved the pretty dogwood trees
We'd often stop to enjoy their brief  display
I think of her each time I see them flower
These beauties that would so enrich her day...


Barbara Gorelick 4/20/2011
For  THE TREE contest, hosted by Constance~ a rambling poet~


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The River Gomati-win

O grandma *Gomati, was born on thy bank
And born of a mother bearing your name
On all the yesterdays your water I drank
Am still the part of your pattern and frame.

My blood flows in thy stream meandering
It’s a kind of earthly immortality,
I stand by you and feel kinship endearing
Know not much about gods but your affinity

I learnt to strive, to sink and to seek depth ever
Simply Hydrogen and Oxygen doesn’t make water
Something third is needed to make you what you’re
Nobody knows except you Ma and your Creator.

                             *******
Dr. Ram Mehta
June29, 2011

Twelwth Place win in

Contest: best dedication poem by P.D.

=================================

*Gomati is the name of the river in Gujarat State of India. My home town Dwarka 
where Lord Krishna ruled once, is on the bank of River Gomati. 

My mother too was born there and she was christened as Gomati after the name of the river.

Please click on the links below to see the pictures of River Gomati and the town Dwarka 
==================================================
Copy and paste the links below to see pictures:( Please share it on my blog if this doesn't work)

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--
mnJsfgKoNc/TgpR_pUcaGI/AAAAAAAAAWY/r3OxvDhVhlU/s1600/Gomti+River+for+PS.jp
g 
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-
urY7xEhqWe4/TgpSDtfX4OI/AAAAAAAAAWc/g63z_gsliPA/s1600/Dwarka+with+Gomati+
Ghat.jpg
=================================


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A Mother's Son......For Dustin Cunningham

A smile that warms her heart.
 With bright, shining Angel eyes.
Soon his whole world would fall apart.
 When he sadly watched as his Mother dies.

No one to listen or believe what he saw.
 For years the truth lie in wait.
Each passing day, the pain made him raw.
 And for his step-dad rose a new level of hate.

A troubled youth is what he'd come to be.
 Violence, drugs and alcohol to deal with the pain.
When the truth came out it didn't set him free.
 Watching for Santa as his Mother was slain.

After years, Justice was served for his Mother's death.
 But her kids would have no justice at all.
They would never hold her again so they remained bereft.
 She'll never be there for them to hug, kiss or call.

She loved her kids, especially her eldest son.
 She was taken too soon by a drunk, selfish bully.
He didn't care who he hurt or what he did to anyone.
 Its not something her children could understand fully.

Her son now sits in his own personal Hell.
 Taken away from society to pay for his unrelated crimes.
So now he stays in that six by six prison cell.
 Hoping that he'll heal in a matter of time.

I'm here for him and I remain his friend.
 I wait for that shine to return to his now haunted eyes.
For that smile to brighten from his sad, dull grin.
 I'm someone who can love him and quiet his cries.


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Mother in Law Farts

There’s nothing like a mother in law.
My mother in law is quite a trip.
Every time she gets up from a chair 
she has to let one rip.

I mean, you will never participate
in a fart like one of these.
You know without a doubt 
who cracked that awful cheese.

She just fans it and goes her way.
Just as sassy as your please,
as if it wasn’t her that 
stirred that awful breeze.

I thought I would shame her once 
and cut her to the floor.
She just laughed and hiked that hip
and gave me one or two more.

And as the green fog raised the roof
I gagged, rubbing my eyes and swore,
Mom, you’re the champ, I can’t beat
that hole you just blew through the door. 

© Jun 7 2011 Charles Henderson
For Brian's 2,4,6, or 8 line form contest
    


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Grandma's Bench



Each day her world was getting smaller
But still to this bench she made her way
To enjoy the park, the pond, and the ducks
and watch young children that came to play

Her bench became a gathering place
Life stories told and babies kissed
They all enjoyed her wise company
Her sweet face will sorely be missed.

They still gather at that bench
And daily life goes on as before
But they still remember "grandma"
A lady they had come to adore...




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From the cradle to the grave

I wish to leave a legacy, 
A memory of me
I wish to leave a legacy,
Something my mother left for me

Death took my mother when I was three
So all she left was what she taught me
So as I sit and sew, I see
My mother looking down on me

Her hands guide my fingers as I make
A cradle for my daughter to take
For all the children that follow in her wake
Will rest in peace and sleep till daybreak

Surrounded by love for “oma’s” sake
For each child anew a small remake
Will forever preserve this family keepsake
And I will be there forever to partake

As each new child lies cradled here
All the ancestors will be near
To bestow their love and guidance clear
On the newborn and his parents dear

While we support there is no fear
Because the child will always hear
The sounds of love sincere
And know his family is near


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For Goodness Sake

It comes and goes in bits of flow,

yet where it goes I do not know.

The in between is hard to take.

I pause and think, for goodness sake.


Someone so nice beside my bed,

a hand, a touch to my white head.

She smiles for me each time I wake.

I pause and think for goodness sake.


Then through the veil my love returns.

It pains me so you voice concerns.

Your eyes so sad my voice soon breaks.

I pause and think for goodness sake.


Then off she goes her tears well hid.

Soon back again if I should bid.

I love you mom, her voice will shake.

I pause and think for goodness sake.


In honor of my wife for the attention she 
gave her mom those last few months.

© May 2011 - - Iambic tetrameter- -cgh


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Forever Mine

I was so blessed to be the mother of three,
in less than four years from oldest to last.
The love I felt for them was fierce and protective,
my only regret that they grew up too fast.

When they were little, I thought that forever
they would be mine to love and to hold.
I viewed them as treasures and wouldn’t have traded
for diamonds or rubies or mountains of gold.

As they grew older, I knew I must loosen
the ties that had bound them to my very soul.
They needed to grow and to find their own persons.
Each one had the right to set his or her goal.

If there were troubles, I do not remember.
In memory those years brought me nothing but joy.
If I could go back now to when they were children,
I’d go in a flash to my two girls and my boy.

But I couldn’t be prouder of the children I raised
and the parents in kind they have turned out to be.
They have given me grandchildren to love and to hold
just as I did once with my own precious three.

My son died too early and I was heart- broken
but the love that we had for each other sustains.
The love and the pride that I had while I had him
is worth all the sorrow and relieves the pain.

Somehow my daughters have turned things around.
They act more the parents and I am their child.
They worry and fuss and spoil me completely. 
I know I’m a mother on whom fate has smiled. 

Won no. 4


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The Building of a Moment

The value of a precious novelty
it seems is intricate fragility.
Recall special trinkets kept in a hutch
for display only, not opened to touch.

Keepsakes in prison, upheld, unimpaired.
reminder of events  that once were shared.
One is now kept in a glass étagère
collectible curio set there with care.

Awaiting the finding of a misplaced key,
a new piece tempted curiosity.
Too precious to be ignored, my granddaughter
played with it carefully, warned by her mother.

Rejecting caution, which kids oft ignore
she forgot it, leaving it there on the floor.
The next day, her brother found it with his foot.
One piece now  three pieces, broken,  kaput.

Comes precious moment, happening on my watch.
Crying sister faults her brother for her botch
who then returns accusations with blame.
Common occurrence, accompanied by shame.
 
Moment develops as we find the glue.
Are there chips still missing?  We find a few.
Together,  three of us talk as we work.
Accountability comes with its perks.

The most precious of moments in history -
when that collectible met surgery.
Years later it stands tall, gathering dust
priceless symbol of joint effort and fuss.


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Grandma's Legacy

My grandma had a green thumb
She loved to garden, plant and grow
Didn't matter where they're from
Snatching cuttings wherever she'd go

Her pockets filled with seeds from trips to and fro
Labeling the envelops with names as she was home
Plant variety was something she would know
She also knew specific times when seeds should be sown

Her garden was her solace throughout her hardened life
She planted seeds and grew her plants anywhere she stay
Always fed her family through depression and strife
Many rows of vegetables were planted in her day

Years have passed and she is gone her love of planting seeds
Was passed on through her family who now are pulling weeds. 

Jennifer Marie Oliver


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The Birth Of A Girl The Birth Of A Boy

In a forest a girl was born   
A girl born oh so poor
This girl then caused this world now torn
Her birth opens a sore

But we do not now this girl mourn
She was left some money
A thrifty woman not to scorn
Then a taste of honey

She met a man she was forlorn
Bore a son Alois
Unwed and aging, no ring worn
No ring, so still a Miss.

Her bastard son none could be warned
When his mother did wed
He gave a name the world did scorn
A name that all wished dead

If his mother knew what was born
Hitler the name we know
I wonder would she have  been torn?
To give him birth, or no.

© 09/01/2013 ~GG~

Contest Entry.


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WAITING FOR GOD

WAITING FOR GOD At four score years and ten Our Gran is physically spry But her mind is beginning to wander And I often ask God, "Why?" She's a most delightful lady With smooth, porcelain-like skin She loves her large family And has the most wicked of grins. But her mind is beginning to wander And she's now starting to live in the past It's hard for her to remember Who's who at the family repasts. She loves to be among the children But she doesn't know who they all are Not only is her mind beginning to wander She's now taken to walking afar. One day we couldn't locate her We walked twice around the block We had to call in the police It gave us all such a shock. We found her sitting at the bus stop It really was quite odd We asked her what she was doing She answered, smiling sweetly, "Waiting for God." © ELR 2013


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The Echo of a Soul

The Echo of a Soul 
By Andrew Weeden 

In the windswept hills of vibrant green, 
Here I sit at your lonely grave. 
The bright flower that made my heart beam, 
Is the wilted flower I could not save.  

From the beginning I did not know, 
I was oblivious from the start; 
Cancer’s blade cut away your happy glow 
And would thrust to pierce my very heart.  
 
Consumed in the darkness of raging anger, 
Ten years I stand alone in the rain. 
With death no longer a distant stranger; 
My only companion in the storm of pain.  

Now it seems no one remembers, 
But you did not cease to be. 
Your spirit still burns in glowing embers 
And lives inside the fire in me.  

The storm is passing; I finally see its end. 
Happiness smiles again and shakes me to my core.  
I realize every time I lift my pen 
My Grandma speaks once more! 

Reflections of your love 
Weave tapestries in time. 
As a singing mourning dove, 
Your words whisper in my mind. 

So though you had to go, 
You remain in your begotten; 
As an echo of a soul, 
Gone but not forgotten. 


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Who Murdered the Easter Bunny

Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.

Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.

“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?

No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.

Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.

Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey


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Superstitions for the Feeble-Minded

Don’t say that, you better knock on wood
It’s bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
Don’t you know any better? Karma and jinxing are real
Hey! And get off that crack, you’ll break your mama’s back

It’s not so bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
For those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
Hey! I’m glad to see you’re standing on that crack.
By the way send your dear mother my sincerest regards

And for those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
You should lasso the words escaping your mouth
Send your dear mother my sincerest regards
Just tell her I said it must blow having a child like you

You should hog tie those words before they escape your mouth
Sticks and stones could break bones, words, well they just sting
It must blow for your mom having such a shitty child, sting!
Sorry for the news flash but nobody likes you

Sticks and stones will break your bones, words just tingle
Oh you didn’t know any better?  Karma and Jinxing are real
News flash! The world is better off without the likes of you
That’s why you shouldn’t say that, did you knock on wood yet?


