(I apologize for the
format the website
is having problems,
hopefully it will be
Poised, she waits by
pajamas by the door.
Still as a statue,
Waiting for Mama is
this toddlers trial.
fog I shake from my
Waking to silence
instead of her
Angelic voice asks
for chocolate milk.
Such a treat in the
morning, smooth like
Attentive, she holds
the glass as I pour.
Half-way full, she
politely asks for
Diligent steps to
the kitchen table,
Holding on as best
as she was able.
abrupt, no warning.
Milk on the
For Contest: Three
Young and pretty, living a normal life
Suddenly her world would never be the same
Her lovely boy born with special needs
Her daily life now the toughest of games
She carries on with her head held high
Having a career, still being his mother
Constantly dealing with medical issues
Yet she would not change him for another
Nurses and doctors fill her daily life
Fighting for the services that he needs
Never one complaint does she voice
Knowing not where his path will lead
A special soul; accepting the hand dealt
My admiration for this woman so deeply felt…..
I am privileged to be one of his nurses...I have never seen a stronger
more dedicated mother..
A child's beauty contest I watched in such awe;
young girl in a wheelchair to her father, his all.
Escorting her on stage with such grace and pride;
each so blessed to be at the others' side.
A fragile princess in a purple pageant dress;
twirling her first in her chair then lifting her to his chest.
Their dance so inspiring; such an enchanting sight;
so gently he lifted her high up to the sky.
Sparkling, bright eyes and the most beautiful smile;
none deserving of a crown more than this precious child.
An imperfect body, viewed as a gift from above;
her beauty matched only by a father's boundless love.
Beauty in my eyes is not found in perfection;
but in acceptance, uniqueness, love and dedication.
June 29, 2014
Contest: Encore-anonymous positive new sonnet
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Why does a child have to go to school?
Why do we have to spend so much time working?
This seems simply cruel.
Isn't it just irking?
Some people say school is important for learning
Couldn't a child learn on their own?
It would cause much less yearning,
After all, we can learn from our phones.
I can somewhat see a parents point in sending their child to school.
But why would you choose what we wear?
It just allows us to look like fools,
We may as well come to school bear.
As you can see school is not fair,
So please don’t force us to go if you care.
I lived my best in season of the sun,
those yellow, mellow days when cares are flung
to June’s warm breeze, and childhood is begun,
a field to wander in, and all is young!
I lived my zenith in the summer heat.
Ah, zephyr of sublime and untried heights!
Blue sky, July, and taste of kisses sweet
still haunt my mind in cool midsummer nights.
In August came dry winds, and I was torn
from my adobe of early gleeful days.
My children both at summer’s end were born,
and now a grandchild in new sunlight plays.
When dusk, unhurried, comes, I live my best.
In Virgo’s sun may I be laid to rest.
For Brian Strand's ANY 2012 POEM any theme/
any form max of 18 lines Poetry Contest
and now for PD's Any Form Under 15 Lines Poetry Contest
Beneath the weeping willow
A gentle figure swings
Her dress of white a-billow
While soft and sweet she sings
She sang within this bower
What song I cannot tell
Her hair bedecked with flowers
Blue Canterbury bells
And on into the gloaming
Is heard this pleasant sound
When stars begin their roaming
She lets her hair unbound
Then o'er her form the willow weeps
The night is still -- the child sleeps
Growing up as a child I never wanted to sleep alone
In fear of the darkness and most of all the unknown
“Mommy is there monsters” I would commonly ask
Her reply was “only on Halloween, the ones we see in masks”
Still not satisfied with her answer and questioning her some more
Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before
Frustrated and exhausted she finally took me by the hand
Looking under my bed, in my closet and even inside my night-stand
“So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head”
“It’s time to get some sleep me dear, now do as I have said”
Respectfully obeying my mother; my little body trembling with fear
Wishing the hour was morning, praying for “him” not to appear
But as the darkness faded and uncomfortable silence came about
I could hear the monster stirring, getting ready to come out
Hoping the noises I heard were only my brothers messing around
Pulling the covers over my head, hoping and praying not to be found
The footsteps getting closer, the monster is almost to the foot of my bed
I now can hear his heavy breathing, oh God how I wished he was dead
Quietly he lifts my covers back and lays down in the bed beside me
Touching, groping and mauling, trying to cover my eyes so I cannot see
He took away my childhood and with that my trust and self-esteem
A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem
So yes my daughters there are monsters, everywhere we look
Saying as I remember my childhood and everything he took
My whinny,crabby, hungry teen
Your stinky,spoiled and quite mean
You want, you need, you have to have
The latest,newest, modern fad
Your greasy, grimy, hands smear
My wall, light switches, and the mirror
Empty snack bags,with sweet and sour
Create tall,extensive buildings that tower
Your messy,your dirty,in need of a shower
Please make it quick,not loiter an hour
Your smelly,nasty, disgusting shoes
Are slowly poisoning every room
Even with big mouth,rolling eyes and sighs
I would not trade you, I surmise
A child needs a place where he can run
unhindered by some wooden fence or wire.
He needs a spot beneath the summer sun,
a peaceful breeze to soothe him should he tire.
He understands the time to pause in play;
to rest upon a hill and thus renew;
to study clouds that fleck the azure skyway
until they rearrange and pass from view.
A child wants to laugh and taste and see;
to hear a rushing stream; to twirl and leap;
to dip bare feet in mud; hide in a tree
and greet the stars before he has to sleep.
A child sheltered from the sun's caress
grows pale and little knows of happiness.
For Francine Robert's "Barefoot" poetry Contest
When you miss a child,
Of your very own,
That is your flesh and blood,
You begin to wonder,
Where did you go wrong,
In your own life,
Instead of looking,
At the beautiful life,
This you must remember,
So many of the difficult times,
Cause of the times you did share together,
For your children will remember more,
Than you really want to give them credit for,
And they will always remember you,
As their loving parent,
For loving them so much,
More than you will ever know,
And you will never forget them,
Just as you hope,
You will never be forgotten,
From their lives,