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Redeye Gravy

Now sits the redeye gravy in the pan
It certainly is not at all like jam
Mom made it years ago  for her man
Fry some country ham, pour  coffee bam

Never knew why it was called redeye
Then my grandson informed me just why
Men who had been out late had bleareye
Who looked like they had been drip-dry

I always thought that it was because
It had dark red color from drippings
In my home it  got an applause
I thought that it was God's blessings

I learned my husband doesn't like it
My grandson doesn't like redeye gravy
When I make it only make a bit
Always redeye gravy left heavy

Today decided to place on grits
Feed to the cats see if they like it
Now cat is running around won't sit
I guess that caffeine gave them lift


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PLAINLY SPEAKING

Certain things are just not said,
When we're in certain comp'ny.
Words and phrases seldom heard,
Are often looked at funny.

No longer is good common sense,
The rule of thumb, the norm,
So often plainly spoken words,
Will take on different form;

'Cause most folks just don't listen,
To what is being said,
And oft the words go rattling 'round.
Inside an empty head;

Then they draw their own conclusions,
Concerning what you said,
Even though they've not a clue,
The story they will spread.

If what you hear sounds strange to you,
The facts a little off,
Consider who you're talking to,
Before you laugh and scoff,

At someone you may barely know,
If in fact at all,
And what you heard is hearsay,
Just gossip all in all.

When others speak, just listen,
And make sure you understand.
Keep your mind upon the topic,
Don't short change your fellow man.

Remember to speak plainly,
Not to be misunderstood,
And remember too that gossip,
Don't do anybody good.


(Have you ever noticed that those who talk the most are usually the ones who have little else to do?  And often they really don't know much more than we do. My grandmother used to say the dog on the shortest chain does the most barking.)


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Song To Mother Earth

Mother Earth spinning on your centre
while revolving around Father Sun
making day and night on your surface
and the different seasons every one  

Your flesh provides the vital substance
on which trees, plants and grasses feed
and become food for birds and animals
who partake of them as they need

Some of those birds and animals 
feed others higher in the food chain
and become part of the eco cycle
which continues full circle again

All living things decay when they die
and return to you dearest mother 
to become substance that feeds plant life
and start off a new eco chapter 

Rain and snow from the sky bring water
that feeds the lakes, seas and rivers
which have a food chain of their own
among all their different creatures

Water from the sea becomes vapour
and rises as a cloud formation 
which precipitates as rain and snow
and water after condensation

Sun and Earth combine in harmony
doing so since before our birth
Thank you for feeding all living things
Our dearest blessed Mother Earth


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My Life at Fourteen

I'm just fourteen years old, and a father I'll be
Around Christmas time, what a present for me
The excitment of puberty has now taken it's toll
I sit here lost in thoughts, a worried young soul

Responsibilities I now face to the challenges of life
Do I stand by my girlfriend, do I make her my wife
What if I can't cope, shunned by family and friends
To become another statistic, modern societies trend

I find myself very fortunate, I'm surrounded by kin
Whom their patience has been a blessing as I take it all in
My friends have rallied round, their support has been strong
It's having people like them, I'm fortunate to belong

December has come and gone, my daughters getting married
As I look back to fourteen and the trials that I carried
Many thoughts I had to ponder as I look back at my young life
The young girl whom bore my daughter, many years has been my wife



* Three-quarters of a million teens between 15 and 19 become pregnant each year in the USA *


For Gwendolen's *~* Mom, I'M PREGNANT! contest *~*


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Time

They say that time heals all
Yet there never seems enough
To say the words, to give your love
A mother always dies too soon

You try to make it linger
As her age increases yearly
You pray that God will spare her
Because you love her dearly

But when the days get tedious
She’s sick, alone and weary
You pray that God may take her
Because you love her dearly

Mother, we will miss you,
Your love, your care and support
You have given us your all
And triumphantly defied life’s challenges

You were so busy caring for others 
That you forgot about yourself
In honour and in gratefulness, we say
Sweet mother, dearest oma*, may you rest in peace

Rest peacefully now your time has come 
May angels guide your way
The time has come...yet 'tis oh so hard
To see you on your way

*Oma is dutch for Grandmother


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Son, I know you by heart


My memory fades like an early morning fog
But you my son I know by heart
The impossible miles you alone have trod
An uphill climb from first breaths start

Fluid filled those vacant places 
Where only your brain should have claimed
Of a viable life the prediction was traces
For a life that would be horribly lame

Those Doctors didn't conceive you
You were mine from beginning to end
I said "he's my son not a knot to undo
When termination was suggested and penned

I loved you then and I know you now
Every obstacle you've overcome
A 3.7 GPA you've made it to manhood somehow
I knew to that prognosis you would never succumb 

Of every therapy under the sun
You would never quit or complain
Though your struggles were bitter and stung
You took pride in the promise of your name

Josiah - Healed by God - 
A humble man in the kingdom of men
Now I see you promised to a beauty
The wife I hoped for you then

Soon your quest to be a teacher
When you've earned your final degrees
In the eyes of our future you'll be a leader
The proof of what belief can achieve

Your spirit is tenderness
Your ways are sweet
You abound in being real and generous
And acquire the love of all that you meet

My son with eyes filled of turquoise and brown
Know this... if my memory entirely in time depart
My pride in you will forbear my lips to frown
For my son, I know you by heart! 













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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












http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-5.php



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MY MOTHER-IN-LAW

MY MOTHER-IN-LAW My mother-in-law is a wonderful lady, So bright and so active, going on seventy-four, Still riding a snowmobile, she loves that white stuff, When the trails are all packed she heads out the door. Eleven snowmobile clubs she administrates, Though the paperwork can be a bore. She'd much rather be out on the trail And driving it daily at, oh, eighty-four. Her family's important - our matriarch is she. She looks after us all, in good times and bad, And runs hither and yon to lend us a hand. She listens without judgement, for this we are glad. By now you have guessed I admire this kind woman, She's always so chirpy, 'round the house she does hum, And she tends a fine garden, all colourful and shady. I love this dear lady - I just call her Mum. c ELR 2013


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A LETTER TO MOM

A Mother's Love Is Home Made

This is just a note to say,
How much you mean to me.
How special are my thoughts of you,
How much you'll always be,

A very special part of me,
A warm spot in my heart,
And though you're years and miles away,
We're really not apart;

And though the road I walk be long,
With many twists and turns,
Your memory will light my days,
As though a candle burns,

Within my heart dispelling gloom,
Encouraging my spirit,
Enabling hope to come again,
With sweet words of endearment.

                                         Judy Ball


For Mother Contest by Constance LaFrance


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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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The best investment I ever made

My son upon this Christmas Eve 
I reminisce of midnight hours
Your fingers dancing over tenuous keys
And the emotions your talent empowers

I couldn't comprehend how you taught yourself to play 
Or just how this symphony of one became 
The songs you have inside of you like heaven on display
I revel in your poignant craft uniquely unprofaned

It's true that your propensity 
Can lean toward darkened depth
A common vein for artists 
To be moody and depressed

For your pain releases beauty 
by your gift it's voice relates
You know your in the masters company 
of Mozart, Bach, and Hemingway

So when your struggles weigh 
As the sea laden oceans sand
Take your seat and breathe
Stretch out your feral hands

Creating an instrumental euphoria 
For the lonely and the damned
Open the gate to moods your feigning
Though others will misunderstand 

Christmas Eve and it's memories
This flashback came my way
Of your very first piano 
The best investment I ever made

But one day when I'm aged and old
It will be you who cares for me
Play for me then on that Christmas Eve 
With your love in every stroke 








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Jars Full of Summer


Marching across my pantry shelf
Jars filled with summer's bounty sweet
Jams and jellies, and all kinds of fruit
But much more than just a savory treat 

The effort to reap nature's gifts
Something so satisfying for me
Appreciating all the earth gives
Food and satisfaction, nearly free



1/18/12


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That which destroy kings

Sampson’s Destiny was on a divine construction
Until a conniving Delilah brought him to destruction
A ‘Chick’ nearly destroyed David’s Kingdom
His son followed and defiled his wisdom

‘Cause of a whore Julius Caesar suffered ignominy
Mac Anthony was seduced and destroyed by a ‘ chick in mini’
Women in their twilight have destroyed many rulers
Women of easy virtue have ruined many Leaders

The hand that spread the bed felled a mighty-nation
Yea! That crafty heart has cast down a generation
She has slain many strong men, upon them she cast a spell
Her home is the broad way to hell

Young man! Be thou vigilant against this dangerous threat
Young man! Mummy warn thee of that ‘chick’ called Annette
If this virus can ravage ‘Giftedly Anointed’ men
Then common men, thou not skirt a whore’s den

Young man restrain thy Sexual Power!
Young woman control thy Sexual Power!
Restrain thy sexual drive for a righteous course
Look to Christ, He is thy strength and source

Consider the Son of Man! Who was never moved by evil
Consider the Son of Man! Who was never moved by the devil
David wrote of such an obedient Son
One more glorious than the noon day sun

“He shall be as the light of the morning
Springing out of the earth by shining”
He was moved by Eternal Affection
He was tempted yet lived a life of Perfection

Do not give your strength to women, Nor that which destroy kings- Proverbs 31:3[NKJV]


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free cee CURSED IF NOT TAKEN FIRST dedicated to my mom who left me 18 months ago

CURSED IF NOT TAKEN FIRST

‘Tis this stand I and swear to thee
Before she goes Lord please take me
That these eyes of mine born of blue
Not see the day when I curse you

She may not want now to stay
But first, beg I, take me away
Wherever bound that I may be
Please my Lord, first take me

Spare me the loss of a woman whose inner beauty shone
A lady unlike most or many grown
Forgiveness was her credo known
And pray thee I……..leave me not alone

Please cause not a rift far too wide
That my disdain shall not abide
My soul seeks solace by you, my Lord
But losing her is a price I cannot afford

So raise not an anger within me
That her son’s belief no longer be
So before her death be your decree
Please, my Lord, first take me
© 2012  copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
(words written in honor of a woman, my mom, Mrs. Rita Cohan, whose grace preceded her, and whose kindness was widely known)



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Loves Beyond 2010

It was known by the way that he treated her and she treated him.
Happiness repeated daily, over and over again.
Two eyes, opened by realization and soon, marriage followed.
Is that not a great place for a true love story to begin?

You bring a boy into the world; teach him about right choices.
Praise him for his goodly ways and expect him to do his best.
Surround his world with virtuous visionaries and voices.
Watch him grow into a man who too soon empties mama’s nest.

Founded upon strength and wisdom, he faces the worldly world.
Quietly, patiently, faithfully, he finds his way in life.
Dreams, desires, and goals fall into place; then, love is unfurled.
Life becomes enchanted, like a fantasy; he finds his wife.

Swept away from life’s present to a new place so far away.
Two young lovers, husband and wife, promised to one another,
Fly away on the wings of love singing a new song; their song.
Both taking with them, a lifetime of loves from each one’s mother.

Through the tears of fears, loves, loss and joy, apron strings are untied.
Two wide-eyed young adults fly into the sunrise, she with him.
Knowing that mothers back home send love to them that will abide.
Loves like those, grow everlastingly, beyond 2010!

©  December 22, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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A Note Left Behind (to a Son)

I was born underwater with lungs oversized,
With gills immature in a world full of smog,
I'm filling petition to be cauterized,
And end other chapter in life’s fragile log.

I was born black and white with extremities gray,
The plaintiff accuses what I might hide,
It's nothing but SOUL constantly at play,
With spoonfuls of turquoise rolling down off life's slide...

Implosion of rainbows will probably be
The cause of my passing unknown and alone.
When thrown overboard and deep into sea
I'll finally return to my home long time gone...

I've moved in a place with no windowless chamber,
Where time has no meaning and waiting is painless,
If I had any hopes, I swear - don't remember...
And don't recognize him, his sorrow is senseless.

I have died underwater, reborn in blue nights,
Don't need oxygen to play with the whales.
Remember when watching those great Northern Lights
That Mother is smiling behind Nature’s veils.


for Constances contest "Mother"


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Safe

It's like a weight lifted off of my heart;
I am no longer torn apart.
Thank God you are safe;
Everything is okay.


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CLEAN UNDERWEAR

CLEAN UNDERWEAR My dearest mother was a nag Tho' her heart was in the right place She washed and ironed and fed us But was always in our face. As I headed out the door My pack strapped to my rear She shouted from the upstairs floor "Be sure to wear clean underwear!" It was her daily, nagging howl Oh man, I thought, here we go again "Holy cow, what for?" I yell at her and scowl I don't wait for her reply - I know it's that damn train c ELR 2013


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Wisdom

Should I slice it length ways or width-ways Which way will be the best To give each one a half So from their arms the child wrest They claim they are the mother But each one cannot be I wish I had the given by god knowledge To make the decision that needs to be Solomon must have prayed for The wisdom needed back then To give the child to the rightful mother And not the spiteful hurting harridan How he knew just what to Was inspired of god He knew the real mother would acquiesce When confronted with the cutting job How I wish to be like just like him To make decisions and see the sense But not only that I’d like The wisdom to know the difference.
Mandy Tams:entry into the Serenity Response Competition "Wisdom to know the difference"


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More Agony

My friend I want you to know
 That happy for you I am
As before the coming snow
 You will have a baby in a pram.

Your shower today was nice
 I thought I could handle it.
But my heart is not ice
 For jeaousy I feel this I admit.

I feel like a loon
 My babies gone
No lullabies to croon
 No being woke at dawn.

I thought I could handle this
 Be here for my dear friend
But there is gaping abyss
 And I do not want to offend.

This your day to shine
 And do well to not frown
And to not even let out a whine
 Though in sorrow I drown.

I leave the shower
 My wounds to lick.
In my own space cower
 Pain in my heart does stick.

I am now alone 
 I lay here and cry.
In agony I moan
 And in misery I sigh.

I really am a lousy friend.
 For how can I feel sad?
How can I make amends
 and tell you why I am bad?

No more baby showers for me
 I cannot do this
To much pain for this to be
 For me there is no bliss.

My arms do so ache
 For the babies that are mine.
How much more pain can I take?
 How much longer will I pine?

Can anyone understand
 What I truly am?
A mother in no man's land
 Whose tears have broke the dam.

A mother who misses 
 Her children each day.
I miss thier kisses,
 Their bedlam and fun way.

Why can I not heal?
 Why must agony sear
And my fate and theirs seal
 For this I do fear.

I thought I was doing good
 But as you can see
This pain gets me where I stood
 And still gets the best of me.


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Suzie's Easter Adventure

There once was a gray cottontail rabbit.
All of her brothers and sisters were brown.
The gray one, named Suzie, had a habit.
She would hide when the family went to town.

One Sunday they were on their way to church.
All the brothers were clean with white pressed shirts.
But Suzie did her brand new dress besmirch.
Chocolate and yummy nutty filberts -

Come now, my sweet bunnies their mom did call.
It's Easter Sunday, let's be of good cheer.
The babies ran to mom who counted all. 
A perfect celebration please, this year.

But they panicked when they found Suzie gone.
Once again, they went searching everywhere.
They saw Suzie's tail, a pink bow thereon.
She was hopping to a basket with flare!

“Come here, now, Susie rabbit.” Mother called.
But inside the basket were colored eggs.
Thus, Suzie had become very enthralled.
About then Suzie felt some hairy legs.

Giant bunny put his eggs on the ground.
When he saw her, he jumped back pretty quick.
All the while, Mother called her with a frown.
I must be brave, she thought, in a panic.

Her whole family swiftly hopped to her side.
But Easter Bunny picked Suzie up fast.
He stood straight tall with two feet far astride.
Wide-eyed, terrified, Suzie shrieked aghast.

Easter Bunny held Suzie in his lap.
I heard that you hide when you go to town.
You must stop or ensue an evil trap.
Then he hugged her and set sweet Suzie down.

Her mother, brothers, and sisters all sighed.
Alas they were together once again.
They hugged her and loved her; everyone cried.
Then, took Easter eggs to the preacher, Ken.

© February 28, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen


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Mother Earth

I’ve heard people say you are a sentient being
And I’m still deprogramming that Roman Empire nightmare
So tell me Mother Earth how we can begin communication
And in regards to us disillusioned beings, do you even care?

My first instinct is to tell you that I’m sorry
Then I realize that’s my old programming about a judge
My mother would never make me feel I was a mistake
With grace and dignity she would give me time to rise above

With my disconnected delusions, how could I honor you?
And is that what any of this is even about?
With the death of my propaganda which way do I now go?
As an unknowing child I ask, can you help me out?

I can’t believe anything I’ve heard in English these 43 years
So now I’m going over the heads of all authorities
If there’s anyone who wouldn’t lie to me, it’s mother
If I open my heart to you, could you tell me something please?

My precious dog’s recent death and my acknowledgement of her value
Who I love equal to myself with the most tender innocence
This thought now in my head about hierarchies and ridiculous judgments
Perhaps the timing of this lesson is no coincidence?


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A UNIQUE INDIVIDUAL LIVES IN ME

I don't look like anybody else on the planet, you see...
I don't think and write as others do to hide pretense: 
my aspiration is not to be someone else, 
because a unique individual lives in me.


I had lots of friends in my teen years,
sadly, not a true one I could remember today
and that friend I found only in mother not others...
many regrets I have, but that bitterness has faded away.


I learned by watching, pondering, analyzing and comparing
vast differences in character, deed and action...
it was like seeing actors in a drama:  each one expressing
their feelings, expecting a positive reaction.


Sometimes I see myself as a modern philosopher with definite
thoughts on logic and theories...and most certainly
not a Plato, Aristotle or Socrates, and as amazing as they were,
they would criticize and scold me with their harsh words of antiquity.
  

I sympathize with anyone who has suffered a loss:     
it's the humanness that defines and completes me;
I am more patient than anybody who carries his cross, 
because a unique individual lives in me.


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Natalie at 14

Watching her grow and remembering me
As a teen of changeable mood.
Seeing her thrive and thankfully so - yet
As her parent I’ll need to stay shrewd.

From a spiky-haired smiler at 7 months old
To a graceful and slender fourteen.
She has bloomed through the years in so many ways
That even I could have never foreseen.

When I was her age, I thought I was so smart
And, in some ways, l see now I was right.
Now it’s her turn to venture further into the world – 
Face big choices when out of my sight.

True, babies will test you in myriad ways
Utter dependence, refusal to nap….
Dealing with food, diapers, doctors and daycare
Juggling those almost seems like a snap.

For next week, my first baby heads to high school
Whether or not she and I both feel ready.
But I know she’ll do great (even envy her some) 
May she be ever brave, kind and steady.


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Fear Would Come At Lights Out

Remembering once again childhood days
When mother would on warm days let fire die
Maybe she would stop me from my fun play
We would go for that afternoon walk__sigh

Down long road to the branch across the way
With our small pails probably once held lard
Back then everything was fried in that day
We would look for vein of whitewash real hard

After gathering the whitewash head home
Where mother would clean around fireplace hearth
She would remove ashes; set the soft tone
For our home, on her hands_ knees clean no mirth

She would then whitewash the hearth inside rim
Glistening clean white, adding wood stoke fire
It  would crackle send tiny sparks to  swim
Briefly in air like stars of  night  aspire

Gathering around the fire family time
News, stories, tall tales; safe and warm no doubt
Gradually  fire would die into bed climb
Fear would come for daddy would say lights out


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Living with Mother Nature's Bruise

We turned to each other when we heard on the news
Our daughters place of work, enduring mother nature's bruise
She worked on an island now swamped with wrath
To her we now travel to retrace her last path

To go there blind never knowing if she breathes
Thoughts think the worst as we subconsciously grieve
Our daughter, our life, as we make plans to depart
Facing hours of torment as our minds tear apart

To this island we head where she enjoys life to the full
Thinking back to her young years, learning in school
This paradise as she calls it, in the Indian Ocean
Our minds picture, her love to live notions

We step of the plane into a world far from home
Praying we find her, dead or alive, to never roam
To the north of the island, Aceh is it's name
Is this where we find her, with no one to blame

We reach the village, it's where our daughter calls home
Teaching the youngsters English along the beaches they combed
We wander dazed and confused, joining the crying and the grieving
Emotional rescuers surround us, they just keep on believing

Hand in hand we stare hoping, as our eyes glimpse the lost
Our daughters not there, as we join the emotional exhaust
Suddenly I feel a tugging on my sleeve
Lady lady, you my teachers mama, come with me please

Looking down, my eyes cascading with tears
A beautiful young girl, momentarily relieving my fears
Lady lady, please please, come with me please
To a makeshift hospital she takes us, our hearts so in unease

To a door we arrive, she cries, mama's teacher mama's teacher
As she is led away by the hospital preacher
We are greeted by a doctor, taken through corridors of death
The relieving earlier felt, now replaced by inner reft

The stench of death drifts, lost souls we feel crying
Resonating sounds echo, the last breaths of the dying
Cubicle after cubicle, every curtain our hearts run
In broken English, is she the one, is she the one

The second curtain from the last, the doctor once again opens
Despair and tears increase, parents lost in their hoping
Before us lies, a broken twisted bandaged soul
The tattoo on her ankle, I cry Nicole, it's our Nicole

Engulfed with emotions our cheeks streaming with tears
Viewing the earlier posters, parents losing their fears
Living this moment, realising their daughter has lived
As we look back to the pictures, knowing families are sieved

Words we will remember until the day we are gone
That moment we heard, is she the one, is she the one


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Letter to Mum and Dad

Letter to Mum and Dad

Dear Mum, Dear Dad, you're gone from my life.
I remember you now as a good husband and wife.
Dad, I saw you lay there. Lifeless, quite still.
The shocks that they gave you, zapped at my will.

When I touched you, your body, still warm, lips blue.
A far cry from the father, the man I once knew.
Your cheeks in contrast, stood out, quite bold.
Your hand I touched. That memory I hold.

Mum, I never saw you, when you passed away.
You were alone in your bed, so it's for you that I pray.
I remember you most, for the love that you gave me.
Always caring, never judging, I wished I could save thee.

Now that you're gone, I don't feel alone.
You're the best parents in life, this child could have known.
So it's with you in memory, my life has begun.
I remain as always, your ever loving son.


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I SAW MY MOTHER

I saw my mother yesterday;
Or so it would appear.
she stood there looking back at me,
Come back through many years.

Her eyes, her mouth, her silver hair,
It all was just the same.
I stood there staring, open mouthed,
Could hear her call my name.

I could not believe my eyes.
Oh No! How could this be?!
I peered at her, she peered at me,
And then we both did smile;
For as she stood there looking back,
I found I have her smile.


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The UFO at Cary Forest

Nestled among the trees in a primitive campsite,
A cub scout and his mother were on their third camp-out.
The tent was pitched; double foil wrapped food was cooked just right.
The young campfire cook gave his skills a great workout.

In the past they had stayed there several days at a time.
Driving through the forest just the mom and her young boy.
Thinking about those days brings back memories sublime.
It was a lot of work, but brought them so much joy.

Nights were spent listening to the serenading bullfrog.
At dawn, she photographed wildlife while he made bird-calls.
One morning when they came around the bend in the fog,
A long-necked majestic doe stood tall and enthralled.

The angle was such that she could not get a good shot.
So, she handed him her Cannon; he aimed, then, clicked.
It would be days prior to seeing the picture he got.
She and her son took pleasure in the woodlands frolicked.

In the hours of darkness they finished playing cards.
Their lantern was glowing; it was time to go to sleep.
Outside there was a whirring they could not disregard.
The mother turned out the light; whispered, “Don't make a peep!”

Her heart was pounding faster and her eyes opened wide.
She was afraid to move, but tried her best to be brave.
She unzipped the tent slowly and took a look outside.
The unlikely sight she saw gave her heart a shock wave.
 
Up in the sky was a circle of lights… humongous!
The outer ones were orange and the inner ones flashed white.
The sound was so loud that soon the boy became anxious.
With a quiet hush she said, “We're going to be alright.”

All she could think about was fear and their abduction.
Teenage daughters, not camping, needed her to survive.
She was so terrified her mind could hardly function.
There was nothing she could do to get out of there alive.

Would sharp-witted life forms from outer space understand?
She had no choice but try; inside she shed silent tears.
Begging aloud to the alien craft, words unplanned.
Daughters, with no one to tend them would struggle for years.

When she explained their situation, the noise ceased quickly.
She peeked outside again to see only stars in the sky.
He, now a man, was not allowed to look out…hazy.
She thanks God for the night the aliens went bye-bye.

©  October 8, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

P.S. Years later, she saw the same craft in NASA space photos listed as something not 
seen before…unidentified!  When she went to show her husband, the picture had 
“disappeared!”


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Is Life Fair

Is Life Fair
(Quatrain)

Often I ask the question-Is life fair
Soul cries out daily burdens hard to bear
So much comes at me that I can not shake
My life rumbling about like an earthquake

Yet through all the pain there is some relief
Knowing there’s a purpose for all this grief
The purpose one day I will plainly see
Just what the Father has in-store for me

So in the meantime I will sit and wait
Try to do my best to keep my face straight
While looking at my seeds sprouting about
The sins of your past you cry out no doubt

Who can help me press through all of this pain
So much happens in life I can’t explain
Feeling like my heart is being torn apart
Fixing up mistakes cutting through my heart



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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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Mother's of all Species

It is the ending of a lovely day.
The baby birds are causing Mom distress.
I hear them peeping in the big oak tree.
“Now hush yourselves”, their weary mother says.

“We must be up to greet the early dawn.
When God sets fire to all the eastern sky,
Be there before the early worms are gone.
Now quiet down, I’ll sing a lullaby.”

Her sweet voice rises, lulling babes to sleep.				
All night sounds still to hear the lovely song.
And from young birdlings not another peep;          
Their mother’s near to guard them all night long.

By: Joyce Johnson



			


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Mortal Angels

Mortal Angels as people are unemployed these days
Ask help for certain Mortal Angels
Today and everyday
They will not refuse to assist you

12132011


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THE FLOWERS THAT MAKE A MOTHER SMILE

I wouldn't have loved anyone more than her,
and it is no secret that flowers make a mother smile,
when she takes them from two hands that care;
I honored you, mother with my thoughtfulness and pride...


Neither in early adolescence or late childhood: 
did I see a single trace of profound sadness;
and you gave me all those caresses and kisses 
when I was asleep in my warm and tidy bed...   


Beautiful and adorable mother, I was your only boy,
and in all honesty, you must have loved me a bit more
than the four girls you who were as obedient as I;
and in all fairness, they equally shared that incredible love...


Only your portrait can make that memory relive in your child,
I stare at it and suddenly light comes flashing at me: 
the happiest and most radiant smile God ever created so lovingly,
to make those tender eyes forever live in this smile of mine...


Sweet and gentle mother, be that comforting angel who will embrace me 
when uncertainty and sorrow will make me desperately mourn;
don't dry all these tears, but take them to the merciful Lord:
as my gift of infinite gratitude and immense love that I demonstrate so deeply...


Before I brought you crimson roses, the flowers that made a mother smile
on a blessed day, such as this, which no devoted son or daughter could forget;
now, I don't bring roses, but purple and yellow chrysanthemums to your burial site,
to embellish this unadorned tombstone on which I will weep and lament...   
 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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THE WATERMELON THIEVES

                                     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

FOR NATHAN D.'s - LET'S PUT A SMILE ON MY FACE CONTEST


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Don't Look Under the Bed

 Don't Look Under the Bed
 - by Bob Atkinson

..........Oliver Goldsmith tells the story ....

out walking for his health
a man spied his friend of years on pathway
how "are you sir?" he asked with smile
"not well" the gent replied back, looked terrified

"... what happed sir to create this stir
you seem so stressed this day
do you feel under the weather
perhaps you should stand in shade? ..."

the man then told his story
one of dubious glory
had come home early yesterday
and found his wife not at her work

lying without on her bed
no stitch of clothes or hat on head
had looked down and seen some shoes
not his size, but a style he knew

looking further had seen his friend
under the bed with open hand
covering body parts unnamed
a context which him inflamed

"... hmmmm the first man perused
this situation's not so unusual
a fix of gross proportions
one of life's heartless distortions

the gent began to lament
how he's sending wife to mother
divorcing within the week
slapping her with lawyer on each cheek

his friend then held up hand to stop
this track of mind which he thought
not a path one should take
in this situation of disgrace

"friend," he said with saddened tone
"you have no witness on your own
just your word against your lover
should you really send her to her mother?

your word against her own
you'll alimony pay through the nose
and half your wealth will be disposed
to this woman of lover spoken

best never again look under her bed
when you come home you should slam
front door hard to make some noise
yell 'Honey I'm Home' loudly in bright tones"

thus, the gent saw sense in this
went home with smile to his sweetness
"Honey I'm home," he loudly declared upon entry
he never again looked under bed or pantry


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Charlie Girl

While walking through the store I caught your scent,
A lady stood beneath the neon light,
She held a bottle of perfume in hand,
And memories returned into my sight.

Outside the school gates waiting for the bell,
I saw my mum; she’s standing, waiting there,
With me running out ready to go home,
The essence of Charlie kissing the air.

I see the old man stop all of those cars,
In his white mac with his lollipop stick,
Of course it was magic in a child’s eyes,
Like Paul Daniels performing a staged trick.

Past the airfield and rails, Blue on her lead,
Over the bridge to check the lizard hill,
Were they bathing in early summer sun,
Then on home where Peter was lying, still.

Sweet memories that I have in my heart
You may wonder on the what, why, and how
My mum will always be my ‘Charlie girl’,
Although it is me who wears Charlie now.





Form: Sicilian Quatrains


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THE PHOTOGRAPH

THE PHOTOGRAPH The old black and white photo Sits on a shelf by the door It's one of my dear mother She's maybe sixteen, not a day more. A stunning young woman Just before she was married She's looking away, small smile on her face At what point did she become so old and so harried? What takes its toll on such a sweet, smooth visage? Perhaps a bad marriage and four kids to manage But it ne'er crushed her spirit nor bowed her inner strength She took what was dealt her and minimized the damage. Her kids were her life, through thick and through thin She loved and protected them, despite his dire anger One by one the kids left and escaped the hostility Then finally she left and escaped her own danger. Now all that is left Is the old photo on a shelf by the door Of a stunning young woman A small smile on her face, harried no more. © ELR 2013


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does anyone agree with me that oxygen is an essential

      THE HANDIWORK OF MOTHER FUC>>>>>>NO, I MEAN 
                                             MOTHER NATURE
I used to sit right here complimenting Mother Nature on her handiwork
Please excuse me momentarily for I have some coffee to perk
Okay, now where was I, oh yes I was talking about nature now soiled
And damn it, my coffee over-boiled

So as I was saying I used to sit here complimenting every rose
Platitudes I knew they wanted to hear, like she’s the most beautiful bud that grows 
This very spot was a sanctuary for any bird who spotted a place for him to bathe and drink
They thought me, quite frankly, philanthropic, or at least that’s what I think

Squirrels used to seed the lawn with peanuts, cookies and bread
Buried for when the lion blows in lest they all be dead
Some were gregarious, some of them were shy
But I remember this one particular squirrel I named “Guy”

He’d come in my lap and dare me not to think him cute
He was adorable with well stuffed cheeks to boot
I look back on those days as dream colored fantasies
Where there is no sickness, illness nor disease

Those squirrels no longer dig up that which let’s them live
And besides, because of carcinogens in the air I have no peanuts to give 
But birds to bathe in polluted water filled with bugs
I’m telling you man, the important thing to save is the planet and forget a losing war on f*****g drugs
            © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee~! 


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Appalachian-second bear episode

Meanwhile, our troop moved on down the trail.
One more bear episode needs be told.
We arrived at the next stop with out fail.
It was late evening and beginning to get cold.

Two of us went to the horse spring for a bath
And use the same one to clean our clothes.
As we left the spring we saw blocking our path.
A mother bear and two cubs, ...fear arose.

We hid behind a tree and watched them.
In our unlaced boots, carrying wet things.
As they walked up the path toward the rim.
We knew we couldn’t just appear threatening.

We slowly followed keeping the cubs in sight.
The mother had left the weanlings.
But reappeared on top of a bank on the right.
As she jumped we started yelling and arms flinging.


They ran, she ran, we gathered our stuff and we ran.
Yelling and flailing, we chased them past the adirondack
We...right behind, duck into it fast as we can
and tie the gate before they could come back.

Come back they did and playfully bite on the wire.
The boys were elated and good pictures taken,
To show their friends that none of us was a liar.
Bruce and I recovered after being so visibly shaken.

They finally left, and so came to a fitting end,
Our last bear episode and good laugh,
The other boys had at our expense and chagrin.
On the oldest boy and the “chief of staff”.

We hiked our last six miles with no major events.
Still time to glow for being a trail survivor.
Fontana resort awaited...hot showers, condiments
Then home...all slept soundly, except me... the driver.

© Mar 30 2010       Charles Henderson


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STILL WAITING

I'm trying to be patient.
It's taken many years.
I've gotten through the toughest part.
I'm all cried out of tears.

I'm waiting for the mother
that is coming back for me.
I'm sure she will come back real soon...
She'll be here.........you will see.

I've told her how I need her.
She knows how long it's been.
She walked away 24 years ago
when I was only ten.

Some say 'Give up, it's over! '
That just could never be.
I will wait for her return
as long as there's breath in me.

I've talked to her, she knows me
She'll be back and then we'll sing
Till then I'll just be patient
I'm here..........Still Waiting. 


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Mollie Rose


The smiling face that looks out at me
from that funny old picture frame-
Can no longer hold me in her arms
or call me by my given name

Always a part of my daily life
it sits right there on the shelf-
Sometimes when I look at her
it seems I'm looking at myself

Beloved mother gone to soon
forever you are my Mollie Rose-
Waiting there for me to join you
where the river of life forever flows


For the Picture Frame contest...
I have an old picture of my mother
Mollie, taken when she was about 16.
I am her clone...lol










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Taken For Granted

If only I had known
  how little time we had,
I would have surely shown
  how much I was glad.

To have you for my mother
  and to count you as a friend.
To know you as a teacher
  of how to love and mend.

To see the many little ways
  you brought joy to my life,
To know your strength and grace
  in times of trouble and strife.

You did for me most everything,
  I never gave it second thought, 
For I took your love for granted
  and never realized all I got.


TLH  © 04-22-2012


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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!

~Reecie


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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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Three Among Us Named Sue

Bows in the pigtails, bows on the dress
swinging her arms, loving all the sass
bouncing and beautiful, rounding and rue
we flow into the coming days, of kissing Sue.

Sue is immortal, holding her babes,
loving her man, cooking her meals,
wanting for the beyond, entering her days
slowing and slowing until she sits more than swings.

And there you find her bowed back all alone,
waiting for a call, wanting everyone back home,
kisses so remote, we wonder how they disappear
until we find warmth with the one who calls us home.


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FREE CEE a poem to all of you who may have read me and PRAYED FOR A YOUNG WOMAN

  THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I KNOW TO GIVE THANKS
i am joyous- i am overjoyed
for the tragedy a young girl came to avoid
her mother is now infinitely relieved
because i always knew the wondrous woman believed

when she got the sad news there was a shadow cast
but now the sun eradicated the shade at last
there were so many hymns left for her to sing
but she couldn't because her angel had a broken wing

and so her still small voice was quieted by fear
and anguish impossible for a mother to bear
but she looked evil straight in the face
and assured her daughter she'd be all right in her mother's embrace

i am a happy man today for sure
because it seems they finally came upon a cure
today that mother watches her angel hover because of the gift she received
because i always knew the wondrous woman believed
     this lovely lady and i thank the six or seven of
      you who read my poem "THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I KNOW HOW TO
                                               PRAY"
  (c) 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~


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Pre-Mortality Angst

We’ve been together since creation.
You’d be my mother, I’d be your son.
We watched each passing generation,
Hoping mankind would continue on.

Our assigned ancestors lived and died,
While perpetuating onward our lineage,
In spite of disease, famines, genocides--
Or wars for lands, religions, or just pillage.

Civilizations rose and fell, rise and fall;
Empires, city-states, kingdoms, and nations.
Our ancestors were amidst them all
Back to our earliest generations.

You and I were held back to a modern age.
Happily mankind managed to carry on
Long enough for us to take the stage.
But there’s a new terror for us: abortion.

Your parents happily wanted you to be,
So I wished you godspeed at the portal.
Saying “see you later” you promised me
That I’d have a chance to live as a mortal.

Now I’m left with my potential descendents,
Hoping that you will soon keep your word,
Because now on you we are all dependent
To perpetuate our family ever onward.


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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.


9


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MOTHER-HOOD

Such a joy I am getting to feel Being a woman naturally I should, Didn't assume, so pleasant it would be, The journey from the threshold of Motherhood. Each day dawns with a different sensation Making it such a bitter-sweet experience. One can never describe it enough A privilege it is, to go through it once! A new life originating from my womb; The very thought is so invigorating! My life's priority even before entering it, Such divinely strong is the bonding. Each day, as I feel you inside me I feel happy with my eyes twinkling! I can sense that you are hale and hearty By all your tiggling and wiggling. A feeling of completeness is what you give me, Reassurance and strength; from you I derive. All my life's dreams I will fulfill Just waiting for you, my bundle of joy, to arrive!


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THE STINGING KIND

Jellyfish is the stinging kind,
it is found in droves
on our crowded beaches...
any little sting can drive anyone wild.


Yes, they are spineless, mordant and gelitous...
being closed watched by large gulls with a hungry palate,
but are chased away by dogs so ferocious;
I'm wondering how they will look and taste on my plate!


And still curious kids scoop them with plastic sand-shovels
and try to save them by dropping them in water-filled buckets,
running with excitement...ignoring the screams of their moms,
and they yell, " Put them down, they will sting you more than once!"


O jellyfishes, don't be vicious...we love you like shell-fish,  
if you could talk, your bizarre conduct won't be misunderstood by many! 
Is the water so polluted and infested with sharks that you flee from the sea, 
or are the fishermen so angry for wasted time on a worthless catch?


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PLANNED A DAY IN THE MERRY SUNSHINE

Came from work, exhausted and moody,
fall is advancing with an improvised, swift pace,
but the meteorologist defies it with the happiest face;
and tomorrow I'll wake up and trot away! 


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
with a basked full of treats and a bottle of red wine,
to be consumed by the shade of an elm with my dearest;
and all the songbirds I will invite to my afternoon's feast!


We lay on the neatest blanket, facing the calmest, eastern sea
as sailboats drift by...a toddler listens to his mom's nostalgic song,
and in her tender voice that soldier's smile, on rippled waves, appears;
and tears, with a solar luster, fall on the pristine sand to recall her lost love.
  

Seagulls glide over to announce the close of an August's evening
still huddled in intimate embrace, the rushing waves tickle our toes,
and not minding their amusing play, we carry on and not withdraw;
before we lift the damp blanket, we are greeted by stars in throngs.


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
a fantasy realized by two who will dream of this passionate season,
remembering our tanned faces and skin glittering with sand;
waving goodbye to the disheveled mother and trembling child.



Note:  These are the observations of a happy couple spending a day on the beach,
but  the happiness they felt wasn't shared by a mother and child who both missed a husband 
and father; and by the sad look on their faces, gazing out to the sea...he had gone to the  
Iraq War, and unfortunately had never returned home.


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How long 'til it ends?

You can't turn on the t.v. anymore,
and not see any bad news.
You can't turn on the radio,
and not hear about sex, drugs, and death.

Shootings on streets, by schools, around stores,
Drug dealers, drug busts, death due to drugs.
Raps and songs about sex, money, drugs, clothes, and
then you have the 4th rape case this month.

When is it going to end?
When will we hear and see peace?
How far will it go before
someone sees what it'll take to make it work?

You can't live in peace,
knowing a mother abandoned her child.
You can't live without anger,
knowing the world is only getting worse.

A mother abandons her child, another kills hers,
A father kidnaps his, another kills his wife and unborn child.
You want to strangle them all,
But you can't, it'll mean you're just as bad as them. 
Killing, but yours is avenge. 
And still wrong.


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Down Memory Lane

 
I took a walk down memory lane,
My heart reliving the scenes
I visited with loved ones now gone
The ones I see in my dreams.
 
Each picture tugged at my heart
Some even brought down a tear
I felt a special kind of glow
For I felt each loved one near.
 
There was my mother alive and well
I felt the warmth of her arms
I knew that I had been loved
And kept safe from all harms.
 
I took a walk down memory lane...
I held my baby girl tight
She was fast asleep on my chest
Unafraid of the dark night.
 
The man of my dreams was there
Back when passion meant fire
I stared at his youthful face
Was once more filled with desire.
 
 Tonight I walked down memory lane
The journey was ever sweet
I saw myself as I had been
Oh, it was such a joyous treat!
 
One day I’ll reach the end of the lane
That lane that is called life
And I’ll look out from a picture
A smiling mother and wife
 
And when she looks at my picture
I hope my daughter will smile
Remembering that she was loved
Which makes life’s journey worthwhile.


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THE DARK POET- A SPOOKY REVELATION

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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A DELICIOUS SPLIT-PEA SOUP

Green peas and all kinds of beans
are split open to release their seeds,
like those peas in a green pod,
that mother cooked in a huge pot!


One of my dad's friends who wore a veteran's brooch, 
would shamelessly cheat to get a delicious split-pea soup;
mom didn't know he was a cheater, and surely would have hit him
with the wooden dough roller when he peaked with a grim!   


And mom slowly stirred the vegetable soup,
she used to say, " The longer it cooks, the better it tastes! '
And my mouth was drooling to taste those soft peas...
that I took out of the seeds' casings without miscue! 


Mother rushed in the kitchen with a roar of an enraged lion,
" That idiot is playing no fair game! He is a menace to all!
And he passes glasses of brandy to get everybody drunk! " 
" He wants to win no matter what the cost...oh, clever maven! "


The split-pea soup steams like a hot volcano erupting,
the cover of the pot blows off, " What a mess on my stove! " mom  screams...
" It's all his fault that I am in this state! " she continues yelling...
" I still hear his big mouth mocking...wait 'till I have finished cooking these peas! "


Entered in Nathan's Laccese contest, " Two peas in a pod " 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Inheritance

Mother England surrogated me
And O her white breast was sweet
Honey on my tongue muting misery
While banana trash tied my feet

She stripped me naked in her bed
No culture clothe me from winter’s cold
Her language like a saber in my head
O mother England ships were bold

I was the darkie holding the flag
On the native shores of my own heart
Knowing well history wears the cloth to rag
For mother I did my patriotic part

And when the sugar season was done
And the black mint tea in the cup
Said I lag behind the fifth son
I convulsed, and identity hiccupped

Who is my father, then I asked
And why is my skin not pure as yours
Why are you rich, when I am tasked
Why only pity for hunger and sores?

Hush child, don’t listen to America
Them Negroes are ungrateful, boy
They will go from school to Attica
Democracy is too precious to destroy

But I did not ask about another land
I wanted my promise to keep in my hand
Because I saw the waves gnawing sand
And knew I am dead if I had no plan.

So around the fireside of leaky huts
Kit and kin we dreamt and went
To Liverpool from our Stony Guts
And subtle too was our intent.

For mother stored their her stolen wealth
Repatriated from the mangled shores
Yes we can work but like Anancy’s stealth
We will castle our rights and keep the stores.


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ONLY WHEN GOD IS WALKING DOWN MY PATH

I may look very naive and vulnerable,
hiding the pangs of my distress so well,
looking normal and walking too brisk...
only when God is walking down my path.


I seem to look away and shun the troubles,
but inside I am hurting like anybody else,
who dreams of a coming universal peace...
only when God is walking down my path. 


I nourish my body and thank my Creator
for every slice of bread and drink of water,
the essential things that not everyone has...
only when God is walking down my path.


Since my birth, I have been sheltered by a roof top,
feeling no rain, hearing no wind, bearing no bitter cold;
blessings are added daily, not taken away by wrath,
all this is possible...only when God is walking down my path.


I was given a loving mother who cared for my daily needs 
watched me grow and I spiritually grew to praise Him in my hymns; 
and her unforgettable and soft words still echo, as when I knelt down and wept,
not making me stray from my course...only when God walked down my path. 


I have been fortunate enough to have lived and survived
this long and witnessed may events that have shaped
a changing world in constant turmoil, unwilling to get rid of ugly hate;
I feel very sound and safe...only when God is walking down my path.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Early Days

Early Days

The highchair beside the kitchen door
my domain, vantage point of my world
on the linoleum checker board floor
I played until my knees were sore

The center of the world to me
I learned to know as my mother
cooked and cleaned while I was free
to grow into what I might be

A world consisting of black and white
as appropriate as the days television
images remembered vivid and bright
raised by my mother in love and light

Stephen


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Baby Birds

It is the ending of a lovely day
The baby birds are causing Mom distress.
I hear them peeping in the big oak tree.
“Now hush yourselves”, their weary mother says.

“We must be up to greet the early dawn.
When God sets fire to all the eastern sky,
Be there before the early worms are gone.
Now quiet down, I’ll sing a lullaby.”
								 
Her sweet voice rises, lulling babes to sleep.
All night sounds still to hear the lovely song
And from young birdlings not another peep          
With God and Mother near the whole night long.




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FREE CEE please stay planted for me

               PLEASE STAY PLANTED FOR ME

Oh lady of the sun please don't leave before the spring
the time when Mother Nature shows off what she can bring
mother nature said “flowers shouldn't be for sale”
as brown and dead removed their veil

they shed their masks of coldness and snow
so that the tulips and hydrangeas may grow
flowers shouldn't be for sale but just for show
that lovers may sit in the palette of a garden so please, my dear, don't go

it's almost time for a picnic by that lake
and if it be your will my heart is yours to take
should my voice be stilled and my legs become too weak for me
if I cannot command words let Mother Nature's pride speak for me

stay until the bluebirds return to your yard of grinning green
when the garden demands it the most scintillating scene you've ever seen
please don't leave me now at the springtime's request
when the roses bloom and the soil become their cradle and their nest
   © 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

 


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A letter from Prison

Dear Dad,
Though you're not my real Father
I know you tried your best,
to raise a wild rebelious child,
I put you to the test.

 You were young and so was I,
when once we started out
I know I made my Mother cry,
when we would scream and shout.

My real Dad left when I was Two
he never cared for me,
and there was nothing I could do
to make my Mother see,

that we could make it on our own
she couldn't stand the pain,
of living life so all alone
she had to love again.

I stayed out every night I could
as I became a teen
what I did just wasn't good
but I was caught between,

friends who tried to really care
if I lived or died
and life at home that seemed to only
push my world aside.

I never meant to kill a man
when we set out that night,
to have some fun was just the plan
but nothing turned out right.

I'm writing this on Father's Day to say 
please don't be sad,
It's not your fault I went astray,
and yes........
I love you,
Dad.


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THE REAGAN'S WAR ON BUGS

      THE HANDIWORK OF MOTHER FUC>>>>>>NO, I MEAN 
                                             MOTHER NATURE
I used to sit right here complimenting Mother Nature on her handiwork
Please excuse me momentarily for I have some coffee to perk
Okay, now where was I, oh yes I was talking about nature now soiled
And damn it, my coffee over-boiled

So as I was saying I used to sit here complimenting every rose
PORTENDING Platitudes I knew they wanted to hear, like she’s the most beautiful bud that grows 
This very spot was a sanctuary for any bird who spotted a place for him to bathe and drink
They thought me, quite frankly, philanthropic, or at least that’s what I think

Squirrels used to seed the lawn with peanuts, cookies and bread
Buried for when the lion blows in lest they all be dead
Some were gregarious, some of them were shy
But I remember this one particular squirrel guy

He’d come in my lap and dare me not to think him cute
He was adorable with well stuffed cheeks to boot
I look back on those days as dream colored fantasies
Where there WAs no sickness, illness nor disease

Those squirrels no longer dig up that which let’s them live
And besides, because of carcinogens in the air I have no peanuts to give 
Birds NO LONGER TO to bathe in polluted water filled with bugs
I’m telling you man, the important thing to save is the planet and forget a losing war on f*****g drugs
            © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee~! 


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TEMPORARY CONTEMPORARY

TEMPORARY    CONTEMPORARY



Today’s contemporary is tomorrow’s traditional;
The older we get the more traditional we prefer.
New young mother cooks not like her mother at all -
But  new children think it’s traditional with her.
We become traditional ourselves. Them is us.
Marx, Freud, Christ, found themselves in isolation - 
Of contemporary thought, the focus.
We now find in their words the consolation
Of well-known familiar traditional belief.
And as Ole Blue Eyes warbled and  crooned 
(See the crowd of grandkids stare in disbelief)
Their grandma was pre-bebop and swooned. 


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

Written by   Sydney  Peck
Entered in  Joe   Maverick’s   Contest     Contemporary


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BROUGHT UP WITH FAIR LOVE

Having been brought into the light with motherly mirth,
and it was a miracle indeed, beginning to breath...
being greeted by the first sunray
on a gelid, snowy February day.


As age added height to my stature, and handsomeness
already reflected in puberal looks and manly gestures,
a reminder was my persistent forte and call... 
that I had been brought up with fair love.


Had I been born in a different country, still my inherited genes
would have been the same with all the distinguished features, 
once born a male, one is the portent of virility...
to conquer with his sexiness all females genuinely. 


Many men are raised on excessive pride, according to custom,
I wouldn't have been brought up with fair love and loved with esteem...
if desire hadn't been the driving force
of the passions that altered my course.


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


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THE DESPERATE PLEA OF AN UNBORN

Mommy, you carry me in your womb,
not knowing that it'll become my tomb;
mommy, on a cigarette you constantly puff,
and I, too, inhale the smoke that makes you cough...


I sense much loneliness, even though
I can't see you and feel the sadness of your day;
why does smoke make you reject love,
the tenderest love you should have for your baby?  


Your lullaby isn't heartfelt and sweet to make me sing,
there's a sourness I can't easily explain;
most mothers are happy when they conceive,
why aren't you excited, delighted and really glad?


My desperate plea you can't hear, because this voice is too low
for you to hear it and give up that bad habit;
I want to live like others babies and drink my milk and grow,
but you're not concerned and moved by it...


Even your teeth have turned yellow and your breath smells,
smoke makes all your clothes sting as your brittle hair loses sheen;
how can I survive, if you continue to clog your lungs?
I breath what you breath...I cough when you cough, and sometimes bleed...


Mommy, I will have the same beautiful eyes that you have,
that reflect the color of a spring sky and softness of a calm sea;
mommy, live and let me live and hear my desperate plea,
many uncaring mothers have died and taken their unborn to their grave...


Cpoyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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What effects of Anger in our soul

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


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Mama

I did not stop to tell you
I didn’t even try
I did not think about it
I’m not real sure why

You are always there for me
And yet this remains
I don’t tell you near enough
That I am just the same

All the things I wanted 
In everything I do
I see that I’m a mirror
Reflecting what is you

I should have told you sooner
I could have let you know
I will always love you
Thanks for helping me grow.




Happy Mother's Day Mama


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TWO COUNTRIES LOVED BY ME

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 inspiration...like 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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Why the Rose Bled

Parents so proud
Four sons they raised
From the Highlands of Scotland
In the pre-war days
 
On their crofts they worked
Morning till night
Unknown to them then
Off a future fight
 
The Germans have invaded
A country so free
Poland was taken
The world shaken visually
 
Britain declares war
As our men enlist
To rid the enemy
As the fighting shifts
 
Europe's engulfed 
In a feverish war
Many are dying
To comprehend what for
 
The four brothers
Sign up to fight
As a mother will pray
Every night

Campaigns they fight
In these theatres of war
Witnessing horrors
Never seen before
 
In their garden at home
On the family crofts
A bed of roses
With petals so soft
 
Then one day 
With a passing glance
A pink rose dripping red
In deathly stance
 
Their mother turns
To the gate she looks
Telegram in hand
From the postman she took
 
With trembling hands
She opens with care
Upon reading the message
In tear laden stare
 
Their eldest son
In Africa was lost
As many many others
Deaths global cost
 
Every day
As she passes the rose
It's pink petals bloom
Her tomorrow's fear grows



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war4.php


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Kharithana (Kri-sta-la)

Mitochondrial Eve spinning the moon 
without interruption or supervision.
Stars sail across the sky without time
as she is both mother and midwife.

Primordial Eve in infinite density.
Infinitesimally small, a ball of power
a witness to it all, as all
abilities to predict the future break down.

She was there with the molten soup;
the black iron core glowing blood red.
The syrupy mixture of elements
spirit, earth, fire, wind, and water.

Kharithana exhaled into existence
into Lucy our African humanity.
Silently witnessing the dawn of spring
the azalea blossoms, the buzzing insects.

Everything comes alive when Kharithana
opens her eyes at sunrise to capture
that moment when the first golden ray
caps the mountain range and forms a lining.

Thus when Kharithana yawns, stretches out her arms,
like the big bang my heart becomes a beating drum,
synapses snap and my quantum capillaries
rediscover the meaning of life.



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All these God does for you

He is never too busy for you
In fact, He 'longs for your prayer'
At any time of day or night
No matter where you are

You have full
Complete, and
Instant access to the Creator
King of all things

He listens to every word you say
He desires conversation
He knows everything
He made you and all that you love

He knows you intimately and only desires for your good
He will share your burdens and struggles
Rejoice with you in your triumphs


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a LADY A LOVER A LIAR A LIFE

          A LADY, A LOVER, A LIAR, A LIFE

All her life she had been someone else’s someone
Her daddy, her husband and then her sweetest son
Yet she was a butterfly pinned in a coffin of glass
While only one demon knew what would come to pass

Who is the man she lays next to in bed?
They now share only their bed head to head
A stranger had replaced a lifetime’s once sweet chance
And climbing mountains sometimes results in soiled pants

Sometimes chances  have a way of leading to lamentable choices
And even springtime speaks with vehement voices
It screams too loud when quiet is that which one may require
When Mother Nature demands a stalwart stranger as her squire

Fantasies can often be fed by the flames of desire
And a lady’s love can be led by a liar
Someone who vows forever in search of naked flesh
But too oft reality and a delivered dream shall never mesh

Everyone needs some time spent on their own
But for the poor souls frightened of being alone
She’d been a daughter, a mother and a regimented wife
And that’s why she decided to end her pitifully predictable life
       © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
 


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I DO NOT KNOW WHY MY FATHER EATS ROACHES

          QUOTE ME BY CHAPTER AND CURSE

No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are bastards who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostage while holding a gun
But stoned cold junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun

I knocked down and old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing an inhabited home the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl

Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn back around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one of those fun-loving fools 

What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply can’t trust
The ones who think havoc is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building to an apartment because I know there are riches in apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat a man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree

So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And you all deserve to be robbed because you’re rich and undoubtedly unkind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her closet of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize you’re missing things that I’ve sold
   
I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would be rotten and rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never really take a life
           ©  2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~  




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The Mother Cat

Long Island’s the home,
  Of the mother cat.
Max, Mai Ling, and Gracie,
  Are so proud of that.

They are well received,
  And in from the cold.
In the warmness of love,
  That their mother unfolds.

While out on the streets,
  The hidden dangers stir.
She puts them to sleep,
  With her poetic purrs.







__________________________
This poem is for Rhoda Galgiani.
Merry Christmas Rhoda,
This is for you and your cats;
Max, Mai Ling, and Lil Gracie.


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I SWEAR SATAN REALLY IS MY DADDY

      THE HANDIWORK OF MOTHER FUC>>>>>>NO, I MEAN 
                                             MOTHER NATURE
I used to sit right here complimenting Mother Nature on her handiwork
Please excuse me momentarily for I have some coffee to perk
Okay, now where was I, oh yes I was talking about nature now soiled
And damn it, my coffee over-boiled

So as I was saying I used to sit here complimenting every rose
Platitudes I knew they wanted to hear, like she’s the most beautiful bud that grows 
This very spot was a sanctuary for any bird who spotted a place for him to bathe and drink
They thought me, quite frankly, philanthropic, or at least that’s what I think

Squirrels used to seed the lawn with peanuts, cookies and bread
Buried for when the lion blows in lest they all be dead
Some were gregarious, some of them were shy
But I remember this one particular squirrel I named “Guy”

He’d come in my lap and dare me not to think him cute
He was adorable with well stuffed cheeks to boot
I look back on those days as dream colored fantasies
Where there is no sickness, illness nor disease

Those squirrels no longer dig up that which let’s them live
And besides, because of carcinogens in the air I have no peanuts to give 
But birds to bathe in polluted water filled with bugs
I’m telling you man, the important thing to save is the planet and forget a losing war on f*****g drugs
            © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee~! 


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A MOTHER SO GREAT

A mother so great
And pure as gold
Who is always nice
Let God behold
A friend who cares
What happens to me
What more could I ask
What more could I see
If you're sad or down
And feeling gray
She'll say you're my friend
And hurt will go away
Just look her up
If you need a friend
She'll never say no
She'll care until the end


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This Mother's Plea

I once had a bright, little gem 
How she'd sparkle, how she'd shine
With laughing eyes and a perpetual smile
What a gem, that daughter of mine

But one day the smile faded
And the laughter left her eyes
Somehow my little gem turned dark and cloudy
Such a change made this mother cry

I miss my bright, little jewel
I no longer recognize
The dim and gloomy gem that has lost her sheen
Brokenhearted, this mother sighs

Can my gem's luster be restored?
I wonder, what would it take?
Perhaps some of God's tumbling and polishing
Please, oh Lord, for this mother's sake                                                  
       



















































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Try This On For Size

She doesn't like my style of dress 
her taste is different so I guess 
I must confess her clothes are nice 
all put together with pizzazz and spice 
Soft and big, warm and comfy 
she says it makes me look so frumpy
Her body's tall, sleek and slim 
she can wear clothes that hug her skin 
My body's aged from giving birth 
it's changed my shape, my walk, my girth
Some day she'll find that just like me 
her body slim will no longer be 
And I do know some future day 
you'll come to me and you will say 
The old baggy jeans and flannel shirt 
may I borrow to wear instead of my skirt 
And your old worn slippers may I keep 
the high heeled shoes don't fit my feet 
Those worn out pj's look so good 
I'll get some like them, I think I should 
So together in the rocking chair 
feet put up, down with the hair 
Sitting in our comfy clothes 
we'll be together under the throws 
Oh dare to dream that'll be the day 
in the mean time I will say 
Just smile at me when you come around 
all dressed up to go out on the town
And know that I'm now warm and happy 
you look just fine so cold and snappy



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Unknown Angel

You are my oldest angel.
Your name will go untold.
At first you were too young for this.
Now you are too old.

Just so you know I love you.
Your thoughts, your smile, your heart.
You've been with me through darker days,
but you loved me from the start.

It's strange to look you eye to eye
and see how much you've grown.
I wonder where we'll end this journey.
Will it be far that you will roam?

Even though you are much older
than a "baby" or a "child".
Don't go thinkin' you're all grown up.
The world out there is wild.


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HUNGRY MOUTHS IN EVERY COUNTRY

There are hungry mouths
in every country of this planet,
and everyone should help with little or much;
how can we stand see them suffer, and helpelessly die on their beds?



North America the wealthiest nation, which God bountifully blessed, 
has its poor living in drug-infested and run-down neighborhoods,
faces that are never seen by the unsuspecting visitors;
these unfortunate people have known hunger, not savored a delicious banquet! 



Whose fault is it the Government's or the uncaring parents'
who have neglected them, and is it their permanent plagues:
rugs, indifference and lovelessness that have reduced them to this awful and shameful state? 
They should blame themselves, not those governing and giving them handouts!



Africa is the worst continent hit by a lack of food caused by corruption,
everywhere the eyes turn: they witness the fate of those dying without a word of consolation;
mothers clutching their little ones and their daily laments are still unheard...
seeking water, while all beasts have become the skeletons of their devastated land! 
 


The Vatican always sends missionaries to the African people to proclaim Christ, the Savior;
and it has vehemently invoked the pity of the wealthy and the kind to ease their misery;
and Pope Benedict XVI prays on his feeble knees, asking for their generosity!
Why can't He relinquish His guarded treasures and feed them a hundred times over? 



I am not a KIng or President  and slabs of gold, locked in volts, I have not; 
and with the little I have...I will share with them and keep my conscience intact!
Reach out, world, and eradicate this disease that's killing millions of unlucky folks;
leave your seas and deserts, your cities and towns and be among them to end this curse!



There are hungry mouths in each corner of our earth so marvelously blue,
mouths with lips that are cracked and dry; bodies writhing in undeserved pain!
Find them in Africa, in South America, or anywhere you'll be traveling to:
unattended perishing souls....dying without dignity and so alone! 
  

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Mother Oak

You’ve always been the quiet wind,
Filling our sails on the sea of life.
The silent rock of our family,
That eased our pain and strife.

Your heart beats the drum dance;
The four corners of the wind.
Wife of the late Wimpy Edmonds,
A devoted mother and friend.

She has stitched on life’s pattern,
Of our family’s quilt with love.
With gentle and caring hands,
She sewed her qualities thereof.

And in the loom of family,
She’s the stitch that’s kept us together.
She’s our divine sinew of life,
Stronger than a raw piece of leather.

She’s persevered the winds of life,
With her strong but silent hope.
She’s endured the winds of time,
As immovable Mother Oak.





_____________________________
Dedicated to Genevieve Edmonds,
Wife of the late Wimpy Edmonds.


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DEVASTED BY THE DEATH OF THEIR YOUNGEST

All parents are devastated
by the death of their youngest;
did strange behavior or premonition
pique their curiosity at all?



They got out of hand at the neighbor's party too wild and intense,
and without supervision, they binged and laughed hysterically;
blasting music, making obscene gestures, dancing madly and cursing loudly,
and they felt too powerful with those drinks in their irresponsible hands!   



Actions aren't justified when they are premeditated so perfectly,
killers make plans to murder someone, then claim insanity;
kids tell their parent lies to do things that are harmful and shameful,
down the road across Lisa's house, four kids barely seventeen drove into a light pole!



Their blood is still there, and thousands of flowers can't cover those stains,
unconsolable mothers kneel by their angels' beautiful pictures;
friends sob and hold back their tears, fearing they would be next!
Why trust kids fully, when a cautious word can definetly put some sense into them?



All parents are devastated by the death and tormented by the demise of their youngest:
when agony rips apart their wailing chest for not having done enough;
and to carry that guilt inside is a costly price: to have seen a young life wasted and lost!
Let's learn from these tragedies, and do more to prevent more fatalities!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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I Hope You'll Remember Me

To those who do not know me

I'm a husband, father, brother and son.

I accepted the call of my country

Now my race is run.


I died an angry death

Lying on foreign soil.

For my family and my country

In hope a terrorist, I might foil.


To the mother of my children

I hope you'll remember me.

As a good and loving husband

Just as I tried to be.


To my children Karen and Jacob

I hope you'll remember me.

As the dad you could always turn to.

I loved my family.


To my brother and my sister

I hope you'll remember me.

As a good and decent man

The way a brother should be.


To my mother and my father

I hope you'll remember me

As a loving, trusting son

Proud of me, I hope you'll always be.


To the Country that I served

I hope you'll remember me.

As a soldier, as an American

Who died for liberty.


Fear not your loss

For this I guarantee

I'll see you all in heaven

and I hope you'll remember me.


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Premonition

Throw around legs
Throwaway hair
Biting her tongue
Tapping the chair

Dinnertime psychology
Filling her frayed mind
Undigested memories 
Too bitter to be confined

Eighteen years 
Blurred as if one
Opaque footsteps
Of a misbegotten son

“Dessert, mom?”
“No thanks, dear.”
Her plate is empty
Her conscience clear


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An Amazing Woman

Gentle, yet hardened appendages reach out from her being
As eyes, that have seen many years, look piercingly about
My mother, she greets me as she has always, like her baby
With a smile and with love, her voice then gives to shout

Happiness is felt when her presence is acknowledged
This woman of many years offers love through her ways
She personifies virtue, for her honesty’s never diminished
She is caring and loving as her generosity’s displayed

My mother, a woman of whit, of words and of honor
She taught that dignity is the prize for which to strive
She means more today, though I’m a man of my forties
As I’m still then her baby and will be forever, in her eyes


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Ava and Me in our Rainy Retreat

Amaretto morning
just like the earth to be grey today
Time for the old dog-eared book
all the while begging the rain to stay
I couldn't buy a moment like this
even in Lion's Head Antique store
I couldn't wish for a better excuse
to sink into myself, or to love you more
You grab the pillows and blanket
I'll fill the room with Red Star music
We will tell stories 'till we're laughing out loud
Ions of rain and the pressure diffuses
We are no longer dealing with death
We are no longer frazzled and wild
Just give us the rain on a Tuesday morning
and we become silly, as mother and child...


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CHANGING TIMES IN AMERICA

Women are quickly adjusting to modern times
by being more liberal and independent of men;
gone is the housewife, mother and wife,
who stayed home and took care of her children...



On the other hand, men seem to have lost their power
as breadwinners by becoming less caring and loving husbands;
families rarely gather at dinner to discuss matters, 
and this daily celebration pleased their Creator...



Martin Luther was assassinated and John F. Kennedy followed him,
so did his brother Robert and America watched and mourned;
these were, indeed, difficult times that changed the image of a nation,
and the innocent blood spilled by hatred spread more indignation...



Unexpectedly, something marvelous happened which brought awareness;
and soon after the American astronauts landed on the barren and grey moon,
everyone wanted to declare their rights as abiding and loyal citizens
of a country that suppressed freedom and created unneccessary choas and gloom...

   

This teen was powerless and horrified witnessed these events that changed America,
peace, justice and fairness were far cries from reality, more needed to be done; and mama
didn't want to lose me when the Vietnam War started and hippies refused to pick up arms;
and their peaceful songs are a  reminder of a youth spared by God for His great purpose...
 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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The Woman In The Mirror

When I pass a mirror
and catch you watching me,
I'm stricken with the strangest chill
that no one else can see.

The resemblance is uncanny.
The face, the hair, the nose.
I'm even just about your height.
I guess that's how it goes.

I'll always be reminded 
of when you went away
each time I pass a mirror...
(That's every single day.)


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Maker of My Home

Upon the counter, she kneads her dough
This woman, not of intimidating frame
But yet, such strength, she pounds away
My wife, my love, who has taken my name

Such pride I have, to call her that
She makes my house a lovely home
So for her strength and loving ways
From her heart I’d never roam

Oh woman, when sun descends
As I walk through this unlocked door
To see you standing, yet with a smile
I could not love you even more

The children run to greet me, true
The dog, she begs and whimpers strong
But this, my love I must convey
It’s with your heart, that I belong


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Cardboard Box

Cardboard box
dormant and faded
tell me my life
forgotten and jaded

If God peeked in
would the Almighty sigh
he took my mom today
she taped your tattered side

Report cards, pictures
even a lock of blonde hair
grandma don't tell grandpa
I'm crying in his favorite chair

Why must we lose someone
to truly reminisce
was I really this happy once
him too I miss

Cardboard box
dormant and faded
tell me my life
forgotten and jaded


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Ava's Smile

In your smile, I see:
skinned knees
laughing eyes
butterflies caught
sad good byes
wishes blown
to azure skies
all bottled up
in your grandmother's eyes
stories told
tear drops caught
kisses given
never bought
dreams kept
in your sleep
wrapping them 'round me
as I weep
a wish for winter
a love for snow
a mind full of wonder
and wanting to know
future forgiveness
and hearts trimmed in gold
all in your smile
at 3 years old.


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Ludmila's Symphony

Sleep under fan palms
in the blue, by the sea
with your dreams brought crystalline
with delicious clarity
Bend time to twisting
as it slows, feel to breathe
while the moments ravel skyward
with the magnitude of ease
Fly sorrow captured
in your veins, spilling forth
with integrity swept to the wind
an enigmatic force
Lift delicate brilliance
in your thoughts, take a peak
at the strength which always fashioned you
when you thought you were weak
Settle into living
under stars, wrapped in blue
'till they cry the moon a river
for the pain that you've been through
Sip cathartic liquid
from the dew, salty air
while the ocean dares to kiss you 
with emotion everywhere
Grieve like a child
with the world, at your feet
and you'll rise in perfect harmony
a symphony complete.


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Nocturne in C minor

Saturated with decision
words in grain and grass
broken into tiny pieces
shards of biting glass
Born of music, lost reflection
calling from the pool
Fill me up with stars creative
sugar dipped and new
Hollow out the heart in motion
stain it iridescent
Carve the moon a silver locket
shavings from the crescent
She will hang like butter beige
stone and marble breath
on the living and the dying
'luminate their death
Breathing words of whispered sage
Tiny slivered glass
You're my music in the moonlight
lost in evening's past.


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Weeping Willow Wish

Blue toes, willow blows
weeping while I sleep 
Grey mist, shadow kiss
warming the breath I keep
Tears fall, blanketing all
crystal quick crunching to ice
Sad eyes, a million good byes
in the arms of a friend's good advice
Sleep now, remember how
Slip into memory's hand
Blue eyes, silently wise
determined to take their last stand
Raw bones, cold and alone
calling the wind a friend
Weeping tree, come to me
It's a fitting, if not perfect end.


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Backyard Memoirs

Tangerine shells, hollowed of pulp
left out to dry like pumpkin debris
Surinam cherries, peppered with bite
red juicy flesh, but mostly just seed
Sky line of rain trees, cloud chomping blue
to eat up my dreams and float me to sea
But, mostly there's you, laughing with eyes
that right now resemble the woman in me
I'm not a fool, to live in these dreams
balmy and breathing the salt in the air
I've given up all of my conjuring thoughts
smashing up memories 'till you appeared
Tangerine shells, skin of my skin
now part of the soil at a home that's not ours
Leveled of trees, blown to the ground
Lifetime of growth stripped to earth in but hours
Still, mostly there's you, laughing with eyes
listening strong as I storied my dreams
I'm not a fool, with wisdom defunct
but there's no leveling me by my memory's decree.


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Mother's Silent Words

Weep not, dear sweet child, 
Your mother lives in the sky
Remember she loves you
And will be keeping an eye

She is smiling so pretty
As she watches you grow
She is ever so proud
She wants you to know

She wants you to be happy
Not shed any tears
She wants you to be strong
To control all your fears

She holds in her hands
A trinket of her love
She’ll bestow on you, child
When you meet her above

Now, she wants you to know
It’s important to go on
Keep her in your heart, loving
And forever be strong


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The Truth About Kids

Oh, my sons they are a handful
 and my daughters, they are a prize.
Despite it all, I love them dearly
with open arms and open eyes.
For, if you turn your back upon them,
they, in turn, will look to do
anything that they could think of
just to really infuriate you
Don't get me wrong, I do adore them.
They are my life. They make me whole.
But just beware, if you're around them,
they're very apt to lose control.
And, if by chance you are to meet them,
be very wary. Be on your guard.
For loving them, is oh so easy,
but, controlling them is oh so hard!


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From Mother to Child

Truer words have never been spoken
As in the story I have to tell.
Of a woman’s nine month journey
And her emotional trip through hell.

Now this woman was in shock, of course
When she found out she was with child.
This state of shock, to say the least,
Was anything but mild.

For this woman, herself, was a child
At the age of only eighteen.
With termination out of her head
What she must do was eventually seen.

She knew she couldn’t support a baby
Out there on her own.
Even though her family promised
That she would never be alone.

And so the woman’s search began
Then she came to her final option.
Knowing it was for the best,
She decided on adoption.

She knew it would be difficult
To be so far apart.
Away from something that she loved
And would always miss in her heart.


With emotions running mad
She somehow found a friend.
At Mother Goose Adoptions
Her troubles would soon end.

For it was there that she met Dawn
The woman sent to her aid.
When Dawn told her how things worked
Her troubles began to fade.

Dawn reassured the woman
That the couple would be the best.
Because it was the woman’s job
To choose a couple better than the rest.

So she began to look through profiles
Then she stumbled across a pair.
From down within the Southern states
Who were full of love and care.

The woman knew they were the ones
Within the blink of an eye.
Yet for some odd reason 
She still wanted to cry.

For she knew deep down inside
This was something she’d never forget.
Because the thought still picked at her
If this was something she might regret.

Though she had her reasons
Some more obvious than a few
She knew this was something that must happen
For the benefit of you.

Your happiness and well-being
Are all that this was for.
Though it was for the better
The woman’s heart, this tore.

I pray that you are smart enough
To see what you must see.
For if you haven’t guessed by now
The woman is none other than me.

I wish I could express in words
Just what I’d like to say.
I wanted you to know the truth
And this was the best way.

Remember that I do love you
And that I’ll always care.
And if you ever need something
I’ll drop everything just to be there.

This story is not over
Though this poem will now end.
For as you sit here reading this
All my love I do send.





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My Visitor

She sits at home just waiting
Sitting, standing, not knowing what to do
At 89 she’s still a part
Of my life with a love so true
From the airport last night, I picked her up
I saw her, we both smiled
My mother, when she’s in my sights
I again become a child
But, here at work I think of her
Wondering what it is she’s doing
As her hearing’s bad and eyes, well
They’re no longer there for viewing
I know she feels so lonely
I can only imagine how she feels
Since my dad had passed away
She aged and lost some zeal
She has no interest to go out
Nor interest to make friends
At 89 who’s to question her
I pray her loneliness ends

So, mother, while you’re waiting there
For tonight when we come home
I hope that you can pass the time
And not feel so alone
The dog is there to greet you too
She’ll stay there, always at your side
Maybe take a nap, turn on the tube
We’ll be there in no time


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I'll Tell You Now

When you came upon the world
Naked, cold and crying
We told you of the possibilities
So long as you kept trying

As you went through all your days
You never once had wavered
You’ve shown me the true way of life
Just how good ones can be savored

For now I know my true destiny
My place, now, is defined
I’m a father more than anything
For each day, you remind

I see within you, all the goodness
How you always try your best
You always consider other people
For that you shall be blessed

Yet, know this now, before I die
You gave this man his worth
My pride in you was multiplied
Each day upon this earth

Know this now and forever always
Here on earth and from above
I always keep my eyes on you
With smiles and with love


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Talk to Them

Come here you, yeah you.
Where do you think you’re going?
What’s wrong, can I help?
How long has this been going on?

Children, they are the future
So very cliché but true
But, we must step in at times.
That, we must do.

Ask the questions above
To start your dialogue of hope
Let them know you are there for them
They will soon be able to cope.

The road may not be easy
It is surely winding and long
But with people there to love and help
How can any help be wrong?

Communication, yes that is the key
To open the door to the hearts
Let them know, continue your best,
Tear their walls apart!

Barge in, take by the hand
Then calm with your soothing voice
Let them know, no matter what
It will always remain their choice.

They need to know you will be there
And not rule or take control
But be stable, strong and true
And ready to console.


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Ludichka

I love you when you're lucid
(or when your mind is going)
and even when the whiskers
of your confidence are blowing
I love it when your tannins 
filled with acid burn my mouth
and even when you stop short
asking what I'm all about.
I love it when your voice
all crackling, sunlit, fills the room
I love you even though I'm mourning
and you left too soon...